A previous boss’s, boss’s, boss’s wife (I think higher up the chain than that) gave Steph this in a gift basket she helped coordinate when shit hit the fan over 6 months ago. Super crazy to think its already been that long. Really can’t wrap my head around that one. I was searching through pics on my phone to find this one, and ended up looking at ones that I really didn’t want to, and ended up in tears. Its from an incredibly hard beginning to an incredibly hard season of life.
I’m really the last person to want to admit I need help, and definitely the last to ask for it. Several months ago some of that help gave me a paper explaining the 5 stages of grief. I hate it when people preface things by saying “honestly”, because for me thats says everything else they say is a lie, so I simply say that I’m tired. I am, but I’m also sitting in the anger stage of grief. ANGER. Not just anger. And quite frankly, part of me wants to stay ANGRY. Angry at the world for moving on. Angry at God for everything Steph went through, from early in life, all the way until now. Angry that Steph got to hold Gretchen, and right now doesn’t remember it. Angry that she can’t remember her skin-to-skin time with Gretchen. One of the few things she desired more than anything else. Angry at God for taking away the one thing Steph wanted more than anything in the world. Angry at things I can’t even put a name to. I didn’t think I was, but in the last few weeks I’ve realized that I have way more anger than I realized, and I have to say that right now I’m content with being angry.
Maybe part of that is me not wanting to move on and make progress with dealing with what’s happened to Steph and I. I’m not really sure. I know I feel wronged on a lot of different fronts. Both work and personally. I also know there isn’t a lot I can do about it besides learn healthy coping mechanisms, and then its up to me whether I chose to use them, or ignore them. A lot of times I just want to ignore them. I think a lot of it has to do with me feeling that healing from this shit means that I’m forgetting about my baby girl. Whether that’s true or not, healthy or not, I don’t want to ever forget her.
My Godmother, Pat, sent Steph this card I don’t even remember how many weeks ago. We know that God has given Steph the strength to get through everything she’s gone through since September, but fuck….its been more than anyone should have to go through. I’m still so incredibly grateful that God didn’t take her away from me like Gretchen. I might always be bitter about that. and quite frankly I feel okay with that. I still feel weird around other people’s newborns, and part of me thought that would change when I finally held my own, but no. I don’t know if its an innocence thing, or me grasping at that which God tore away from me. Maybe part of this would be easier if I didn’t have my faith. Part of me wishes I didn’t, and part of me is glad I at least have someone/something to blame and get angry/furious at.
Yes. there are definitely still the fuck you gods and fuck you worlds. They may only be heard by me, but somehow they are helping me cope. One of my bosses was talking about taking care of ourselves last week, and I nearly walked out of that meeting. The only reason I didn’t was I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. It fucking hurt. I know I need to take care of myself, but nothing fucking matters more than taking care of my wife. Never once have I ever thought about walking away. I thank fucking god that work never made me choose between them or her, or more importantly them or unemployment. I have no idea how I would have gotten us through that kind of a decision. Yes, that did dawn on me while we were at Emory. I will never be able to repay my work for that.
I don’t know what else to say other than my wife can do fucking hard ass shit. The level of shit she’s had to go through in the last year far surpases anything I’ve ever attempted in my professional career. She’s far more badass than I could ever hope to be (to those who know, you know), and daily makes me work my ass of to ever hope to be just a sliver of as tough as she is.
‘Til next time…
Livin' The Schmidty Lyf 
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