Wednesday, 12 May 2010

i cannot frickin' sleep. AGAIN.

i should say that i did stay up until approximately 2am reading. i knew i shouldn't, but i couldn't put the book down. and i genuinely thought that i had tired myself out this time. that i wouldn't have any trouble.

problem is, the revelation near the end of the book (Remember Me?
 - not at all my usual fare, but I read it in one sitting, in case you were interested) triggered off a thought process in me (entirely unrelated to babyloss, for once). it made me realise that the fact i completely screwed up university and ended up dropping out is not entirely unrelated to something that happened at the very beginning of my university career.

but i kind of knew that already. but this time my brain went a bit further.

the problem wasn't what happened. the problem was not realising that there was a problem.


sometimes i think putting an 18 year old in charge of the rest of your life is a crazy, crazy plan. who on earth is responsible enough to make those kind of decisions?

but what else can we do?

i'm sorry to be so cryptic. but it feels like i've just found the missing link. it feels like i've just made sense of a part of my universe.

it feels like i could finally explain to my parents why i went so badly off the rails.


and this (and now i'm talking about babyloss again) will always affect everything.

at first, i didn't realise that. i thought i would just grieve for a little while (two, maybe three weeks? that sounds about right. i'll be back to work soon enough. everything will be ok. honestly, i'm fine. really. god, i was so naive) and then i would be back to normal.

i nodded sagely when people said that things would never be the same again. that i would never be the same again. but inside i recoiled in horror. this can't destroy my life like that! i've lost a baby. it's not the end of the world. i can go back to being myself in a week or three.

i think the magnitude of my loss is really only starting to sink in now.


i won't be defined by this forever. but my lost baby will always be a part of me. will always be somewhere in my peripheral vision. perpetually just out of sight, but still there.

and that is horrific.

but extremely comforting.

and i'd rather that, than the alternative.

i don't want to forget.


the sophie kinsella book is chick lit.

i don't usually read much chick lit.

but i have read articles about how if men wrote about the issues dealt with in chick lit, they would be hailed as literary genii.

(it wasn't that simple, but it's late and i'm tired, and i can't think of enough of it to google)

and this books deals with memory and sense of self and loyalty and all kinds of lofty themes.

and i think that maybe those people have a point.

there is fluff on the top, but underneath is a solid book that has levels and everything.

and it caused me to have a revelation. that doesn't happen very often.


i miss being able to tag blog posts nice, simple things. like 'cake' or 'weather'. or 'fluffy kittehs'.


Kelly said...

I'm not a huge chick-lit reader either, but I like Kinsella's books. I usually read them in one sitting also. :)

What you described after a loss is exactly how I've been feeling. I'm finally to the point where I feel like I'm ready to get back to work. And your exactly right...knowing that it will always be there, for the rest of my life, is horrific.

I hope you get some sleep, soon.

Catherine W said...

Putting an 18 year old in charge of the rest of your life IS a crazy plan. I totally agree. I blame 18 year old me for any number of mess ups.

Perhaps I should read Sophie Kinsella? My taste in reading matter has totally changed since the birth of the girls and I've been reading quite a lot of chicklit. I think maybe those articles do have a point, there is usually a solid book underneath the fluffiness.

loria said...

I have so much to read and catch up on but my sweet girl, I was cleaning this evening and I found a letter you wrote to me in 2001. You spoke of travelling to Newcastle and friends and your address was the flat in York where we stayed and I realised I miss you more than you know.

I have so much to comment on, but life is so damn crazy and I'm always thinking of you. These things, they will become a part of you. There will be a time when they will no longer be the major thing that defines you, but like Tori writing Choirgirl, you will find a way through. It's still so early, my dear. As far as I know and experiences with others like yours, you're working through this the best you can and I am so proud of you for recognising you might need more than just your pure perserverence. I went into pretty intense therapy after A left and I still feel a little scarred.

I have so much to talk with you about. One day we will have those days. Because it won't be another eight years until I get back there.

I'm so sorry this is a mess but it's late, I'm tired and so many other useless excuses. I do so adore you.