Where do I start when I have so many feelings? Where should the thoughts go and where should they end? I have no idea and so I'm just going to write as things come to me.
The hardest thing for me to accept right now is my lack of guilt. From what I've heard so many other mothers say, they'd gladly give their lives for their children. If I had been given a choice, perhaps I would have done the same. I feel as though I should have been the one to die instead of my son. I feel as though I should carry enormous guilt for surviving. The truth is that I do not feel guilty for being alive. My lack of guilt makes me wonder if my ability to feel is impaired or if perhaps there is something morally wrong with me. I suppose time will tell.
I can tell that anger is going to be an issue for me as well. It's already crystallizing against the "pro-life" people who, in fact, care nothing for life and seek only to exploit women in order to gain money and votes. Note that I'm not talking about people who genuinely care about women and children (born and unborn). I'm talking about the predators who lie and obstruct as much as they can to keep the problems going. These are the people who have no interest in solutions because they profit too much from the problem. I've always felt anger against them for their dishonesty and the harm they do. Now that anger is blazing and focused.
I've had more people praying for me in the past week than probably in the rest of my life combined. People I haven't talked to in years have popped up on Facebook with all sorts of well-wishing and prayers. I don't mind really. I feel rather insulated from all that. I'm actually glad that they confine themselves to such because I really don't feel like talking to anyone just yet. What is there to say, after all? I can recite the boring details of my days, my meds, etc. Who cares? And what is anyone going to say that can penetrate my heart? There's only one person who has access to that for now. I am so much like my father, especially in difficult times like these. I shut myself off - I appear like stone to the outside world. The longer I maintain that facade, the more likely I end up triggering a bipolar episode. I don't plan to do that this time but the more I have to talk to people, the more likely it will be. I just don't relate to most people and so I keep falling back on programmed responses. This tires me greatly. Just thinking about it now makes me tired.
I wonder if I'm supposed to have some sort of spiritual awakening now. Isn't that the way it works for some people? They go through a tragedy or have a near-death experience and then they "find God?" The entire time I was unconscious and dying, I did not see anything or anybody. I felt nothing. If death truly is the great nothing that I experienced, then I cannot possibly fear it. My family, being Baptists, believe that my son is automatically in heaven and that we will see him there when we die because we are all "saved." My future father-in-law believes that my son may be resurrected to live on the paradise earth and that if we would devote ourselves to his religion, then we might be resurrected as well. I don't argue with any of them - what's the point? I am not saved by either definition and likely will never be as long as my reason is intact. I have the horrible job of accepting the fact that my son is gone and there will never be a time or a place in which we will be reunited. I have no myths, no prayers, no hope to comfort me. There is only brutal reality, the harsh unfairness of life and death. Where does an atheist find comfort and hope? That's something I hope to explore here in the days to come. Until then, I am simply carrying on.....