January 3, 2011 at 6:00 am | Posted in Heartbreak, Infertility | 10 Comments

Over the past few weeks, I have written this and deleted it, re-written it in draft form, and keep coming back to it. I know it’s the same old whinging, but I need to get this out.

I am cursed with a crap memory. As a kid, I lost homework and my coat and boots and lunchbox and lunch money.

Over the years I’ve learned to get around it by using something I *AM* good at – visualization.

If I lose my keys, most of the time all I need to do is imagine the last time I saw them. And sure enough, I’ll remember I left them on the seat of the car or in my fleece pocket or in the ignition of the car.

The problem is this ability to visualize things can overwhelm me sometimes.

Like when my cousin died. I went to the same high school she did. I knew the shortcut to the QuickCheck behind the school; knew exactly where she was when she pulled that trigger. And for YEARS, I visualized her with the gun in her mouth, against her temple. I could SEE it so clearly, her last moments as her best friend ran to get her guidance counselor. Where she was overwhelmed with wanting to escape so badly.

And every time I saw it, my heart would recoil from the image. I could never get past it; never intellectualize my grief, never combat it with some other image which made the whole thing okay.

So I just tucked her away into a dark corner of my brain. And I cut off ties with that part of the family, as if maybe not seeing them would make those images go away.

It never did. What happened was that eventually I was less afraid of the image, and the desire to see my godparents and forge a relationship with them overcame those images.

But they have never gone away.

At my aunt’s wake, I happened to come up to hug my aunt’s best friend as she was recounting that she was in the car on the day when Judy died. And I stood there, frozen, as she recounted the fact that in one moment, my aunt was laughing. How when her eyes first rolled back up into her head and she had no control over her motor skills, she didn’t quite understand what was happening. But how it was clear to her that my aunt’s foot was still on the gas pedal. How she had to grab the wheel and then move Judy’s leg off the accelerator to steer into the jersey barrier.

How my aunt was just gone, in that moment.

And just like Amy’s death, I can’t get past this image so that I can grieve and find acceptance. It literally stops me in my tracks, breathless. I see it just before I fall asleep at night. When I’m commuting to work. During a run.

And where it’s left me, this inability to move into a place of acceptance, is a Bad Place.

It’s a place of absolute impotent rage.

It’s like her death ripped off every wound I thought had healed.

The accumulation of everything; this last IVF cycle, my miscarriage, my cousin’s death, my aunt’s death, the failings of my marriage, the fact that I feel stuck in a career where I’m miserable, our infertility, the seven transfers with only one success to show for it…

I haven’t been this angry in years.

And I’m scared. That I’ll stay stuck in this place forever.

I have no idea how I’ll get past it.



RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

  1. Get in touch with me. I may be able to help you (and no, there’s no money involved!)

  2. I do that visualization too–my memory is like a sieve–and for many years I could not stop going over and over first my FIL’s death (it was a quick heart attack similar to your Aunts) and my Grammie’s slow death to cancer. I could not stop thinking and visualizing it, felt stuck in a rut. Time did help. Lessens the sharpness of the visuals and imaginings. But. I find it hard to think other thoughts about them without going to those dark places.

    Wish I had solutions for you, but really, letting it out is good, talking about it is good. And other than that–I guess time will help to heal again. ;-/


  3. Thinking about you. I hope you can find a way to move past this space.

  4. I am so sorry, for you to be stuck in that place, to have those images in your conscious place. I know how you feel..and I recoiled too, just reading it.

    Thinking of you…knowing you’ll get past it, I know it…but wishing it happens quickly.

    (did just writing about it help a little? )

  5. I was just thinking about repressed anger/rage this morning and how it seeps out in very insidious ways. It is something I have vowed to work on, and by work on, I mean tap into when I feel myself going there and try to determine what the triggers are and the “why” of how I’m feeling in those moments.

    I am sorry that you are feeling so angry however you are unlikely to stay in this place forever. And, while you may feel like your Aunt’s death has taken you back through old anger and dredged it up in fresh ways, just recognizing it and being able to articulate it means that you’ve come farther than you think.

    Keep working through it but honor it as well. It is there to teach you…

  6. I hate to be cliche, but – maybe therapy? This is an awful lot of stuff for you to be going through. I know blogging helps a lot, and I know it’s hard to find the time with full-time work and a small child (I am not one to talk, as I should probably be getting counseling myself). But you’re in such a tough place right now.

    Whatever works for you, I hope you are feeling better emotionally soon.

  7. Wow. My heart just breaks for you.

    I don’t know that the visualisation is necessarily a bad thing in and of itself, but certainly the way you are getting caught in the loop is no good.

    And it’s funny how one grief will bring all grief to the surface, as if renewed.

    I just don’t know what to say. I hope you find a way to move forward to a more peaceful place.


  8. I think you need to find a safe place for you to feel all the emotions of your aunt’s death and all the things that have happened in this past year and whatever else those emotions bring up. Maybe that means a therapist’s office, maybe it means blogging about it or maybe it means something else. But, I think this anger is a part of your grieving which will lead you eventually to some kind of acceptance and it’s important to give voice to it.

  9. You’ve had so much heartbreak in such a short period of time. How could you *not* be angry? I truly believe you will get yourself un-stuck. I hope getting these feelings out in one or more forms helps your heart to begin that healing process.

  10. I agree with those who have suggested therapy … for me, visualization is like getting a song stuck in my head; if I hear a song part way through, I can’t get it out. If I can follow the song to the end, I can move on. It’s not surprising to me that you feel this way right now … you were dealt a really crappy hand in 2010. But you can unstick yourself, too … as much as that may be painful, too.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Blog at
Entries and comments feeds.

%d bloggers like this: