Inside My Head. Inside My Heart.

November 5, 2008

Dear Diary,

I'm just so sick of these days.

The days where I show up to work one part frazzled (from wrestling an unwilling three-year-old into a pair of mittens), one part stressed (because of tonight's 6 o'clock deadline), and one part sad (because that's just the way I am these days).

It's the sad part that's really getting to me.

You see, I can handle the frazzled part with a few timeouts and a couple deep breaths. I can handle the stressed part with a well crafted to-do list and my ringer switched to 'off.' But the sad part? There's really no way of escaping it. The best I can do is close my office door, wedge myself into the teeny little nook between my desk and the wall, and let myself cry.

Sometimes I turn the radio up so the woman across the hall isn't able to hear me. Sometimes I don't. It comes on so fast, and I really don't care who has to witness my whimpers any more.

I'm usually okay. You know, I'm able to return a few phone calls and I'm able to throw together a half-decent presentation for a morning meeting. But sometimes--oh sometimes--the craziest little nothings can throw me into an emotional tailspin.

Like that stupid #$%^ing printer jam--how that little frustration turned into an impromptu cry fest for the baby, I'll never understand.

I guess I'm a little lonely. It kind of feels like the rest of the world has moved on (as they absolutely should). But here I am, left behind in a creepy, dusty ghost town with nothing to do but listen to the echoing squeaks as I spin myself around and around on an empty bar stool--and occasionally shout obscenities into the air as I squash the tumbleweeds with the bottom of my boots.

I can see the road. I can see for miles in every direction. I just can't figure out how to do anything with all those options.

And then I remember that I'm not any cowboy. I'm just a 27 year-old girl who's wiping my own snot with the sleeve of my favorite hooded sweatshirt--who likes to make mix CDs with titles like "Blah Day Mix" and "For When I'm Feeling Down" and "Sometimes Life Sucks."

Good heavens, it's like I'm turning into a depressed teenager again. If you happen to see me shuffling around in Goth style clothes while listening to Nirvana, please, by all means, call my mother to discuss your concerns.

I guess this is the point where I need to learn to take people's advice, and just be patient with myself and my feelings.

So what if the sun rising over the lake doesn't bring to mind loveliness, and peace, and God's greatness? So what if the changing leaves don't inspire me to ponder the beauty in death? So what if the only things that make me laugh these days are Jared, James, Sesame Street and The Office?


This is where I'm at. And I truly believe that the more I can feel it, the more I can talk about it, the more I can just deal with it, the shorter my stay will be in this lonely, abandoned place.

I'll take my time, but you can bet your ass that I will not wallow. I will not tarry.

I'd rather take my time and find my way to a normal place, than spend way too long trying to admire the wreckage through a set of rose colored glasses. Besides, I don't even own a pair.

And you know? This lonely place? I'm guessing that it will always be there--unfortunately, no one has the power to bull-doze it. Even after I've moved away, I'm sure I'll be forced to take the unexpected weekend trip, or just swing by for a minute or two.

And that's okay. That's life.

In closing, I'd like to thank every one who has taken care of me during this last month and a half. Thank you for reading my blog and thank you for each of your kind acts. Thank you for sending too much email for me to answer, and thank you for allowing me to experience this grief in a very public setting. I know it's a sharp turn from my normal daily dribble, but somehow, I find it to be very therapeutic.


(That picture up there is all over the internet, so I really don't know who to credit it to. But damn, that is one hell of a tumbleweed.)


Laura said...

I'm with you, sista. I know what you mean by feeling left behind. We've got each other :-)

And truly, it's okay to cry all the time. Eventually the tears will dry up a little bit. But I think this whole experience will have a big chunk of your heart. for forever.

Katy said...


Michemily said...


Mindy said...

I'm sorry, Amy! I know where you're at... I've been there. I'm in a different sort of sad place now. Here's to better days--the real ones, not the ones just seen through rose colored glasses.

Cameron said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Cameron said...

Sorry about that!
What I was trying to say was...
I wish I could give you a big hug. Being sad sucks! I have felt the pain of loss when my mother died two years ago last month.(I can't imagine losing a child.) At the time, Sister Sommerfeldt told me that I'd always feel a little sense of loss until we are reunited someday. It still hurts like heck from time to time because we were so close and yes, the tears come too. Hang in there. You are in my prayers.

JAMIE RBZ said...

I can remember feeling the same way you do, just a week or so after my daughter's memorial service. Everyone's life just moved on, and I felt like I was stuck, living the nightmare.

You are doing well, and it's going to time, but you know that. You are in my prayers.

Kita said...

Hang in there...HUGS

Sarah said...

It's OK to cry. I do it sometimes too.

Cheryl said...

I'm sorry Amy. Hugs for you (((((((Amy)))))))and prayers too.

Jen R. said...

Perhaps you can find comfort knowing you are not alone. There are others who understand your pain. And maybe it can help you to know that your grief and your words have helped me and I'm sure many other women.

Joy Through Cooking said...


I remain so so sorry for your loss. You will get there, I am sure. Just take care of yourself in the meantime, k?


Grandma said...

Amy, a mix of crappy and happy days is ok.and sometimes you have both in the same day. xoxoxo Mom

annie said...

We lost a baby shortly after her birth over 10 years ago. Time helped me feel mostly better, but still occasionally I burst into tears at the memories and loss. I've come to accept that as normal. It's a sad chapter in my life, but the rest of the chapters are happily regular.
Hang in there.

akshaye said...

If it were not for other people we would never make it. Besides Amy, for all the times you have made us snort on our keyboards, the least we can do is be there for you now. Hugs.

MB said...

I keep meaning to comment to let you know how sorry I am for your recent loss but every time I try to write something it all sounds wrong. I'm so sorry. You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers.

I hope you get back to feeling like your ol' self soon. You will have good days and bad but hopefully the bad will be fewer and further apart eventually.

Do your best to focus on Jared, James, Sesame Street and The Office and let the tears out when you have to.

Take care of yourself and know that the pain will ease over time even if it will never completely go away.

Marc and Megan said...

Dang it! Why do I have to live on the freaking other end of the world in times like this? I could really use a good night out... there is something about just being with someone that understands. Nothing has to be said, but in that nothingness there is so much healing. I totally felt it when we were with you guys. When are you coming out here??

I had a good, out-of-nowhere cry last night... those random moments are now part of a new normal, as much as it totally sucks. And, it does suck. Please call me when you have those sucky moments... chances are, I'm having one, too. :) (and, I'll try to remember to take my own advice, too!)

Rosie said...

My parents were in a car accident and my 5 year old brother died a couple of years before I was born. This past year was the 50th anniversary of that sad event, and my parents commemorated it in a very special way, that helped them. I'll bet if they are alive at the 60th anniversary, they'll commemorate that too, as they should.

Not a day goes by that they don't think of Mark. Not a day goes by that you won't think of your child. That's the way it is. There's something lovely and sad about it. And it's life.

Your ability to contain/express/manage your sadness will change over time. He/she though, was part of you and always will be.

Do your best each day. What else can we ask of one another, anyway?


VICKI IN AZ said...

Dear Amy,
I wish so much to say something profound to lift your sorrow if even for a brief moment. I will just say this, you make me laugh I have come to enjoy your posts so very much. You have such a lovely way with words, and you know what I mean. I told you I read your funny posts to my Jared. I was reading President Uchtdorf's talk from the women's meeting of G.C. today and I thought of you and how you inspire me to begin writing again. He said "The desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul. No matter our talents, education, backgrounds, or abilities, we each have an inherent wish to create something that did not exist before." What I am trying to say is you are inspiring me whether you make me laugh or cry here with you in AZ, you, someone I don't know but wish with all my heart I did cuz You are Real and proud of it. I love you Amy and thank you for this chance to mourn with you, I consider it a great honor.
Sending a hug,

MB said...

I just realized I didn't include my link when I commented. Again, you are in my thoughts and prayers and I hope that the hurt you are feeling deminishes over time even if it will never completely go away.

MB said...

D'oh ... nevermind ....


Sarah said...

Keep on crying, it's okay. And keep on being honest, it's wonderful. And keep on blogging about it. We love you!

Annette said...

Hey Amy, Come to Kansas. You can see tumbleweeds that size blowing across the highway ALL the time! I've even had them hit my car! A VERY scary experience!!

(((HUGS))) to you. It sounds to me that you're dealing with this exactly as you should. I'm glad you're so open and real in your blog. Know we are all still here for you!!

Mary said...

Yes, I've been there too. It is a hard place in life to be. Christmas will be hard - all those songs about babies. We sang that one that begins "Oh, hush thee, my baby; a story I’ll tell" in RS that first Christmas after my baby died. I couldn't bear it and ran to the bathroom and cried. The line "Jesus will care for his little one here" made my heart ache for the little one I should have been holding. After that Sunday, I sang that song in the shower over and over, thinking I could prepare myself for singing it at church - it didn't work. You are in my thoughts and in my heart Amy.

chirunner said...

You already know how sorry I am about your loss. What I want to say today is how impressed with you I am and how inspiring I find your posts about this grieving process to be. You are so real in the very best sense of the word. You draw me in to your emotions in a way that I can almost feel it with you (although no one can ever feel exactly what you feel). And yet in all your pain you still manage to find humor and share it with us. I wish I could live next door to you and give you daily hugs and let you cry on my shoulder whenever you wanted. Short of that, know that my heart aches with you and for you. Believe it or not, your posts tell me you are doing quite well in the grieving process. Keep crying when you need to and keep writing. You are a bright spot in my day.

Heather of the EO said...

After I first read this post I couldn't comment. Because there just aren't words worthy.

And I still can't think of something that would do it justice.

So I'll just say that you have such a gift for expressing what you're going through. I'm sorry that life stinks and sneaks up on you and bams you over the head with sadness. I don't really get why grief has to be so tricky. It just plain sucks.

But this is still a beautiful post!

turtle said...

i know, i know. i'm a total stranger.

but i hope you feel better.