Today is January 31, 2011. The last day of January. In a nutshell,
January kicked my ass.
I mean in every way possible I got beat up by January.
Tomorrow starts a new month. A new time. A new start. Actually I already feel a new start. After an emergency session with my psychiatrist this morning, he confirmed what I already thought.
I must take this time to talk just a second about my psychiatrist. First off it feels weird saying "my psychiatrist" as he was sissy's too and we would always go to see him together. For a while I kept saying "our psychiatrist" and now it has slowly turned into "my" psychiatrist. Anyway, he is amazing. I love him. Trina? Not so much which is funny because he adored her and two days after she died he was the first non-family member to call me to offer condolences. Her obituary wasn't even in the paper, he had obviously looked up her medical records (I had called him the week she was in the hospital) and he was keeping tabs on what was going on with her. Anyway, sissy had gotten to the point where she didn't want to see him anymore but I knew he was helping with her meds and I loved him so I was basically making her continue to see him. Anyway, I left a message for him this morning and I didn't really know what to say, I haven't been in my right mind lately and I just blurted out "I need to see you ASAP." It usually takes two months to get in but I got a call at 10:30 am this morning and was told if I could be there in a half hour Dr. X would be happy to see me. I made it to my appointment with 10 minutes to spare. I walked into his office and broke down into an ugly cry. No, it was even worse than an ugly cry, it was a FUGLY cry. Even his three big dogs that he keeps in his office and are always trying to muscle their way into our sessions (Trina HATED them! Oh how we'd bitch and complain about those damn dogs together!) ran away and hid from me.
So, Dr. X's consensus? It was the same thing I already knew.
There was a definitive shift after January 15th. Things inside me did change. I had made it one year without my sissy. One whole year. I am at a new crossroads now. I am no longer at the corner of Shock Street and Disbelief Drive.
Today I stand at Starting To Accept Avenue and Fuck, This Is Reality Road.
These are two intersections that I never wanted to travel to. These were not pathways that I had programmed into my GPS of Life and yet I've already gone past one of them and I'm sitting in neutral at the other one.
So yes, the shit part is that I am coming out of shock. My sister is dead. She's not coming back. I'll never have my life again. I will never have "my" person back. No disrespect to my husband, but sissy was "my" person. Josh was Trina's person and I knew and respected that but sissy was mine. We had grown up together. We had 4,907,182,356 inside jokes between the two of us. We could literally look at each other and know what the other was thinking.
I guess it's no wonder why I feel so empty inside. I told Dr. X that there are times when I look down and fully expect to see my entire body bleeding because I feel so raw and fragile. One of the only things I remember of the first few months was telling myself that this was temporary. Losing Trina was only temporary, she would come back. She WOULD be back. Logically I knew this was impossible but in order to even get up in the morning I had to have that in my mind. She would come back to us. She had to. We can't live without her.
And yet we are. But it's not the same. It will never be the same. Nothing will ever be the same again.
Here comes my standard disclaimer. My home is not at all like my blog is. I do my best to fill my house with laughter and fun for the kids. We all watch "Wipeout" together and "Minute to Win It" and now we're on to "American Idol." We do crafts together, we read together, we play Lego's, we have tickle fights and pillow pile time. I do let the kids watch some somewhat educational tv on their own but the most important to me is that we laugh, we have fun, we talk about everything, we tell stories, we laugh at new stories, we bake together. If a stranger were to come into my home at any given time he would think we were a happy family but know that a close family member had died because we do talk about her. But he would see a house full of laughter and fun. THAT is what I owe the kids. THAT is why I get up every day. THAT is why my blog is so dark and dreary. I keep this side, the REAL side, away from the kids. They don't need to deal or hear or listen to my grief. I am there for them with their grief but mine does not touch their already wounded hearts. Instead I get it all out here. So if you think my life is too dreary and too dark and too sad, well, you would be correct. It is. But the other side, the side that belongs to the kids, is full of happiness and laughter. Not the same laughter and happiness we had before, it's very hollow but I am doing my damnedest to make it seem it's a real as can be.
So my crossroads right now are Starting To Accept Avenue and Fuck, This Is Reality Road. Shock Street and Disbelief Drive are in my rear view mirror. In a way I want to go back. I want to go back to not believing this is real. I want to go back to being so wounded and shocked that I actually thought my dead sister was coming back to life. I want to go back to when I can't remember a damn thing. I see pictures from the past year and I don't remember any of it. 2010 was a throwaway. It was disposable. It's gone and I can't remember it.
2011 is about to get a whole lot worse. I talked to my next door neighbor who's brother died 2 1/2 years ago, six months post cancer diagnosis, and she felt the same way. The first year is hard but you don't believe it. But the second year? The second year is hell. You realize this is it. This is your life. Your loved one doesn't come back and for the first time you really understand it and it is unbelievably painful.
So that is where I am right now. I'm planning a cute Pirate surprise birthday party for Valentina that I am dreading. How? How is this possible? How can my daughter be turning four years old? She was only 2 when her TT died. Sissy didn't even get to see Valentina have her one "girlie girl" birthday party, although she'd be cracking up at the fact that Valentina chose to have a pirate surprise party..... with a pink pirate cake. It's just plain not fair that sissy can't be here for these big milestones, birthdays, anniversary's, holidays and most importantly, our normal every day to day things that we ALWAYS did together. I never drove more than a mile without sissy in my car because she lived a mile away so the first thing I did when I had to run errands or go shopping was pick up sissy. One mile. That was the longest I drove without her.
I have already driven past one intersection and am about to drive down two more roads.