"Am I being a disingenuous mommy?" (or only a little despairish?)

[thanate]

So, um, apparently post-partum ovaries can get quite cranky about starting up again. That's another one for the "weird stuff they don't tell you" files... but aside from the random abdominal pain not being anything life-threatening (not that I thought it was, but grauwulf made me call the doctor after three days of intermittent abdominal pains) that might explain why I've been feeling particularly despairish this week.

I mean, there have been perfectly good reasons to feel despairish, too-- my one remaining grandparent ended up with emergency eye surgery over the weekend due to some kind of nasty glaucoma/migraine combination and then my mother had the joys of food poisoning to end our visit on Sunday. And I have now got a professional opinion that the oak tree is not even worth trying to save; this is relatively understandable given that the *only* place it doesn't look thoroughly dead from is the bedroom windows. And it has some kind of boring beetles. The current thought is to do what they call a "4-inch trim" and pull down most of the crown so that we can let the rest of it die with dignity without endangering the neighbors. But yeah. That's the third 80+ year-old tree we've lost from this lot since grauwulf got it, plus everything from the lot next door and the big maple across the street.

(There's nice stuff too-- the Megatherium has her half birthday today, and we made it to the silly "Babies in Bloom" library program where she got to spend half an hour listening to silly rhymes and watching other small children with great fascination. She also clearly demonstrated both toy preference and the ability to reach for and acquire her toy of choice this morning, and has thoroughly outgrown the bouncy chair by trying a little too hard to climb out of it. Nothing traumatic happened, but we've given that back to the cat, who is far less likely to fall out of it onto his head. Oh, and watering the trees seems to have worked, as it's actually raining now. And there's a great and glamorous repotting of house plants going on...)

I find that I've progressed to the point where I sort of want to talk about some grief-process stuff, only I still don't want to have the conversation that goes, "...and my father died in May--" / "OMG! I'm so sorry!!" This is the societally programmed thing to do, but it's not a conversational rock I want to throw, besides treading too close to the line of things that pander to the speaker at the expense of the injured party. I want to have the conversation that goes "these are the weird things that grief/depression does to my brain, aren't they peculiar?" / "huh, really? I had this other experience." Instead, I seem to end up saying things like, "I was just getting my head back together after having this baby and then there was some other family stuff, and now my writing-brain has given up for the duration." Or "this year has been about major life changes." All of which is true, but somewhat disingenuous, and not conducive to talking about it.

Comments

[blairmacg.livejournal.com]

I hear you on the wanting-to-maybe-talk-under-the-right-circumstances thing. Most folks don't know how to have those conversations, or even how to let the conversation happen, so we reflexively offer condolences because it's a "safe" response.

In my case, one of my friends finally asked me about a couple details of what had happened. By answering her questions, and giving her permission to ask them (and the asking is something I found many are terrified to do for fear of causing worse pain), I could suddenly be honest and complete and real in talking about the experience. I don't know if that would be helpful for you, but thought I'd share just in case. :)

[thanate.livejournal.com]

It's hard to tell how much this is a social norms problem and how much it's me having a different set of what I appreciate versus what annoys me in stressful situations. It would probably help if I spent more time actually talking to friends instead of being telephone avoidant and knowing very few people locally-- it seems like the sort of thing that would work better talking than typing, at least on the days where my brain is processing fast enough that talking doesn't involve 3-5 minutes of staring at things before I can say things. (Unfortunately this is the state that grauwulf usually gets stuck with, often after we've managed to get irritated at each other over some other random thing.)

[batchix.livejournal.com]

I didn't have anyone to share my grief with after my grandmother died and it took me years to deal with the aftermath.

But if you need and want to talk about it, maybe make a filter and tell people exactly what you just said.

Sometimes feelings are like a broken tooth that you can't stop touching with your tongue. Your tongue gets sore, but it's such a persistent distraction you can't stop touching it.

[thanate.livejournal.com]

So far I've managed to put off most of the trapped little mental circles-- or at least diverted them to worrying about the stupid tree. But then, the tree is on the five-year plan of things to be upset about, whereas I get to be some version of sad about my father for the next thirty or more.

If I work out what it is I want to say, I may post about it, but I'm not quite to the point where I have coherent monolog yet.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Oh, I hate it when you get boring beetles. There are so many beetles, you could at least get an interesting one killing your tree.

Um. Sorry.

Anyway! I am entirely up for talking about grief and how weird it can be in one's brain, if you want to make a filter or do e-mailage or whatever.

[thanate.livejournal.com]

They're so boring they stay in the tree all the time and we never even get to see them.

If I ever figure out exactly what it is I want to say, I may just do something with a cut-tag on it. Part of the problem is that a lot of the conversations I want to have right now involve figuring out how to express amorphous concepts and nebulous questions in ways that actually convey to those who aren't stuck in my head. "I want to know [waves arms around in frustration]" doesn't really produce useful dialog, somehow...

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

When my grandpa died, there was a lot of frustrated arm-waving.

There was also a lot of stuff where I did not really recognize that the main thing was the grief right away. The nightmares were obvious; random bouts of forgetfulness were not, just for example.

[thanate.livejournal.com]

Yes. It's normal for me to get upset about losing a mature tree. It's not normal to go for a walk and spend several minutes standing on the street corner trying to move & not cry because other people still have nice big oak trees.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Yeah, probably not, but I totally sympathize. (Me and my grandpa and our thing for trees.)

The first time I heard Tim Minchin's "White Wine in the Sun," which I love, I burst into tears and said, "He's like me, he doesn't have a grandpa any more either," because he's talking about being with his family for Christmas, and he sings, "I'll be with my dad, my brothers and sisters, my gran and my mum." And for a normal person, that is an ordinary family list, and I could say, "Oh, really? I don't have any sibs, but quite often I spent Christmas with my godfathers, and we always see my auntie." For me in grief, there was a flashing neon sign reading, "Grandpa missing here too."

[dragonvyxn.livejournal.com]

i understand the despair stuff, but didn't have any pain. still breastfeeding and my uterus has just gotten back into gear this month. it's weird but good to know when i'm ovulating, i guess? lili's 1 so i have the great challenges of walking happening. and she keeps engaging the cat in things that end up with her crying but the cat isn't doing any damage, he's just scaring her... it's ridiculous.

with respect to grief, i have had a lot of that, but about 12 years ago when my 11yr old cousin died of brain cancer and my girlfriend died of scleroderma. they were each sick for about 4 years and died 2 and 4 days months apart. at the time, i pretty much just wallowed in it. i sat on my couch in my apartment for a month working on a thesis and barely leaving. i couldn't get my brain to do much other than that, and i didn't have much help getting through it. i hope you had more support than i did, it's kind of nice. it took me a few years to recover and i recall the next time i was fully happy, it was really nice to feel, but dilute...

[thanate.livejournal.com]

Ah yes; we've just hit the point where the cat is *absolutely fascinating* with grabby hands outstretched. He's a very patient cat, but this is bound to get interesting pretty soon.

I think I remember a little bit about that from Violivia-- I'd probably be pretty useless at this point if it weren't for this baby (who is seriously the most cheerful creature I know) so there's this bizarre dichotomy going on in my brain between grief processing and happy baby. It's kind of exhausting, but on the whole far better than not wanting to get up off the carpet or whatever.

[dancinglights.livejournal.com]

I spent most of last year in armwaving despair unwilling and unable to repeatedly start over with everyone I knew explaining my weird family dynamics and why yes a not-even-really-grandparent was a Big Deal and how platitudes about their assumed kindness from those who didn't know better only made things worse. Continually typing at, and talking to in person, the same very small filtered group of folks so I didn't have to repeat myself helped a lot, in the beginning. But mostly I came away with the feeling that 'normal' family situations aren't any easier at all, even with society's scripts at hand. So much sympathy.

If that sort of listening from an internet-stranger helps for you, I'm here to read, or even finally get tea sometime. I've also spent most of the last year feeling terribly guilty for bailing on so many social things, especially chances to see you, but, well, this. Even more than the household/relationship/work stuff, I fell into this. And it's finally, mostly, got better.

[thanate.livejournal.com]

I do benefit (more or less) from having conventional surface-narrative; it's just the societal scripts that are difficult. One of the things that my father was very proud of in his kids was that we turned out unashamedly individualistic, but there are times when that makes life more difficult.

Tea sometime would be lovely; I think we're even in a baby mode where an hour or so of restaurant and grown-up talking ought to be manageable.