Post Number 59 - What Grief Can Do

Literally thirty minutes after my last post, after feeling so smug and smart with myself, I received a phone call.  It was the police and they called to advise that they had recovered my car!  In shock, I asked where it was, only to be told, "at Glenelg, a street up further from where you stated you parked it!" WHAT??  That can't be.  I jumped in the hire car and raced down there.  The policeman was very nice and told me not to worry and that it has happened to many people.

As I drove, I recollected that evening.  I wasn't rushing and was feeling quite relaxed after a Reiki session that I had had that morning.  I racked my brain about everything I did, what streets I drove down, how quiet Glenelg was on that Monday night and how smug I felt about parking in a "free" car park so close to the Hotel.  But my car was parked quite a ways from the hotel.  No broken glass, no damage at all to the car.  Parking tickets on the window only 5 days old, yet it had supposedly been there for 23 days! Did I really park it here and just forget?  It doesn't sit right with me.  I remember parking in a two car park and yet it was now standing in a three car park, sandwiched between two other cars.  I remember looking for car parking signs to ensure I didn't have to buy a ticket, none seen on the night, yet now there was a 2 hour parking sign right next to the car.  I remember looking up and seeing the hotel and noticing how close I was, yet from this car park, the hotel view was blocked by other buildings.  Absolutely nothing made sense to me.  I thought seeing the car would jolt my memory and I would embarrassingly say "oh no, yes I remember now, I did park here not over there", but no such memory emerged.  Instead, I burst in to tears and blurted out to the police officer, " I didn't park it here, I didn't park it here".  "It's ok", the police officer kept saying.  "The car is in perfect order, no damage has been done and I have already contacted the council and you don't have to pay the parking tickets."

I inspected the car, looked inside the windows as my keys had been posted to the insurance company, so I was unable to open it up.  Everything inside looked as it should be.  The blanket folded neatly on the back seat, my sunglasses in the centre console, Sebastian's booster seat in the back.  "How could this of happened?", I kept asking myself.  "Have I truly lost my mind?" How could I face the world and tell them that the car had not been taken at all? Could I have lost part of my memory of that night?

I know the brain can do funny things.  People will often say that they forget where they put their keys or often forget which floor of the carpark they left their car.  I understand that feeling, of course, we have all done it.  But this is very different, as I truly feel that I can remember, yet, supposedly, I can't. Is it possible that I remember some things but have lost a part of my memory,  the part where I walked three times the distance than I thought I did?  That I remember walking up the street and noticing the houses and thinking this is where I parked rather than where I walked? It's giving me a headache, trying to figure it all out.

The three people who already know about this situation (excluding those I live with) have told me to not be hard on myself and that I should be happy that the car is back and not damaged, and that I hadn't yet signed up on another car, although I was literally days away of doing that.  The whole insurance payout was halted, hours before a money transfer. 

I'm not angry with myself.  I'm not saying to myself, "you stupid woman, what's wrong with you", but rather, "what happened? are you really sure? could you have? if so, what is happening to you?" I'm scarred.  Really scarred.  If I really parked there, and the evidence says I did, then what is happening to my brain?  Can I ever truly trust myself again? No wonder I have trouble studying for exams. It's not that I don't know the information, it's just that I can't remember it all.  My brain just doesn't seem to have the capacity. 

I know what you're thinking.  "Oh poor thing, she has been through so much and is under so much stress, it could happen to anyone".  I agree. But I still don't buy it.  I know grief effects the body physiology, that is a fact.  I also know that prolonged stress has major implications to the physiology on the body, also a fact.  Which is exactly why I had attended to these things with diet, Reiki and Chinese Acupressure, to counteract the effects of prolonged stress, and yet, here I am, writing this ridiculous story, in an attempt to give you some understanding of how grief changes you as a person.  It's not about feeling sad for your loss, it's not about depression, it's not about trying to forget what you have lost, and it's not about time will heal, even though those things can and do play a part. 

As you know, I am quite a capable person.  Sometimes I boast about it a little too much and I have been wondering why I do that.  Am I seeking approval, a pat on the back perhaps? Maybe. But maybe I was also trying to tell myself, by telling the world, that I am okay, when actually, the truth is, I'm not. I'm not okay.  I'm surviving, but that's not life.  I'm trying to be strong and a good role model for Sebastian, when really, I just want to crawl in a hole and die.  I want to create a lovely afternoon tea for my Mother's 90th birthday, but all she does is fight me on everything.  No matter what I do, it's no good, too much, too far, too expensive.  I have done nothing but scream at her for days.  And by scream, I mean scream so hard I strain my vocal cords.  Today I resorted to stamping my feet and jumping up and down, to try to get her to understand something.  She doesn't listen, won't listen, can't hear and won't bend.   Yesterday, I had a feeling that I burst a blood vessel in my brain.  I know we joke about it sometimes, but I actually had a physical feeling of something go pop! I think my whole body will go "pop" or "boom", just like in one of Sebastian's Treehouse Story books, where people's head blow off, but they just pick them up and pop them back on again and all is well!

I should be studying for an exam that I have this afternoon.  A practical exam where I show my skills at questioning a patient and recording their information.  I have practiced this many times and I was feeling confident.  But now I can't seem to get it together.  Maybe after getting all this off my chest and crying yet another river, I may be able to pull myself together and fake it for this afternoon.  Maybe going to Mt Gambier for the weekend will give me some much needed relief or maybe it will exacerbate it? I really don't know.  I really truly don't know.