Grieving

It's no secret that major clinical depression and anxiety stole over two years of my life. I always feel the need to insert major clinical depression and anxiety so you all will understand that I'm not self diagnosing. That it wasn't just a 'difficult' period in my life. That I wasn't just 'going through' something. I know it's because I've heard people say, "Oh, I was so depressed. It was terrible. Major depression. I didn't eat or sleep for like two days." After I stop fantasizing about poking their eyes out, I want to shake them and tell them what my major depression was like. But I don't. No, that's a lie. I do, I totally do.

Anyway, as I'm healing, as I'm 'waking' up from this depression, I'm also beginning to grieve. I had no idea this would happen. It's blindsided me, and while my therapist and psychiatrist have explained the why's of it to me, it is still incredibly difficult to work through.

I'm grieving what I missed emotionally while I was present physically.

Did you catch that?

I physically saw Sarah learn to pedal a trike, but I didn't experience it emotionally. I physically saw John put his face in the water and blow bubbles for the first time, but I didn't experience the joy of it. I psychically saw Violet ride a bike without training wheels, but did not experience the amazement of it. Oh, I smiled, but I didn't feel it.  I bathed my children. But I did not enjoy it. I did not blow bubbles with the soap. I washed and dried them. I did not make funny hair-do's and laugh and giggle. I was there physically, but I was emotionally absent. Now I realize this. And it hurts like hell.

 

Added to this knowledge that I didn't enjoy things, is the new and oh so fun knowledge that I have actual chunks of time that I do not remember. I don't mean like, "I don't remember that conversation." Or "You got a new shirt?" I mean, I flew to Michigan with my three children and I don't remember it.

I recently found a video and couldn't place where it had taken place, or why my husband wasn't in it. It slowly dawned on me that I was in Michigan, with my three small children, and yet my husband was not there. Which meant I had flown. I began looking at more photo's and more video's from that time period and eventually pieced together the trip and  brought back some memories. I call them 'shadow memories.' They are not vivid, or reliable or detailed. And sometimes they are plain wrong.

After I pieced together the trip, I had to go to my husband (hysterical) with the knowledge that I had no knowledge, and what did this mean? We went to  my therapist the next day and began this new journey I'm on, this one we're kind of refer to as 'grief.'

There are many, many things I don't remember. Even more things that I remember but wasn't emotionally present for. And I don't know which one is worse: the not remembering at all, or the remembering but not being able to feel.