The Only Drawback to San Francisco Is That Its Hard To Leave
Me @ the Point Arena Lighthouse.
We just got back from spending close to two weeks in San Francisco--staying with our friends Mark and Kathleen, and my sister Gabi and Amanda, visiting with my friend Liz and generally enjoying life.
I feel so relaxed that even the 85 degree humid Brooklyn air doesn't phaze me.
Its going to take me a while to unpack, fix photos, and process all I experienced and learned while we were on the Left Coast but in the meantime I wanted to air some truths I stumbled across.
I've been telling everyone--and blogging--since the week after the miscarriage that I was okay. That everything was fine and I wasn't going to dwell on the negative. I was just going to pick myself up and move on.
Tra-la-la-la-la.
God. What a fucking lie.
I've been a mess for three months straight. I fell into an unrelenting negative thought pattern--a rut. A state of such deep depression even I couldn't really see it or what it was doing to my family--by which I mean Rod.
I stopped calling or emailing my friends. I stopped blogging. I stopped going out. And the whole while I kept repeating to myself, to Rod, to anyone who happened to ask, "Oh no. I'm happy! So happy! I mean, I'm alive and nothing all that bad happened to me and at least I know can GET pregnant, I mean that's good, right?" (And this despite Rod's wide-eyed exclamation: Huh? You are so NOT fine.") And the crying? A fluke! Something in my eye!
I don't know what it was. Certainly the hormonal fallout--plummeting hcg levels then rushes of estrogen, progesterone, lutenizing hormone.
But there was also the sense of failure. My body had failed: hadn't managed to hold onto something that was so precious to me. I was angry at it: and in the weeks following the miscarriage I punished it by dieting and exercising as much as I could. You are worthless, I told it.
These two weeks in SF, though, I took it easy. I slept. I ate. I walked slowly. (I hiked too, but I didn't drive myself the way I normally do...)
Sometimes all it takes is the slightest nudge to shift everything back into perspective.
It wasn't my body's fault that pregnancy ended. In fact, the entire concept of fault missed the point. You plant ten seeds in the garden and only a fraction of them will make it to seedlings; even fewer to full fledged plants. There's no meaning; no fault. It just is.
So I return to Brooklyn more at ease. Less haunted.
Not that I'm completely back to my normal self. But at least now I can see how much work I need to do and how far I'd sunk. The cure? Healthy eating. Appropriate exercise. Constant social contact. A lot of forgiveness. And the joy of summer blossoming before me.
Me @ the Point Arena Lighthouse.
We just got back from spending close to two weeks in San Francisco--staying with our friends Mark and Kathleen, and my sister Gabi and Amanda, visiting with my friend Liz and generally enjoying life.
I feel so relaxed that even the 85 degree humid Brooklyn air doesn't phaze me.
Its going to take me a while to unpack, fix photos, and process all I experienced and learned while we were on the Left Coast but in the meantime I wanted to air some truths I stumbled across.
I've been telling everyone--and blogging--since the week after the miscarriage that I was okay. That everything was fine and I wasn't going to dwell on the negative. I was just going to pick myself up and move on.
Tra-la-la-la-la.
God. What a fucking lie.
I've been a mess for three months straight. I fell into an unrelenting negative thought pattern--a rut. A state of such deep depression even I couldn't really see it or what it was doing to my family--by which I mean Rod.
I stopped calling or emailing my friends. I stopped blogging. I stopped going out. And the whole while I kept repeating to myself, to Rod, to anyone who happened to ask, "Oh no. I'm happy! So happy! I mean, I'm alive and nothing all that bad happened to me and at least I know can GET pregnant, I mean that's good, right?" (And this despite Rod's wide-eyed exclamation: Huh? You are so NOT fine.") And the crying? A fluke! Something in my eye!
I don't know what it was. Certainly the hormonal fallout--plummeting hcg levels then rushes of estrogen, progesterone, lutenizing hormone.
But there was also the sense of failure. My body had failed: hadn't managed to hold onto something that was so precious to me. I was angry at it: and in the weeks following the miscarriage I punished it by dieting and exercising as much as I could. You are worthless, I told it.
These two weeks in SF, though, I took it easy. I slept. I ate. I walked slowly. (I hiked too, but I didn't drive myself the way I normally do...)
Sometimes all it takes is the slightest nudge to shift everything back into perspective.
It wasn't my body's fault that pregnancy ended. In fact, the entire concept of fault missed the point. You plant ten seeds in the garden and only a fraction of them will make it to seedlings; even fewer to full fledged plants. There's no meaning; no fault. It just is.
So I return to Brooklyn more at ease. Less haunted.
Not that I'm completely back to my normal self. But at least now I can see how much work I need to do and how far I'd sunk. The cure? Healthy eating. Appropriate exercise. Constant social contact. A lot of forgiveness. And the joy of summer blossoming before me.
Labels: miscarriage, point arena ca, point arena lighthouse, pregnancy loss, san francisco ca
posted by Minerva Jane at
4:04 PM
3 Comments:
you might find a lot in common with Alice of www.finslippy.com
she recently miscarried. Her post made me very sad, and she is processing a lot of grief right now. Maybe her experience will help you deal with yours.
My God(ess), I am blown away by the honesty in your post! Every sentence rings so true. It takes a hell of a lot of courage to face yourself and your true feelings. And as a woman, I find it especially hard to admit to the outside world when things are not "fine". Withdrawing is natural, but with that comes the guilt.
Battling yourself internally and putting on a brave face for everyone else creates a kind of exhaustion that just festers and builds (I know that it does with me), and ultimately it ends up hurting you and those close to you (who, as you say, are NEVER fooled for a second).
I am so glad that being out here was good for you. I loved the time that we spent together and just talking to you helped me so much. You are such an amazing person. Thank you for including me in your post! Big big big hugs!
i'm so glad you're returning to yourself. i've missed your words (sorry it's taken me so long to come by... i've been out of the loop, too)
i hope your perspective stays clear and that you allow yourself to mourn sometimes. it's okay to be heartbroken and angry. but i'm also glad you're seeing joy again, too. i hope that continues :)
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