I find it difficult to put into words sometimes how I am feeling especially on a blog. I started writing in a journal but for some reason I have not been able to write there either. There are so many thoughts swimming around my head but somehow I can't put that into words most of the time.
Since Rachel died, after the initial mind-numbing shock wore off a bit, I have found some solace in reading. In fact, I have read more books in the last 7 weeks than I have probably over the course of the last 7 months.
I started reading the Hunger Games trilogy when we first got to Maryland. Maybe it was because the story was so compelling and easy to read or maybe because it was easy to leave my life and get wrapped up in the life of Katniss. Whatever it was, I read the three books in as many days I think.
Next I read a book on Ken's kindle which was very dull and boring whose name I cannot even recall. I decided after that book that I do not like reading books on the kindle.
I started another book on the plane ride home to El Paso, called "Bringing up Bebe" which I had heard of a few times and was curious about. It turns out to be a bit of a memoir/non-fiction if you will about a comparison between American and French parenting styles. Interesting read.
I then went through a bunch of books at home that are my "old stand bys." That is, books that I have read before (girlie books as Ken calls them) and like enough to read again. I never really donate my books unless I disliked the book because I never know when I will want to read it again. I know. It seems weird to read books a bunch of times, but I like to. Jemina J, See Jane Date, Seeing me Naked, Georgia's Kitchen... All books in my library that I had read but pulling them out was like a chat with an old friend I hadn't seen in a while. I remembered the story but had forgotten the details. After that I went back and re-read The Hunger Games and Catching Fire. Not sure why but I did.
I think I am reading like a crazy person because I have always been able to lose myself in a book. Really learning about the characters and getting into the story so much that I am almost transported into their world. I guess it gives me a chance to be in another world since right now it is hard to be myself in my own story. The one where the parents hope and wish that their baby won't die but she dies anyway and all they are left with are pictures and heartbreak.
Some days it gets easier and I am able to go about things fairly normally. But sometimes I feel the physical symptoms of grief almost overwhelming me.
Tight throat, burning stomach, tightness in my chest. Tears welling up that I cannot stop.
I am sure that it will get better. It has to, right? Even though I know that Rachel is gone, sometimes my mind just can't wrap itself around this reality.
I have returned to work which is helping somewhat to distract me but even walking into the hospital the other day was a huge endeavor for me. The last time I was there, I was walking out of the hospital, with empty arms the morning Rachel had died.
Time is supposed to help to heal.
Until then, I can keep getting lost in my books.