2010

I am 40 years old. I have been married for 15 years. I have an 11 year old child. And I have been scared to death, actually scared by death. I had hoped by now that I would "be over it" to a point. But that one day has changed me forever. In some ways the changes are better for me. I do not sweat the small stuff any more, if anything it has become amusing. I appreciate living in the moment, trying new things, having more fun, taking care of myself. I am more independent than I was and I can handle just about anything.
The irony of all that is that I am living with a constant underlying fear that brews upward every now and again and spews into a good day, turning it into a bad one. My anxiety attacks have lessened but when they happen it takes the good out of me. I have been known to cry in the shower or bathtub. I am not sure why I do it there, maybe my body knows I am alone, away from witnesses and I can sob without pity, judgement or even a good old fashioned hug. Now I know I need that hug but when I am crying in the bathtub, hard enough to hurt my chest and back, I just want to be alone. I feel alone. I do not have someone close by geographically who lives in fear each day that their spouse is going to die any minute and will be left alone, young, in this world to raise their child alone. I am not sure if I would feel differently if Jacob was grown up and had his own family but I am so worried about him losing Jason, losing his Dad. That day the doc told me Jason was brain dead Jacob was the only thing in my mind. What am I going to tell him? How? How is he going to live without his Dad? I knew he would not be the first child who had to do this but now he was joining those ranks. That feeling has not left me.
I am grateful this is our second Christmas since the heart attack. But I have to be honest I have grieved over losing Jason again this week. I do that from time to time. The odd thing is that Jason has recovered so much of his memory, is doing the best he's ever done, he is still improving every day and yet I am still grieving. There are good days and bad days and on the bad days I am tired. Tired of watching what he eats, drinks, how much he exercises, what he lifts, if he took his pills, doc appts, writing everything down. I am proud to do it, I am happy to do it. But it is tiring. I of course would rather be doing this than the other option.
The other night Jason expressed his gratefulness for everything I have done in a way that was so heart warming and loving, I was touched. Our communication that we shared before all this happened is being revived and nothing could make me happier right now. But as it begins to wake up it is also a reminder of what it hasn't been in the past year and a half. I missed him and he was right in front of me. Living with that has been hard but celebrating all of that coming back has been a joy. I know I am blathering on and yammering and not really making any sense but if I expel all of this out of my head I end up feeling better, relieved by unloading to my shrinks out there. That's you by the way.
2009 was better than the last half of 2008. The beginning of 2010 leaves me hopeful. I am not sure whats in store but I look forward to doing it with Jason and Jacob and I know that's all that matters. More good days than bad days is my goal. I hope the same for you.