I have been very sad the last few days. This is not depression, but feelings which roll over me in big waves, leaving me a crying, sobbing mess, but feeling oddly better. And nearly anything will set me off.
Roxy, my Chihuahua, loves it. She lives to lick salty tears off my face. I, however, find it unpleasant to cry while wearing a nasal canula; I feel as if it is blowing snot back up my nose! (sorry, I know it's gross.) If I take the oxygen off too much when I'm crying, though, I get shortness of breath, which is also unpleasant.
I am mourning a lot of things. One is the way of living which will disappear the morning of July 11th, surgery day. I know too well I am crossing a threshold I cannot retreat back over. I'm looking at a life of the unknown, over which I will have no control, and with which I will have to cope. This is scary. I am choosing to have major surgery that will change my life. Have I mentioned recently that I have trouble with change?
Now, don't get me wrong. I have researched this surgery to the point of absurdity. I have read dozens and dozens of profile blogs on ObesityHelp.com. I have haunted message boards, gone to the local support group, followed Connie's saga in Thought Salad, and come to the conclusion that while one can be over prepared in some ways, one can never really be prepared for the reality of any big elective surgery like this.
Don't take this the wrong way, but I am very glad that Rene has is gone . She is very uncomfortable when I cry. She wants to fix things, make them better, and gets frustrated quickly when there is nothing she can do to "cure" me of my tears. So I self-edit when she's around, or go upstairs, or down to the river, or don't cry at all.
And I have found that, for me, a period of sadness feels healthy now and again. I am free to let the emotions come up from deep inside, collect like dark clouds on the horizon, roll through me like a storm-sometimes quiet, sometimes tumultuous- then pass on, leaving me spent, but cleansed, and free, until the next storm rolls in.
These storms appear over such little things as marmalade on toast-something I won't be able to eat post-surgery, as well as over big things like Sophie, my neighbor's beloved Rotty-mix dog, being diagnosed with bone cancer, and everything in between. Friends crazy busy? I cry. Weather too humid? I cry. Feeling house bound? I cry. Have to go out? I cry.
This all sounds very distressing, but I came from a family whose unwritten rule was "never show emotions." It took me years in therapy to let myself feel sad and cry, and tears still seem therapeutic to me(up to a point, of course. If I was crying and couldn't get out of bed, that would be another thing.)
And yet, despite this I also wish Rene were here to offer a little comfort (before she got mad at me for crying so much!) Human beings are such complex and contrary beings, aren't we? Sometimes I do make myself laugh, despite the tears.
I have planned some events for the weekend. Dinner out tomorrow with Peggy, a drive and lunch with my daughter Meg on Sunday, and then I better start house cleaning( a very small bit at a time) because Rene comes home on Thursday. By the time she recovers from jet lag, it will be surgery day, and then I will have much more concrete things to cry about-like nausea and pain!
Meanwhile, I'll try to accept the tears as an odd gift from the universe and enjoy the hard won freedom to feel joy as well as pain.