Nearly Imperceptible Progress
So this whole piecing my life back together thing is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I mean, I can kind of remember what it felt like a time or two before, but right now I still feel like I've been hit by a truck. On the bright side, if I was able to (mostly) forget the pain associated with previous heartache, logic tells me I'll get over this one too. But it still feels like there's no light at the end of the tunnel.
I hate how dramatic this will sound, but it honestly feels like someone's put a 500-lb weight on my chest. The only way I've been able to sleep for the last few days has been with the help of the aforementioned Tylenol PM. When I wake up, for about 15 seconds I feel refreshed (because 8+ hours of continuous sleep feels so foreign and decadent), but then I remember how sad I am. My arms are restless, like I'd like someone to hold onto, but I keep coming up short. Even if I had someone to hug (besides my niece, who is wonderful), I think they'd still feel empty because nothing felt so right as becoming half of a human pretzel looking for a cozy position whilst cuddling in my over-sized (but too small for two grown-ups) chair and ottoman.
And I'm afraid of everything. Everywhere I walk in my house, I gaze longingly at the last thing he touched. The rumpled hand towel in the guest bathroom nearly started me crying again. I couldn't straighten it. It would erase him. It would diminish him.
There's a movie I wanted to see that opens today. I know he had plans to go with a big group of friends to see it tonight. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to see it, because I associate it so strongly with him.
I threw out the leftover cake I made him, because I couldn't stand the sight of it. There's some leftover cheddar in the fridge from the sandwich I made for him, but I can't eat it. Every time I go outside, I see the hill where we hiked, we talked, we fought, and we made up. At choir practice the other night, I cried in the bathroom with his mother. I didn't go to Texas with my mom and sister this weekend because I couldn't handle driving through his hometown, and I didn't want to deal with buyer's remorse from shopping to numb the pain.
I guess if there's a bright side, it's that I'm really trying to dig out of this. And, because I have no pride left whatsoever, I'm not really ashamed to say that it's taking help. Lots of help. Help from listening and caring friends, help from a wonderful ecclesiastical leader, help from some medication with nasty side-effects, all of it. I guess I just ruined the hook for my Valerie Bertinelli-style autobiography someday. Newsflash! Rachel Sego is a headcase. And maybe a lost cause.
I will say this: getting down so low is really helping me appreciate how truly blessed my life in general is. While I waited at the doctor's office the other day, I listened to a woman tell me about how hard her life is while she takes care of her disabled husband, her 2-year-old daughter, her 5-month-old grandson (her 21-year-old daughter is in jail), her rebellious teenage son, and worrying about her own pregnancy. I can't even imagine what that's like. People I know and love have suffered abuse, infidelity, disease, death, and every imaginable pain. On the whole, I've gotten off pretty easy.
So the fact that my "easy" trial feels insurmountable makes me feel weak, but the fact that I'm working on it makes me tentatively proud. The whole situation has really illuminated those holes that need filling up and the cracks that need fixing. I hope it does for Ray as well. I hope he'll figure out how to be happy with himself and see all the goodness in him that the rest of us do. I pray he'll learn that he's enough and worth loving and worth the effort, even if he doesn't want me to be the one making the effort any more. Every penny I drop in a wishing well now, every star I count, every candle I blow out-- they'll all be wishes that the life-changing friendship we enjoyed and so desperately needed will someday be restored in some fashion or another.
I went home and changed into the shirt I wore on our last date. It's gauzy, but it feels oppressive. Still, I'm trying to sit up straight and get to work. When I get home, I'll go wash the towels in the guest bathroom.
posted by Rachel @ 7:31 AM
3 Comments
3 Comments:
Rachel, I'm happy to have found your blog. I'm sad to have found it at such a rough time, and not before. Your post reminds me so much of myself, as of the last year. I have had similar (emotional) struggles, even if it's not exact. I've felt the sleeplessness without help from a sleep-aid and the reliance on medicine to help me cope. It's horrible to feel that way; it's awful to feel like a basket case. You're not--you have a beautiful mind and a wonderful heart. You love deeply, and that hurts at times, and I'm sure will cause much more pain in the future . . . but, that's the way we're suppose to be. Though, I'm still struggling with my own issues, I'm finding help, as you are, and I think the one thing it has taught me so far is that I am completely incompitent when it comes to solving mine and my families problems ALONE. I need help from bishops, couselors, doctors and most of all my Savior--He's the only one who can truely understand. I've felt the Spirit's comfort, not often enough, after long and hard prayers, scripture study and . . . despair. Too often though, I turn that comfort away because I don't have the desire to work for it, it's hard! I'm so sorry for the pain you're going through. I love you!
Oh Rachel. I'm so sorry for what you are going through.
Unfortunately it seems every person's life there is serious, heart wrenching pain, whether that pain is apparent to us or not.
In my experience none of the things you have mentioned have come through for me to help me during my difficult times. But every time I have felt the extreme of distress, nigh unto despair, something has clicked into place to save me. And not before. I think God intends it to be that way.
My heart goes out to you, Rachel. I hope your tender mercy comes soon.
In the mean time you might try distraction. It worked better for me when I used to have your kind of situation than appealing for help, from whatever source. That's me, though. You will have to find your own path.
Sweet Rachel-- I have to say that amidst the heartache you still write so beautifully. Are you writing novels yet? You are beautiful, and I can say that the trials you have to suffer are very comparable to the ones you claim other's have to suffer--yours aren't any less. It is painful to share such a deep connection with someone and to have it disappear leaving behind haunting memories--the handtowels, cake, shirt, and cheese. That's how we as women hold on and even how we find significance in all things...but it also brings such great heartache at times. You're a strong gal. I know the feeling of waking in the morning and finding that another night of sleep has not eased the deep wrenching pain; the tears flow, almost endlessly. I can say that only time has made the mornings brighter, it will for you as well. Much love--Crystal
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