(no subject)

[goodnightmoon]

I spend most of my days still in a state of shocked disbelief that my life is real. This life where I'll never see, or touch, or listen to my daughter laugh again. It's so horrific that it simply can't be real. Some days I am nearly normal. I had a few good days this week; I found a job that I am happy to be starting, I did some spreadsheet work freelance to help get us out of the financial hole. And then today I took a nap and dreamed of her and woke up crying in my sleep, the pain unbearable, so deep that it feels like the only way I can survive it is to take a Xanax and go to sleep and hope I feel better when I wake up. Over and over since she died I have dreamed that both my mother and grandmother are alive again, but never Cassie. Cassie is always still gone in my dreams.

I started going back to church again, and I think that triggers some of it. She should be there, in the senior youth. I look at that group of children, and there's one missing. I go to parties and her friends are there, and there's always one little girl missing. A few weeks ago I was in the car with a friend, the mother of the sibling group that were some of Cassie's closest friends, and the girls were in the back of the car singing along with the radio, and the silence of her not there singing was a deafening roar until I wanted to get out of the car and walk home. It feels like nothing will ever be whole without her again. Her absence has reconfigured me so that I don't fit anywhere. I feel on the outside of everything, like there's a veil between me and the rest of the world. And I'm okay with that. I don't want to see it all clearly, don't want to touch it.

I don't really care much about this life I'm living now. I do it because I still have another child who needs me, and I lack the courage for suicide. So I live just hoping for the days to go by faster. But the moments where I feel I can't bear the idea of decades without my daughter slow to a crawl, surviving them one heartbeat at a time, stretching time out until it feels like I'll have to live through an infinity of this. 

Comments

[kita0610.livejournal.com]

There isn't anything I can possibly say to ease your pain, although I wish there was.

Please don't AT ALL feel obligated to reply, but have you thought about grief counseling? It can't fix what is missing in your life, but it can maybe provide you with some much needed support- or even introduce you to other people who are living with the same horror. Sometimes, it's just nice not to feel alone.

You are loved.

[humming-along.livejournal.com]

It's something I am planning to look into soon, but I have to wait until I know what my schedule at my new job is going to be before I can schedule anything.

[deceptivemirror.livejournal.com]

You don't know me, and I don't know you, but your story is reminding me a lot of the time when I lost my mother to cancer. It was four years ago this past January, and I can't forget. Much of what you're feeling right now is exactly what I was feeling then, and still feel today. The roller coaster of emotions is real. I didn't feel a single damn thing except crushing grief for about the first six months. It became difficult to remember details, and much like you, she didn't appear in my dreams. Time slowed to mud.

I cannot express enough how valuable therapy was for me at that time. It helped me get my mother back. It helped me reconnect with my friends and family, who were all scared and concerned for me too. It isn't going to make the grief less, but it will help you live more, which is the important part.

I hope you're able to use her memory to spur yourself forward. Your other child loves and needs you very much as well. I'll keep you in my thoughts.

[humming-along.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much for the support, I really appreciate it.

[siberian-skys.livejournal.com]

I've been struggling with what to say to you. I'm not sure there is anything that I can say that would lend you any comfort. Just please know that you are loved.

[rachel-wilder.livejournal.com]

As much as it hurts to read this and know the pain you're experiencing, I'm also really glad you're sharing it and putting it in a place where those of us who know you and care about you can have a sense of what's going on.

I have not had to face a loss like this one, but I remember how shocked I was for months when I would just be washed over with grief after my grandma's death.

Cassie is still all around us, but not in the same ways and that is just hard and unfair. I'm so proud of you for dealing with this as well as you can and pray for the days to come where peace comes more easily. Take care of yourself, friend.