VNS and Stuff

As part of having the Vagus Nerve Stimulator (VNS) implanted, I am being followed for five years (until 2012) by Columbia University so they can chart my progress. Or lack thereof (my opinion, not theirs).

Today was an update day and it was rough. They are always rough. The woman from CU is awesome and I do not mind talking to her at all. It's the questions she needs to ask that are difficult to answer -- and they are always the same questions. Many times I have thought about being dishonest and telling her that everything is just fine in my little universe, but I know that doing so is hurting not only myself, but other people who may turn to this device as a last resort like I did.

I knew this update would be rough so I dodged her calls for the last few weeks because I just was not ready to let that wall down again and let her come in. See, nobody else -- with the exception of my psychiatrist -- asks me questions like "have you felt suicidal?" or "how would you rate the quality of your life?".

Every time she asks me the first question in particular, my first thought is always to tell her "no, I haven't felt suicidal in the last week".

But the truth is, I feel suicidal every single day. I just want to fall asleep and never wake up. Today I explained that to her and that I just wanted the noise in my head to stop, the guilt, the grief, the anguish...just to STOP all of it. The dichotomy is that I function. Very well, in fact. I wake up every morning, put two feet on the floor and shift into auto-pilot. Is this what living your life is supposed to be like?!?

In answer to her second question, about the quality of my life, I always tell her it's good. Because it really is. I have great kids, the most amazing husband, and I'm finally making a life-long career dream come true. What's not good about all of that? Why then do I always question myself, trying to figure out what I'm missing or figure out what I'm doing wrong? Do other people feel this way? Certainly I am not the only person...?

Most of the time I feel like I'm a fraud. On the exterior I'm vibrant, personable, friendly, intelligent, funny, engaging, approachable, helpful...and on the inside I am colorless and lifeless.

If I could hide in the shadows -- and stay there -- in a heartbeat, I would. Lately I envision myself walking into the shadows, and feeling peace as the cloak envelopes me completely...instead, I am barely walking a tightrope across the Grand Canyon. And letting myself fall into the depths is becoming more and more appealing...take me...

Happy Birthday, Alexander...

I have been so overwhelmed with grief this past week that I have been frightened of sitting down to pour out all the emotions I am drowning in. I am not frightened of the emotions themselves, but rather of my physical reaction in looking at them straight on. I am so deluged with emotions and the astonishing power behind them that I am firmly rooted in this place – trying to determine which is worse; yielding to them, or continuing to squash them down until I finally suffocate.

Sorrow appears to be the emotion I feel most often. Sometimes I think I understand it and other times I can only shake my head in confusion.

I realize that losing someone you love is devastating, but the shadows that follow you around and blanket your heart forever after can be equally, if not worse. Occasionally we are forewarned – by illness or age – and see the loss coming. Other times it comes at us like a stealth fighter jet and we haven’t the opportunity to react and get the hell out of the way before it decimates us. The infinite questions that follow that type of annihilation will forever remain unanswered.

Even now, 13 years after Alexander’s birth and death, I think about all of the “would-a, could-a, should-as”. The “if only-s” drive me crazy, too.

Somebody told me once that I am living my present life too much in my past. For awhile, that bothered me because I didn’t understand what that meant. (I still don’t, really.) Then I realized that if feeling emotions infinitely deeper than some people means I’m living too much in my past, then there is very little I can do. I am an intensely passionate person and when I love someone, it is with every iota of my being. Oddly enough, I don’t wear my ardor on the outside of my body so it is very often missed – or misread.

The day Alexander was born was an extraordinarily beautiful fall day. The sky was an exceptionally intense blue. The sun was high and not a cloud stood in its way. The fall colors came early that year, too, so the road home from where my son lay was surrounded by multicolored foliage. Even now it doesn’t make sense to me how I endured the worst loss of my life that day, but the world continued to turn.

Please, stop the world and let me step off…I surrender...