Wednesday, June 17, 2009 a frustrating mess

If Amanda were here, she would tell you that I'm generally an upbeat guy, but that every once in a while, I get lost in a gloomy funk. What makes my funks dangerous is that they spiral inward on themselves, rather like a maelstrom. When I get sucked in, I realize it, which makes me introspective, which makes me gloomier. Rinse, repeat. I can go days without speaking, only to emerge fresh, clean and happy a week or so later.

I've found that my periods of soul-crushing depression tend to follow closely behind my moments of greatest exultation. And, in the course of the subsequential introspection, I have discerned the reason (it's pretty obvious): the person with whom I'd most like to share my greatest triumphs is gone.

It started yesterday, but today everything hurts. I found myself standing in the corner of my office right after lunch. I felt simultaneously 3' tall and 10' tall, detached from reality, and wondering what to do, if anything. Coffee helped, but the music I chose to listen to on the way to get coffee only further amplified the pain, as it was music that we enjoyed together in the waning days of Amanda's good health.

There are a few memories from my 33 years that I try very hard not to allow into my conscious thoughts. They will put me into a 7 - 10 day cycle of depression that leaves me a hollow shell. But Amanda's illness and death do not constitute a simple single memory that I can put on a shelf in a carefully sealed mental box. They represent only the terminus of a 15 year bright-spot of my life.

So what to do? I certainly can't go home like this. But I can't not go home, either. I can put on a brave face for Alastair, but he's pretty clever and sees right through me. So maybe we'll cuddle up tonight and watch a movie.


Nicole said...

I hope you and your son were able to find some sort of comfort in each other.

Kim said...

Hang in there buddy. I wish I had something clever or witty to say, but I'm at a loss. You're a tough guy and will make it through this, but I can only imagine just how hard it is at times.

I'm here if you ever need to vent. Hugs!!!

Lainey said...


My mom died when I was 6. My dad did an *amazing* job of raising me (mostly by himself) and this is in no way a criticism of him, but if he could have done one thing differently that would have helped me, it would have been to show his emotions around me. Because my dad always tried to put on a brave face & didn't want to upset me by seeing him sad, I grew up not talking about my mom because I didn't want to cry. I was afraid he would think less of me for crying because I didn't see him showing a lot of emotion.

All this to say that when you're missing Amanda and feeling low, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Little A saw it sometimes and could share your sadness with you.

ahamos said...

Lainey, I'm sorry for your loss, and that point isn't lost on me. I bring her up more than he does. It feels almost cruel to do so, but I agree that it's important for him to know that I do feel her loss.

ev said...

How are you today? You could've called. Granted, I was four hours away and couldn't actually do anything, but maybe helped a tiny bit.
I agree with Lainey (may have spelled that wrong, but I'm on my phone and to go look means starting my comment over). And I'm glad you bring up Manda with Alastair.
He will show his sadness over and over in various ways - including hitting, biting, and other "bad" behaviors. Don't forget that while he needs to express his grief, he also needs to remember that some expressions aren't okay. You (Adrian) can't go around biting others when you're sad.
You know how to get us if you need us.
*Just a thought...If one of these Saturdays we get a pretty good crowd, maybe we could all talk about Amanda to Alastair. We'll do it every so often so she stays alive for him.
Just a thought.
Sorry you had a bad day. I'm still praying for you.