Out of Nowhere

Things come out of nowhere.

We went out to dinner and had a pretty good time. I didn't cry, even behind my menu, at the restaurant. It felt almost "normal" to be out, among people, again. We even took the kids to get ice cream. I could almost have convinced myself that I felt...not happy. Not that. But...okay. Functioning. Able to breathe without too much effort and pain.

Then, on the way home, Harry Chapin's Cats in the Cradle came on the radio, and M. and I were both in tears by the time we pulled into our driveway.

Things like that, they come out of nowhere and punt you right back.

***

M. read my blog for the first time in weeks yesterday. And if I say that I'm angry and resentful that he hasn't been reading it all along - would it matter? It will be weeks before he reads this, if he ever does. I'm trying to be understanding, I'm trying to make sense of his process of grief, and taking the advice everyone seems to give - "Be gentle with yourself, be kind to one another." I'm trying. But trying hardly ever works. (Ask Yoda...)

And I don't know why it makes me angry, but it does. And this anger, it comes out of nowhere... I know he's got a right to read or not read whatever he likes. I know it must be painful for him to read my blog. Hell, it's painful to write. After he read my blog, he said, "Every time I read your blog (me: all... what, three times now?) my neck and back get incredibly tight." His body's usual response to anxiety and anger. It was about all the feedback I got. That, and he said I was glad I had the community I did, and he wished that it was what he needed, too, since it was so readily available. And good for me for finding it.

Good for me. Right.

There are times when I can understand why so very many couples end up divorcing after the loss of a child. Even when you're trying (yes, Yoda, I hear you) to be gentle and kind, it just isn't easy. Even if you manage to keep the lines of communication open, there's a lot of static and it's hard to hear each other through it.

***

And now, out of nowhere, a new job has fallen into M.'s lap. Someone at his work was so angry about the way their company treated him following our son's death, that she gave him a name and number to another place and talked him up to this new company.

So, in the midst of all of this, he's cutting back on his hours at the place he's at now down to four days, and then picking up two more days at this new place, in order to begin building a caseload. That means he'll be gone six days a week, for as long as it takes for him to get enough clients to quit working his old job.

The timing is terrible. But I know he's unhappy where he is, and I do want him to get out of there. I just wish he could quit outright and start at a new place, but health care in America sucks, especially mental health, and there's so not much out there anymore that offers a psychologist a salaried position. Unless you want to work for the government. Or the place he's at, where they treat their therapists like used cars salesmen competing for the top position.

The world is a really twisted place.

***

So I'm paranoid. Can you blame me?

This swine flu thing is giving me anxiety attacks, and now they're reporting a possible case in our state. Like I don't have enough to worry about, now there's a pandemic! (Thanks, Wilbur!) The littles are in school today, but I think I'm keeping them home tomorrow. And the rest of the week. And maybe forever.

We had been considering going back to homeschooling in the fall anyway. I hate the school they're in, and I'm starting to see all the signs I did with the older two of school sapping their spirit and energy. And they, too, are beginning to hate it and dread going (a sure sign it's time!)

Of course, William's death decided me. I want my babies as close to me as possible for as long as possible.

But I was going to wait the school year out. Now? I don't know. This flu thing makes me tremble inside. What if? I know the odds are saying the risk of death is low... most flus kill infants and the elderly. (Should I be grateful I don't have a newborn in my arms right now? Ha. The ironies in this world can knock the wind out of you in an instant...) But I have been on the wrong end of "the odds" now, and my perspective has changed. Considerably.

Where did this thing come from? I feel like I'm being blindsided, out of nowhere, over and over. Maybe it's because I've begun this horrible journey into darkness. I can't see what's coming. And I hate being so afraid.

But just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not out to get you...right?