i found the previous post of mine appropriate for a topic, not because it is popular news, but because of the compassion fatigue topic and how it ironically relates to me.
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when i saw my daughter at midnight, 2 saturdays ago, the relief flooded my body. then i reacted in horror when i saw her standing there with the police, due to her appearance. i don't need to write the details here. each time i have to tell a mental health professional on her case i become physically ill. i have been suffering extreme pain in my heart and soul, the other day i wanted to write a post about how it hurt to be awake. i thought it would sound too dramatic. i got through that day. and i am getting through the last 2 weeks by giving myself recipes to cook for dinner that take time and thought, where i find diversion and a short term reprieve from the thoughts of my daughter. my feelings have run from extremely painful guilt and blame, to anger over a system that failed her, and failed me. i rarely get sick with colds or flu, i have only been sick with pneumonia when someone dies. i've been sick this week. i have taken the days off from seeing my daughter and she knows what days i will be there. it's honestly a struggle to tell myself to remain home, take a walk, take care of your soul and spirit and body, because my daughter and the images i have of her haunt me like a nightmare in broad daylight. as time passes, and i see her at the hospital, i tell myself she is safe and ok. she is not missing or harmed.
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at the grocery store the other day
"did you find everything you needed?", the clerk asked.
i saw my hands in slow motion swiping my debit card through the machine. i think i answered the clerk's question.
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i keep thinking about one of two doctors who has taken my daughter's case this time. he said, "other people may have visitors, but you are like her heartbeat". i'm always haunted by wondering if she needs me, or needs something. i know she waits for me to arrive, and i know she needs to be able to survive without me.
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last night, i cooked penne pasta with a mushroom, butter, shrimp, parsley alfredo sauce. i'm a fairly good cook, to my demise at times, because i shouldn't be eating as much as i should be walking outdoors. i've made caesar salad, used a lot of fresh garlic pressed into everything, increased vitamin C intake and this morning made cinnamon rolls.
it is the images of her on gurneys, being walked into seclusion rooms, standing in the cold darkness of night after being missing for 7 hours and seeing her stand next to a car like mine--even the same color of car--that causes me grief, pain and sudden tears. i wonder, when i am at the grocery store, if anyone can feel the aura about me. am i just another person in the crowd buying dinner ingredients? i hope so.
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2 comments:
I understand what you mean about the guilt. I feel so guilty that I cannot have my son at home with me.
((HUGS)) Barbz, I understand. I know what you do, and that is the fierce love you have for your son. You're a good mother, and we are doing the best we can given dire circumstances that were never planned in our wildest imaginations. Take care of yourself.
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