Train Wreck

Today sucked. I cried all day. I pulled away from those I love and who love me most, because that's what I do when I'm hurting.

My youngest brother is in a band (so is my second-to-youngest brother, for that matter). Tonight is the final show of his current tour, in Phoenix at the Crescent Ballroom. I don't remember when the tour was scheduled (pre-Weston's death or post-Weston's death), but I told him I would go, and I was excited about going.

And then today came. In addition to the tour, it was a big day for my family for other reasons. A happy day. And I just completely fell apart.

The MISS Foundation is doing holiday survival workshops every week through the New Year. The first one was this afternoon. It wasn't emotionally intense like the support groups are; it was more practical. But wouldn't you know it, I was a complete wreck there too. I did feel some solidarity when hearing from the presenter and others that the holidays are horrible for grieving parents (not that I didn't already know). I'm not glad that other parents are going through this, but it always helps to know I'm not alone, and I'm not crazy.

So after the workshop, I was thinking that a raucous concert is probably not the best place for me tonight, but I still didn't know what to do. Then my brother texted me to let me know he put my name on "the list." Yeah, my brother is cool. And so, apparently, am I for getting on "the list." But then I had to call my brother and tell him I didn't think it was going to happen. I felt like such a shitty person for doing this, but I also know that, if anyone is going to give me a break about these things, it is my family. And he did.

Incidentally, not all families are as supportive and understanding as mine. I have observed and heard some horror stories about families that provided NO support, or worse, and simply added to the parents' grief. So I am even more grateful for my family.

My dad came down for the show, so we went to dinner with him and my plays-in-a-band-but-not-tonight brother. It worked out well, not only because I got to see part of my family, but also because I was not in the mood to cook. This is not like the new me, who is becoming quite the chef. For the last couple of months, I have been cooking delicious, very healthy dishes. I think there are several reasons: cooking is a distraction, I am being semi-obsessive about my weight, and I am OBSESSED with healthy food. I even get upset with Shannon for buying 100% whole wheat bread because (1) it is not sprouted-grain bread, and (2) it has unpronounceable ingredients. I was conscious of food issues before Weston, but now I am extreme. Good nutrition is very important in pregnancy, and even though I ate healthfully, my placenta still could not do its job for Weston. Losing Weston was, among an infinite number of other things, a colossal reminder that I am NOT in control of ANYTHING. But the food that goes in my family's collective mouth IS something I can control. So, while parts of my Type-A personality are missing or maybe gone forever, other parts of it are alive and well. They have become Type A+, if there is such a thing.

Anyway, today I did not want to cook. I just wanted to lie on the couch and cry. Not wanting to do something I have grown to care about is not a good sign. I didn't run today either (it was my day off from exercise), but who knows if running would have made me feel better anyway?

I have a feeling it's going to get worse before it gets better. Effing Thanksgiving is looming. The only events I am committing to this week are (1) my first counseling session (finally!); (2) cooking one dish for effing Thanksgiving dinner (distraction!); (3) taking Caroline to a puppet show; (4) the gifts for the NICU babies; and (5) LOTS of running (and running away, perhaps). And possibly some throwing up, breakdowns, and panic attacks thrown in for good measure. That's a lot, but I did not include (1) feeling thankful; (2) smiling; (3) laughing; or (4) generally enjoying the holiday. Because I don't, and I won't.

Caroline always seems to see right through me. I was crying in the car, and she pointed out that my nose was running. I just agreed with her and didn't elaborate. But, a few minutes later, she said, "Your nose is running because you're crying." And I thought only parents could see through the backs of heads!

I guess I am thankful for one thing today: that there is not an ounce of judgment in my family. That I have a family that accepts and embraces my train-wreck self. And still loves me.

I'm a train wreck
And so are you
And if you don't know where you're going
Do you mind if I come too

And you wonder what's the deal
You've got to fake it til it's real
There is no benefit in doubt
You've got to let it all hang out
I'll say I love you, what the heck
I'm a trainwreck

I'm a Train Wreck
~Old 97s