I guess this is what they call writer's block. Only I don't fancy myself a writer and the only things I've ever thought I was any good at writing about are death and desperation. Well, writing about those things indefinitely has turned out to be unsustainable for me. I think partly because of self-consciousness and partly because I don't know how many times I can write about the same thing.
I miss George. I wonder what he would have been like. It is lonely. It never goes away. Sometimes I miss the person who I was before he died.
There. You just read the summary of this entire blog in five sentences. How is that for some Cliff's Notes?
But I keep coming back here because since I left Los Angeles and the handful of people there who I was readily able to talk to about those five sentences I'm kind of on my own out here. Of course there is the phone and Skype but it just doesn't feel the same as sitting in front of or next to someone who you can look in the eye and know that they understand you. My life here feels utterly and completely removed from the one I was living in California.
There is a support group meeting tomorrow morning. I already know that I am going to miss it. I've looked up meetings here before and thought about going to them only to chicken out when the date came near. I'll do it again tomorrow, I am sure of it. Because as lonely as I am in my grief I am even more afraid of allowing myself to go back to the emotional place that going to a support group will bring me to.
I've been emotional enough recently as it is.
So I am back here...watching for old men and dogs on roller skates.
I don't have a place like you did in LA and so I come to this space. I need to talk and write and know there are other mothers who miss their babies... Because nobody understands that unless you have lived it. I wish I had friends. I've lost almost all of them since Camille died. It's hard to keep friends who don't get it. I'm not tge same person I used to be and it's not easy to make friends either. People seem shallow to me now. Although I've improved in my bullshit tolerance over the last year, I'm not sure I'm very good at even articulating who I am now to myself let alone someone else. I hope your new spot is lovely and you find the courage to go to a support group. I'm sorry you're missing your people as well as George. Also, if you ate redundant in thoughts and feelings here, you are in good company.
ReplyDeleteOh Renel . . . 'not very good at articulating who I am now to myself let alone someone else' . . . . that's just it. I feel so frayed around the edges that I'm just not sure which parts are me any longer, where I end or start.
ReplyDeleteBrianna, everything I've written could be summed in a very similar set of Cliff notes. Perhaps that is the nature of grief, that it loops back upon itself, that it, perhaps, never really finishes?
It must very difficult and strange to go from your old home in Los Angeles and from having those connections with others to a totally new environment without those people. I've never been to a real life support group either, I just couldn't (can't) face it for some reason.
Thinking of you and remembering George xo
I know those feelings so well. I often sit down to write and realize I'm just going to say besides those same thoughts.
ReplyDeleteI think the support group would help. Honestly, mine does. But I do understand not wanting bring all those emotions back to the surface.
My write feels blocked - and I never even had a brave blog like yours. Just too many comments in too many places, and now
ReplyDeleteI don't know about now.
Thank you, Brianna, for being words for me today, and Renel and CW: "Oh Renel . . . 'not very good at articulating who I am now to myself let alone someone else' . . . . that's just it. I feel so frayed around the edges that I'm just not sure which parts are me any longer, where I end or start."
Meanwhile, no easy spot, where you are. Phone, Skype, like you said, nothing is the same as real eyes in a real face - really seeing you.
Strange transference; I find myself missing LA *for* you. And now, knowing the Jack@Randoms are moving, LA feels even more bereft of its people.
If, when you feel your way through and want to write, I know it will be worth reading. How do you make it wrap around you, this new space?
And George, always in it with you, alone in your alone.
Missing,
CiM