I'm Out of My Mind (for a change)

Every so often, when I can push my grief aside, I take a good, long look around me and realize that I am not the only person in this lifetime to have experienced or to be experiencing grief.

My friend, Danna, from Los Angeles, is having difficulty dealing with her husband being on the front lines in Iraq. She wrote the following:

Hi Robin,

It's so lovely to hear from you! I'm sorry too for not writing. I've been thinking about you a lot as well, about how you are managing these days. I often feel like I am living an illusionary life--I exist without living.

Russ is doing fine. His unit has experienced many casualties over the past few weeks and it's been hitting him pretty hard. They lost a couple of men yesterday and two the day before. It's hard not to think about the families of these fallen men and worry about the mental health of those who had to witness the horrors.

Russ should be home end of January or early February. I have a lot of work to do on my portfolio and have some issues with motivation and energy. I have no motivation. How does one fix this?

I know you have lots of friends which is so great. That's the one thing I am sorely lacking. The few friends I do have live nowhere near me. Plus I don't make them very easily. So I find myself home on weekends and I feel like a loser. Yey me. Only three more months of this though.

I am so glad you wrote. Please let me know how you are doing and
what is going on with you. I still need to make a journey out there to the east coast. We are supposed to be in Rhode Island next July for a wedding but hopefully before then.

Love and friendship,
Danna

I replied to her...

I’m not doing too bad these days. I mean, as grief goes, I’m doing pretty well. I have entered a new phase, though, where I am ecstatic with my life, having lots of fun, singing with the orchestra and putting together a band of my own. I’m still doing theater, working out and laughing a whole lot. But when I get home at night, I still fall completely to pieces. I miss him more than I ever thought a person could miss someone. I can’t believe I “used to” be married. That’s a tough one. It was so short-lived. I have a wonderful social worker whom I adore. He’s very empathetic and kindhearted.

I do look forward to the remainder of my life. I know I have learned a ton from this experience and grown immensely from it.

I love deeper. I feel deeper. I enjoy everything on a much, much deeper level these days. I guess that’s the good that came out of the bad. The bad is, of course, that I feel my loss on a much deeper level, as well. I’ll take it, though. If the alternative is living on my couch and crying day in and day out for the rest of my life, then the choice is not a hard one to make.

I still can’t seem to lose the feeling of wounded bird. It’s like an ache, so deep inside my soul that I can’t imagine it ever releasing me. It’s okay, though. Things are getting better. They really are.

I feel for Russ, for all that he is witnessing these days. I can’t imagine what it’s like to hear a bang then have someone be dead right next to you. Horrifying. I feel for you, missing him, worrying yourself sick about him, also feeling like “Did I get married?”. I know it’s tough, Danna, and I know that nothing helps.

Motivation is tough when depression rears its ugly head. I am on the verge of quitting taking my Paxil. Don’t ever take Paxil. I never would have believed that my BODY could get addicted to something. It is so tough to get off of it. The withdrawals have made it very tough. I’m almost off, though. I’m also very sparingly taking Lorezapam. I only take that when I have an episode so strong that I can’t function, like sometimes at night, I can’t pull myself together after a crying fit. Lorezapam is a wonder for that sort of thing. It’s nice to have around and I keep it in check because I know it’s a highly addictive drug.

Have you thought about an antidepressant?

Hang in there, Danna. God doesn’t give us anything we can’t handle.

I love you.

Love, Robin

I feel a little ashamed for being so self-absorbed in my grief. Although I am still consumed, I have been thrown into a new place by this exchange of e-mails.

There are other people in this world who are hurting. I am not the only one. I wish I could maintain this realization, but I'm afraid that I am still very much under the control of my sadness, particularly in the area of pseudo-post-traumatic-stress (PPTS). Hey, look at that. I coyned my own disorder. :)

Still, I have learned something today. I can help others. I can be there for others. I don't have to remain trapped in the black abyss all of the damn time.

Today, my heart is with Danna. Her pain is her pain, but it still feels very familiar to me. She has no idea whether her husband will live, die, or how he will have changed upon his return. That's all very scary stuff.

I hope my e-mail helps her. I wish I could give her a hug, hold her for a while and in some way, calm her.

Shneed