Two summers ago, we were at Clear Lake on a camping trip over Labor Day weekend. We met some friends for a day of boating. I was asked if I wanted to waterski, which at the time I thought I was a great idea and great fun! Now, let me caveat that 'great idea' with the fact that I hadn't been up on skis in 20 years (but you know the whole riding a bike analogy...) and it was a windy day and the lake was very rough.
So I jumped in - I wasn't anticipating the water to be SO COLD. Immediately, my breathing became shallow as I swam over to the other boat to get the skis and put them on. I swam out aways from the boat and grabbed the rope, gave my "I'm ready!" wave. The first pull of the boat pulled me right over. (Yes, I let go of the rope.) As I spat out the lake water, I was having trouble calming myself down because even though I had a ski vest on, the waves were still crashing into me, splashing water in my face. The second pull, I ALMOST made it up, but went down again - this time underneath the surface of the water. For a moment, I thought I was drowning - or what I thought drowning must feel like. I got to the surface and started to hyperventilate. The friend that was out in the water with me kept me focused and looking at him to calm me down. On the third pull, I just let go of the rope and didn't even try. I was done.
This story could also describe my last month. By the way, today has been a month since my dad's death.
At first, the death experience was so new that you really think that you can get through the process without too much trouble (what was Kubler-Ross thinking anyway?!?!) - especially with a life jacket (friends and family). Even that first week or two home, I felt that I wasn't "too bad"- I'd have some sad moments, but really felt that I was handling things.
Now I feel as I did on my 2nd try - almost getting up, being pulled under and the sensation of drowning - even with my life jacket - the waves are coming faster and are hitting me harder. It's not just waves of grief, but the waves of apathy when I don't feel like getting out of bed or working or running my kids around; or waves of anger because I can't stand one more person asking me how I'm doing. I can feel myself literally swallowing my grief and sadness and it sits like a rock in the pit of my stomach. Some days (like today), I feel like hyperventilating. I try to rise above it, but there's nothing to stand on; no one to stare at me to keep me focused. My feet just dangle below me.
I don't want to try. I have let go of the rope. I am done.
Well said.
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