October 27, 2010 at 11:22 pm | Posted in Grief | 5 Comments

As I mentioned in this post I am not able to explain what happened with Jake without interrupting myself.  So as I left off here with life in 2005, I had gone back to work.

I would wake up every day and get dressed for work.   It would occur to me that I was extremely sleep deprived just like any other new mother.  Unfortunately, I was a new mother without a baby.   My sleep deprivation was completely self-induced.   Along with being tired I now seemed to have trouble concentrating.   Simple tasks would take me forever to complete (most likely because I forgot I was doing them or I fell asleep).  

I noticed that I looked at people differently.   Before Jake, I used to just pass people in the hall or on the street.   Now I thought about what was going on in their lives.   What were they thinking as they walked?  Had they ever lost a loved one?  Did they ever feel like the world was coming to an end?    How was it possible that they were smiling when Jake (and now Sawyer) are dead?  

My body felt different.   My arms ached.   I did not think it was possible for my arms to hurt so much.   In fact, I had never thought about my arms too much.   Now I could not stop thinking about how empty my arms were.   All I wanted to do was hold Jake.

I would drive to work, teach my classes and go home.   Rarely, did I make it through a day without crying.   Surprisingly I was able to hold it together till I got back in my car.   Note:   If you worked with me during this time period and you did see me cry in the office, feel free to correct me.   Another symptom of grief is being unable to remember.  

I was going through the motions of the day and life.  I was on autopilot.  

My project came to an end in December.   I thought that waiting a little while before starting another project might be good.  I could try to get out of autopilot.   I could mourn Jake and try to put my life back together.   This turned out to be one of my worst ideas ever.


RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

  1. Even on autopilot, you are still an amazing, wonderful person. Don’t forget that Lanie. xo

  2. You are so strong. I love you.

  3. You are much stronger than you ever give yourself credit for!

  4. My dear friend, what a journey you have had. Please know how many of us think of you and send our love as you continue on your journey of healing.

  5. Lanie,
    How right you are about grief. I too find myself doing things then forgetting that I did them. I find myself confused many times throughout the day. Yes, we go on autopilot. Slowly, slowly, my fog is lifting. I think that in a way, the shock of the loss protects us from feeling too much all at once. But feel we must.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at
Entries and comments feeds.

%d bloggers like this: