My Breakdown - Part 1

The next series of posts will be the account my meltdown I spoke of here. I've decided to post in parts, for - even to me - the entrity of the event feels overwhelming. Thank you for reading, for understanding, and for meeting me in my grief from wherever you are in yours. Please know that today - as you read this - I am fine, as fine as I was the day before I wasn't. In fact, I'm corralling four children for the day ages 4, 5, 6, and 7 with art projects, frozen berry vanilla yogurt snacks and (hopefully - if the degree marker gets above it's current 6) an oustide excurtion.


It struck so very fast. Yesterday I was fine. Yesterday I made my three category to-do list with fervor. Yesterday I worked to cross off as many of those tasks as possible. And then, the crash, the plummet that deposited me into my bed at 9:30pm sobbing like she had just died. That unarmed me so quickly I was unable to look into my husband’s eyes and see that look, the sad and exasperated – I’ve tried everything, what else can I do? I just can’t help her – look.

A sleeping pill and a stiff neck later I woke to the morning sun peeking through the sheer green drapes in our room. I took in my surroundings. Much to my surprise, nothing had changed. The fog of nothingness still lingered, surrounding my every move. He still had the look. We both knew today would not be good. But the kids, what about the kids? When I am like this I am not their mother. I am a stranger. I heard them bouncing around downstairs, The Comedian’s voice lifting at the end of every sentence. I could picture her hand gestures accompanying each lift. Even that couldn’t conjure a smile out of the deep pit that my despair had turned into. I heard Bear;s steady, serious voice inquiring about breakfast and suddenly I had a glimpse into her everyday world. No, I couldn’t do this to them. They are too little. They are still trying to make sense of Emma’s death, as much as they are trying to make sense of Tigger, our cat’s disappearance. Maybe they wrestle with Emma’s even more, as they never saw her – never knew her. I saw her but I never really knew her.

“I want to go. I need to escape. I want to go somewhere that is quiet, where no-one knows me.” I said, quietly, mutinous tears appearing on my cheeks again. He nodded and with a brief hug said, “Go”. Gasping I asked, “Do you have any ideas?” He shook his head, simply saying, “I hope it helps”. My tearful nod was meant to say, “me too”, but words refused to form. I left. I drove as my chest heaved under my wracking sobs. I ended up at a place I never expected.