Thursday, September 29, 2016

Cloudy Days, Cloudy Thoughts

It has been raining in spurts, but it's always been cloudy.  My thoughts haven't led to tears, but I've been revisiting sadness all day.  It's nice to have the weather cooperating; misery loves miserable company was a lesson I learned in Psych 101.

All the Happy Ladies card players yesterday were newer than I to Tucson.  They were, for the most part, newer than 2011, arriving after I was perforated, well beyond my 15 minutes of fame.  WHAT! You met the President and First Lady?!?!?  So, out came the album with the Pete Souza photos of recovering me and the Obamas.

No matter how many times they told me that I looked great, I went beyond and behind that and was right back in the hospital room at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, crying onto Michelle Obama's embroidered cardigan sweater.  It's a lovely memory, for the most part.  Yesterday was the least part, though.

For some reason, the memory of that afternoon was cast in the shadow of the sorrow.  Usually, I focus on that moment, not the reasons behind it. Usually,  I laugh at my dirty hair, at discussing broccoli with Michelle, at The President holding my hands and urging me to look at our better natures.  Usually I see that moment as the beginning of my recovery.  Yesterday, I remembered just how sad I was as I moved on.

Talking about the event has gotten harder for me of late.  I snapped at a stranger who wondered why I was limping. She'd had a recent hip replacement and was looking for a kindred spirit.  I saw her as an intrusive busy body poking her nose into my personal space.  This is new, for me.  Usually, I give a rueful smile and make a vague reference to an injury.  If pressed, especially if I look familiar, I'll tell the sad tale.

Lately, though, I've been curt.  I've been unwilling to share.  I've felt invaded.  I haven't been feeling the love.  I wonder if that's because I see myself as healthy.  I wonder if I am finally tired of being a poster child for loss and grief.  TBG wondered, in the early months, how I'd feel when no one recognized me any more.  Right now, that would be just fine.


4 comments:

  1. Sorry, friend. Hoping brighter days are ahead for you. ((HUGS))

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Writing helps SO much. And knowing that you are all out there reading it makes it less self-indulgent whining and more sharing... which feels a lot better.
      a/b

      Delete
  2. Your words make me realize what a long process healing is.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. "How long did it take you to recover?" is my least favorite question, bc the answer is "It's ongoing."
      a/b

      Delete

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