Waiting for the other shoe to drop

I have spent my life waiting for the other shoe to drop.  As soon as I get comfortable or start trusting my own happiness, something happens.  A fight starts, someone gets hurt, someone dies, an unexpected bill shows up, a car breaks down, you name it.  I guess this is all part of life though.  It happens to everyone.  For some reason though, I have a hard time rolling with the punches.  Tonight was one of those nights.

I've been in this state of borderline anxiety for a while now.  I felt like this 10 years ago when I graduated college too.  I was so busy and doing so much that when I finally graduated, I had a hard time going out in public places, going to restaurants or just being anywhere that there was noise.  I was like this for almost 3 months.  I've been feeling this way for a while, but have noticed with spring blossoming new life, I have been able to let the light in.  I have fought this feeling and have continued to do things, but it is exhausting.

Tonight was the exception.  I've been thinking about writing on this topic for a few days, but kinda thought "maybe I'm just overreacting".  Then I was dumb enough to check a large insurance claim that has taken almost 3 months to process.  They denied the claim.  I just about had a panic attack.  I literally started crying because the thought of having to call the insurance company and fight them on this is paralyzing me right now.  I feel so overwhelmed and I hate having to do this.  I could have Shane do it, but I think it would stress him out more than me.  He is too passive when it comes to these things and will wait.  I take charge and start asking for supervisors.  I once had a landlord tell me he was going to give me my security deposit back after charging me for a door that was falling apart the day I moved in because he didn't want to deal with me anymore.  If I know it's wrong, I'll fight it to the end.

As I was aimlessly walking through Target tonight, I called my sister in law and was talking to her about it.  It hit me.  This is where my dad would bring me balance.  If I called him freaking out about stuff like this, he would say "Calm down.  You can't do anything about it tonight.  Get some sleep.  Deal with it tomorrow.  It'll all work itself out. It's not worth getting upset about".  Of course, I would be completely distraught by this and would start with the "what if's" but he always had that way of talking me off the edge...and sometimes pushing me over it.  Thankfully, she was there to listen and to bring me that balance.  

I keep trying to trust myself and my feelings, but it's been hard.  Growing up always being told I'm wrong and that my feelings aren't valid has really made me wonder if there is true happiness.  Does anyone have this?  All couples fight.  All families are dysfunctional.  All companies have those people that you wonder "how in the heck do they still have a job?!".  Every house has an imperfection.  Nobody has the perfect body.  No car will go undented for long.  Where are these people that we are always trying to compare ourselves to?!  From the outside, many people look perfect, act perfect, talk perfect, etc, but then you get to know them and realize they aren't.  They have insecurities, flaws, annoyances, cellulite, obnoxious families, bills piling up, fights, broken doors, stained carpets and dusty houses (right?  I'm not dreaming this right?).  

This is almost getting into a whole different subject in itself, but bottom line is...maybe my life isn't so bad.  Maybe a lifetime of having to keep my guard up and keeping my arsenal loaded has actually weighed me down.  It's kinda like those moms that bring one of everything with them everywhere and you wonder how soon before they throw their back out and start realizing 7 different kinds of sunscreen may not be necessary for a ride to the store.  It's easy to focus other people onto the positive, so why can't I do it for myself?  

The past 8 months have made it close to impossible to see the brighter side, but I am eternally grateful for a husband who is trying, a roof over my head, an organization I love working for, a car to get me there, 3 furry beasts to greet me when I get home (4 if you include Shane), 2 nieces and soon to be 2 nephews to keep me laughing, the family that is supportive to me, I'm even grateful for the family that isn't because it helps me recognize the ones that are, a 92 year old grandmother whom I love, a stepmom who cries with me and understands the pain that hits me in the core, the friends that have held me up when I can't seem to muster the strength to do it myself and the 3 people who actually read this blog to the end. God has put the challenges in my life to make me stronger and to get me to appreciate the good things.  I am truly blessed.

New Life

I've been wanting to write something for a while now.  I've been holding a lot of my thoughts in or talking to them to certain people, but not others and thought this would be a good way to find healing, comfort and get my thoughts out there.  I hope no one is hurt or offended by my comments on here.  I'm just expressing my inner thoughts.

This spring has hit me like a freight train.  I look back at the last 8-9 months of my life and I think "how is it almost June already?!"  Where did the time go?  My life has been in a tailspin for a while now and it has consumed me.  I literally feel like I've lost months of my life.

Obviously, the biggest life changing event over the last 6 months has been my dad dying.  It has devastated me.  But even before he died, things at home were a challenge.  I won't go into details, but my marriage was hanging on by a very thin thread and it was getting unbearable.  I tried doing the "right" thing and I tried being the "good" person and doing all the things I thought I should have been doing.  The problem was, it wasn't working and it was all wrong.  The things I was dealing with aside from my dad dying were things that would have stressed any person, any marriage, anyone's sanity.  So why did my dad have to die in the middle of all of that?  Why did God let it all happen?  Those are the questions that plague me daily.

The thing that eats me up inside is that I was mad at my dad at the time he died.  I felt like he wasn't very supportive with the things that were going on at home.  I know it wasn't his strong suit to step in and be emotionally supportive, but it was what I needed.  And because he couldn't give me what I needed, I got mad at him.  The last time I talked to him, I hung up on him and I never called him back when he called the week before he died because things were falling apart at home and there were things I had to deal with immediately.  I figured I would talk to him on my birthday.  He never got the chance to wish me a happy birthday.

My new normal started the afternoon of December 14th.  I thought losing my grandpa on my birthday 2 years before had a huge emotional impact on my life, but it was nothing compared to what happened this year on my birthday.  At 3:20pm, my brother's girlfriend called to tell me my dad was in the emergency room and was being intubated.  I was so confused.  I had no idea what she was talking about and needed to let it all sink in.  I called Shane to meet me at home and told him we needed to get up north.  That's when he told me there was a surprise party planned for me that night.  It didn't matter.  Nothing mattered at this point except my dad.

As I was driving home, my brother's girlfriend called to say my dad had coded and they didn't have a pulse.  I was on the freeway, sobbing, literally freaking out.  She called back 20 minutes later to say they got his pulse back but we needed to get up there ASAP.  We packed quickly, gave our sister in law the keys and instructions for the pets and headed up north.  It was 2 hours of somberness.  I had no idea if he was going to be ok, or how serious this was or what.  I thought we may need to stay up there for a few days, but would be home and everything would be fine.

When we got to the hospital at 6:45pm, my brother and his girlfriend were waiting outside for us.  Anyone who knows me, knows my brother and I do not have a very good relationship.  We've barely spoken for years, but on this cold bitter winter night, all he could do was be my big brother.  We got out of the car and he started talking and I couldn't comprehend it all.  I just needed him to tell me what was going on.  He was irritated with me, but said "Dana, he's not going to make it through the night".  My heart sank and a piece of me died in that moment.  I literally thought I was going to pee my pants and throw up.  My knees buckled and I couldn't find the strength to stand.  Shane helped me up and hugged me and then my brother grabbed me and held me as tight as he could.  He understood the pain of the words he had to tell me.  He hated that he had to say them, but he understood because he heard them hours before.  He was trying to be strong for me because he knew I wouldn't be able to.  They took me in and he told me the details of what had happened.

Cancer.  Plain and simple.  And my dad never knew.

We went upstairs to the ICU to see him.  He was never conscious after they intubated him and he coded.  I sobbed for hours.  I couldn't breathe.  I didn't know if he could hear me when I said how sorry I was and how much I loved him.  He was my daddy.  And I was losing him way too soon, and on my birthday, 2 years after his dad died on my birthday.  At 9:30pm, he went to join Grandpa with God.

The weeks that followed were a blur.  I was in shock.  I couldn't believe this had happened again.  The guilt was burying me alive.  All I could do was cry.  Cry for all the things I should have done.  Cry for the things that I shouldn't have done.  Cry.  Cry.  Cry.  I didn't understand.  In my dad's final moments I had to comfort my grandma and tell her that God wasn't punishing her by taking one of her children before her.  I had to remind this woman of great faith that our god is not a punishing god.  All the while, I am feeling like I'm being punished for the arguments we had before he died.  I'm feeling like my punishment was him dying on my birthday.

Then my grief was put on hold.  The problems in my marriage were taking a front seat to my grief and I wasn't able to focus on processing through my grief.  The 2 months that followed, I had to step up and be strong.  I had to take care of things and was running on auto pilot for 2 1/2 months.  The last 2 1/2 months were the start of being able to heal.  Even though there were still struggles in my marriage, I could start focusing on healing.

I know they say everyone's grief is unique, but to me, it was very personal.  I had the added grief of dealing with my birthday and the guilt that plagued me.  I still struggle with both of these things today.  My grief is different from that of my family.  I'm 100 miles away.  I've always been 100 miles away.  My grieving process is more about emotions than it is about getting things in order or organizing belongings.  Sometimes I think if I could have helped get things in order or organize belongings, I would have felt like I was helping.  I was there when he died, but his absence wasn't tangible to me when I returned home.  I was grieving from afar and sometimes, I felt left out.  I felt like an outcast.  I felt like I wasn't supposed to be this upset and I shouldn't have been this devastated because he wasn't a daily part of my life.  Who was I to be upset when I only saw him a few times a year?  It wasn't my right to be so devastated.  (for the record, it wasn't anything anyone said or did that made me feel this way.  It was just the different situation I faced than the rest of the family)

At the same time, I felt paralyzed by my guilt.  I could sit in a room with people I knew and feel like I was screaming and no one could hear me.  I felt like "here I am and nobody cares".  The funeral was over.  Life goes on.  What's her problem?  I still feel this way.  I can't forget what happened.  It profoundly changed me.  I am healing, but it is a slow process.  Very slow.  And when I feel like people expect me to be back to normal, I have to remember that the normal I knew before isn't the normal I know now.  I have a new normal.

For right now, My New Normal is a daily struggle to get out of bed every morning.  It's resisting the urge to cry at my desk or all day long for that matter.  It's praying that God reveals His plan for me in all of this.  It's trying to enjoy the little things without feeling overwhelmed.  It's crying at reminders of Father's Day.  It's realizing I'm 35 years old and my life isn't where I thought it was or where I wanted it to be and I don't know if it ever will.  It's knowing each day, my husband and I need to TRY to make our marriage work.  It's turning to God in all this darkness and finding that glimmer of hope to keep me going one. more. day.

Last Thursday was the last day of my GriefShare group (I highly recommend it.  www.griefshare.org). The topic was on Heaven.  The vision that gets me through each day is knowing that someday, my dad and I will be together again, but there will be no more pain.  There will be no more hurt.  There won't be any fighting or guilt.  I will finally feel the love he had for me, but was never able to express.  He will wrap his arms around me and tell me it's all ok and that we are with God now where none of that other stuff matters.  And then he will take me to the table where we will take on Gramps in a wicked game of cribbage.