Unconscious

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

On Saturday morning I had a plan - I was going to take Ted's car to the Burbank 24 Hour Fitness to take a Bodypump class and leave Ted with my car (that has the car seat) so he could take Mo and the dogs to the dog park.  As soon as I got on the freeway, I realized that I was in my own car and had left Ted and Mo stranded.  When I pulled up to the gym, I realized that I was at the North Hollywood location (not Burbank) where their Bodypump class was already half done.

On Monday, I set off for our synagogue Mommy and Me class.  I strapped Mo in and started driving and then realized, once I got on the 134 FWY that I was not going to the temple, which is off the 5.  I'm not sure where I was going actually but I had to get off the highway and wind my way through surface streets back towards the hills.

Yesterday, I had a physical therapy appointment at 12:15.  At around 12:10, I realized that I had driven past my exit and it took me 15 minutes to turn around and find my way back.

It happens nearly every day.  And, it would be easy for me to chalk it up to "Mommy brain" or just being a ditz (because Lord knows, I can be the ditziest) - but I think it is something else.  No, I KNOW it is.  I've got grief brain.  I am largely totally unaware of details (you know - like the details of where I am going) and am basically getting through each day with a numbed out brain.  My thoughts loop and loop and loop and though it all seems normal (if not a little air-heady) on the surface, it is messed up and jumbled on the inside.  You see, my every thought contains some bit of grief in it.  Sometimes it is completely consuming, other times it is just eating away at my consciousness little by little.

During a playdate with a friend Mo's age and his older brother yesterday, I found myself completely consumed with wondering if Mo and Max would play together like these two boys.  Would they wrestle and argue or hug and kiss?  During Mo's swim lesson on Sunday, I was thinking about whether I would be in the pool with Max and another teacher at the same time that Mo was in with his daddy and their teacher or would Max be doing something else by now (like Tae Kwon Do or My Gym or who knows?)  When Mo is being a picky eater, I am thinking about whether Max would still be a good eater or if age would have made him picky....and so on and so on and so on.

Every time I get in my car, I think about whether I am up to driving past Max's daycare and the thought of that preoccupies my brain for a long time after we've gone by.  I think about the kids who went there with Max.  I wonder if their parents ever thought about Max again (I wouldn't know - I never heard from any of them).  I wonder if the new families know that my son died there.  I think about how much he loved it there.  I just think about it.  I can't stop thinking about it.  When I finally snap out of it, I am nowhere near where I had planned to go.  I just drive and drive and drive.

When Mo is asleep and Ted and I have started our evening routine (which basically consists of watching as much television as possible in 3 hours), I am also messing around on my phone.  I don't even know what I am doing - reading people's blogs, checking out Facebook, answering work emails, reading articles about life after death and grief.  I am doing that while watching TV until my brain gets completely overloaded with information and I realize I am not really paying attention to any of it - I am actually lost in my usual train of thought - about Max and Mo and what should be and how much I miss him and how much I envy "normal" families and how I wish he was remembered by the people who he loved and on and on and on.

I seem to have cultivated unconsciousness and I sort of wonder whether that is necessarily a bad thing (it feels like it is) and how long I can expect this to last. The unconsciousness is actually exhausting because though I am completely lost to the present moment, I am also completely consumed by past ones and ones that "should" be and ones that I hope will (and won't) be in the future.  I am thinking that I am losing the present moment but worried that it would hurt too much if it were any other way.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I am the same. No matter what I am doing, the death of my daughter is always at the background of my mind if it's not in the front. Never thought of this is my life now.

Anonymous said...

http://packoffixations.blogspot.com/ your post made me think of this. I hope you don't mind me sharing this with you. sending prayers to you. your sweet Max will never be forgotton

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