When I am sad, my first reflex is too write. I learned to do this after my son died. I remember doing it because I wanted to document those emotions. I wanted to remind myself what those early days felt like – so that I would not forget. I was afraid that if I didn’t remember those early day emotions I would forget my son. It is different now, somehow. I remember him but not really with the pain that was associated with that day.
Then I remember. Last week I was triggered during my counselling training. I went back to that day in the hospital where they told me my son died. The memories of that dreadful day flooded back, and it is like I am reliving those memories again. Those early day memories of when my precious son died – without me even knowing. What a terrible mother I was for not knowing! I remember I was just existing, breathing for the sake of breathing – though I saw no sense in life.
Eventually after the birth, two days after I went home, I started hunting for a job. A job! I didn’t give myself time to grief. Shame on Hannah! I think back to those days and I question why I didn’t allow myself to grieve? Why did I immerse myself into the mad rush of trying to find a job? Was I pressured to do so? Was I trying to cling onto life the only way I knew how? What was I doing? What on earth was I doing? I woke up every day with nightmares in those early days – drenched in sweat. Screaming. Crying. I remember crying myself to sleep every night. I remember those heart wrenching tears that would just come out. Not a sound anyone should really hear. It was dreadful. I remember crying every day at the same time at lunch time – when he was born. Not sure why. But sleep was never the same again after Sebastian died. Sleep became a troubled form. Rather than my friend, it feels like it became my enemy. It haunts me with memories of a forgotten past.
I am sad today. I can’t really lay my fingers on why. Perhaps it’s because I miss Sebastian. Elouise. Micheline. Perhaps it’s for some other reason. But I cannot put my finger on it. Perhaps it’s a sadness not forgotten. Who knows what it is? Who knows what is plaguing my mind? Who knows what the nightmares are trying to tell me? Who knows what is haunting me at night? I do not know. Just that the tears are on the surface. I feel like big gulps of tears will come out. Those from those heart-wrenching days of when my son died. That they will come flooding out any time soon. But for now they are suppressed for some reason. Better that way.
And in the midst of my trials I know God is here for me. Yet there seems to be a barrier between God and I. Like I can’t trust myself to go to him. There is too much pain. Too much sadness in my life. The tears are very painful wounds in my life. They should be released. They should be embraced. But they are suppressed. Something is stopping me from crying out. Maybe it is a shame. Maybe I feel like I don’t deserve to be loved. To be cared for. Maybe I am embarrassed by my sadness. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I don’t know why I haven’t been able to sleep for what seems like weeks.
I am sad today. I am very sad today. I have been sad for over a week now. And I want to withdraw. I don’t want to communicate – or with almost no-one. I am a sad person today. That is all for now.