Monday, April 23, 2012

I'm Broken

Today I wailed. 

This has only happened to me three other times.  Usually I have been in a seated or laying position, but today I was walking through my house reading my email, via cell phone, when this spell came on.  I haven't had a crying spell like this in a few months, but they are pretty horrifying when they come on (and this is coming from the person who is experiencing it, so I can only imagine what it looks/feels like to others).

Here's the best glimpse I can offer of how it went today:
Heavy sorrow swoops over me, and all of the sudden, all I can do is cry.
I sob and sob.  Uncontrollably.
Tears, warm like a heating pad and as large as quarters, stream down my cheeks and neck.  Into my mouth.  Onto my shirt.
My mouth gapes (and let me put it this way, if I were a fish, I'd probably be a large-mouth bass).  
Somehow I go from standing to kneeling, and frightful moans begin to come out of me.
My cat comes to my side to comfort me.  This makes me cry more because he was my baby's friend.
I begin to say (through my sobs) "I'm broken.  I'm broken.  I'm broken.  I'm broken.  I'm...."  Finally I run out of strength to say anything.
Slowly, I begin to re-collect myself.
I look up at the clock.
Ten minutes have passed (this is five minutes less than the other three times for sure).
I try to wipe some of the heavy, wet tears away.
I hear my husband come through the door.

I hadn't even been home two minutes, when all of this came on.  The back door to our house was open because I knew my husband was close to coming home....fortunately he didn't walk in to find me in this state, and neither did my neighbors, though I thought for sure they would.

This may sound odd, but I actually fully appreciate these scary moments when I'm caught up in my emotion.  I appreciate them because I know that I'm fully feeling in those moments, and at other times, I'm not always sure I am.

People don't usually get to experience this side of me.  The only one "lucky" enough to have seen me in this moment has been my husband.  He was amazing.  I thought I was going to hyperventilate that time, but he just held me and reminded me to breathe.  I couldn't ask for anything more.

So, if you're wondering if I'm 'okay', or you've been admiring my 'strength', please understand that I'm not 'okay' or 'strong'.  I still feel and mourn the loss of my daughter every day, and I always will. 

I just try to do the best that I can, and that is all I can expect of myself.


  1. Though you would know better than anyone else, I would say that you are strong. To cry and break down is not weak, but to share your grief and feelings with the world is very brave.

  2. No parent should ever have to go through this pain, sending you hugs and still keeping you guys in my prayers.

  3. You get up most mornings. You put one foot in front of the other. You keep breathing - even when it's the uneven, shaky, painful breathing in between sobs. You keep going. I find that pretty incredible. I know it takes a lot of strength - more than you ever realized you have. So yes, I do admire your strength and I always will.

  4. Strength comes in many forms. Being able to face the world with a smile is one kind of strength. Allowing yourself to feel and give in to your emotions, as painful as they must certainly be, is simply another kind of strength. And, it takes yet another kind of strength to share all of this with others. You ARE strong, and I am glad you have the strength to share with us.

  5. You have every right to have "good days" sometimes and "bad days" other times. I suppose it's just part of a very long healing process, Tracy. I am so sorry that you are going through this. We all wish we could change the situation for you and bring your sweet Catelyn back. Corey and I still say a prayer for you guys every night--just wish I could do more...