New Blood, Old Blood

“And God knows, I’m not dying but I breathe now
And God knows, it’s the only way to heal now
With all the blood I lost with you
It drowns the love I thought I knew”

-Ellie Goulding, My Blood 

I’ve missed this. I’ve sorely missed this.

My last post was so candid and raw, it literally broke my heart re-reading it. Since that time, I’ve been in the midst of the most terrible, eye opening, and humbling season of my life. Yes, more intense and life-changing than my stays in the hospital, the implosion of my nuclear family, or any depression I’ve been immersed in.

I haven’t written since then – because I simply couldn’t. My soul was crushed. My fire was merely smoldering. Was I alive? Sometimes I wasn’t sure — or I didn’t even want to be.

My sweet, precious Grandmother held on with us until March 19, 2017, at approximately 8:15 AM. I was with her and my parents and grandfather at the hospice when she passed. It was the most shocking, spiritual, and devastating day of my life. Things are completely different now and I will never be the same.

I look back and realize that in that last post, during that time between October 2016 and March 2017 – I was living outside of myself, I was merely surviving day to day, I was a ghost in my own life, working, drifting through each day, smiling, talking, but I don’t think I was even truly there. During that time I watched my grandmother deteriorate rapidly; I watched my family crumble; I watched everything I knew change completely; I watched the seminal person in my life go away for good. Sometimes, I am at a loss for words.

Maybe I’ll talk about it later – but I am so glad to have made it there that day, to be with her as she made her way to paradise, as she went to be with her family and find peace and happiness and good health.

We were selfish and naive human beings in trying to keep her here with us, to be sure. We wanted her here, but Heaven had other plans to heal her and make her better again. I made a beautiful keepsake with a photo of us on my wedding day, along with the rosary I prayed the night before she died and a rose from her hospice room…I look at it every day, talk to her, reminisce about the wonderful times we’ve had. What happened to the past 20 years?

For months, probably March through May, I couldn’t sleep very well. I would wake up nearly each night in a hot sweat, only to travel downstairs to the couch and cry for a couple of hours until I fell asleep again. All through that time, I kept grinding through mounds and oodles of freelance work, pretending that everything was okay… because these clients weren’t going to care, now were they? Money has ruled the day because it is comfortable, it is saline, it is a neat little package that I can control. Relationships? My inner self? Much more sticky than I’ve been able to handle.

March-Present has consisted of a flurry of coping mechanisms and strategies – I’ve lost the most important person to me, the woman who made me feel better about myself, the one person besides my husband I built a true relationship with since my mother neglected me. I’ve been so lonely in my heart… at times I feel numb and at times I am angry and sad and crushed; everything has fallen apart in my world and it’s been a little maddening that I’ve had to keep moving, almost without stopping to grieve, because that’s adult life and I have to, I guess.

Today, as you read this, I am begrudgingly hollow; I still feel like I’m almost not here, I feel like I’m not giving enough to my husband and nephew and avoiding my sister and parents, because I just don’t feel real anymore. I don’t care. I let dramatic, pushy clients throw me around like a rag doll and I sit at my desk, muscles tight, all day long – I have lost myself, the dreaming writer, the music lover, the passionate, poetic creative. I’ve lost my strength and my vivacity and my old self.

A few projects have come across my desk lately that have inspired me – I designed a content concept and wrote a website for a woman who is creating a new community app for women writers — that was neat and I received great feedback. I write a variety of fun blogs for large agencies that explain everything from tooth fillings to how to hire a catering company — I love writing in my nook and delivering the “good stuff”.  But the more that I lose myself and let draining/toxic clients and jobs rule my life, the more I feel like I just don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to get up in the morning or even exist yet I still do…maybe just drifting in and out of each day is the only thing I know to do anymore. I guess I’m still here for a reason, although I don’t know why.

I am in my late 20s, a married professional without kids, I don’t know what direction I’m going in, except that I’m an accomplished and expert writer…but I know there is a pivot I need to make. Right now – there is an emptiness, a void, space. I almost feel like I need to take a few new steps and it’s kind of scaring me.

I need to save myself. I need to start taking care of myself, being myself, and putting myself first. I am so tired of feeling dead and feeling like I’m being ruled by others and their agendas and lying down and dying because it’s just easier. I’m being bullied by an entire company – and I just let it happen, because it’s easier.

The old Kat would not be pushed around. She would get up, leave, and move on to something better. What has happened to the old Kat? Surely, she’s inside there and wants to come back out. But I’ve been so tired, I haven’t even had the energy to try and pull her out again. I’ve busted my butt for everyone, everyone, but myself.

I don’t even know what to say. My shoulders ache and my heart hurts and I feel so separated from the people around me. I’ve abused myself for months and now I am trying to take steps to fix that – I feel so fearful and angry, like a wounded animal, and I’m not sure when this pain will end – or just get better…

It’s a small step, but I bought myself some sneakers online, the type that I used to wear when I was a bit younger and more confident – it symbolizes the “old” me, or rather, the person I know I am – strong willed, bright, loving, and lovable…perhaps these gestures of love toward myself will help me gain strength…I am also praying, deep breathing, meditating, and trying to take things one day at a time.

There is this palpable fear inside of me that I can’t quite put my finger on. It seems easy, right, to put a label on fear? It’s shrouded because it’s anxiety, I guess. I fear something bad is going to happen, that I’m missing another danger, that I am going to have another bomb dropped on me and then I will truly perish, my heart will truly break and I will sink into nothingness…

Sometimes I want a break from life. Sometimes I am speechless.