Well, the Towncar picked Gary up less than a day and a half ago and I am loosing it. Luckily, he will be home on Saturday instead of a week from Saturday since everyone in London was going to be gone for some reason. Good for me ... bad for Gary. He will need to work basically 2 weeks in London one week off until Thanksgiving after this small jaunt.
Last night I had my most recurring dream - never pleasant, but mostly exhausting. I dream that Jessie, or Ryan or both (mainly Jessie ... like last night) are in a house crying. A big house - 3 stories, a basement and an attic, don't really have an idea of how many rooms. I hear her over the intercom but I don't know where she is, so I start running from door to door. The hallways get longer, the stairs get steeper, I never find her, but when I wake up, in a full sweat: I am so grateful that I am not running and not so scared anymore.
Then I drift off to sleep and it starts all over again. In my dreams, the house changes, in my head I know that the floor plan is now new and I have to start searching the house all over again. I have had this dream for 20 years and years ago I got savvy in my dreams, realized that this was not fair - so I always scream this into the heavens (I'm never very nice about it not being fair that the house changed) and Gary has never mentioned that I am screaming in my sleep - so everything is nice an neatly contained in this strange thing inside my scull. I do this over and over again until I get up and stop the cycle by just staying awake or until the magic of 'morning light' hits my face and I am up for the day. But generally there is an epiphany waiting while I am laying there exhausted.
Last night? I was stupid and did not get up - I was tired and for some reason the little 'post it' in my head that tells me that I would get more rest awake than I would asleep running full speed screaming in strange houses was not on the bulletin board, so forgot. I woke up and morning was here ... and 4 words played over and over in my head: "What have I done?".
This always plays out better when Gary is here, but with him in London, I can talk to him, not like if he is off camping with the scouts and no: 'super cell phone I can get him anywhere in the world ...so far' with him. So I have that, will talk to him in a few hours, after he has dinner and the darkness swirling in my stomach and head will let up a bit, the panic will probably stay. But, what have I done?
This morning, I was thinking of a procedure when Jessie had just been born. She was still at St. Benedict's in Ogden, so before she was airlifted to Primary Children's in renal failure. They were going to do a spinal tap and told me I needed to leave the room. I asked them why? They told me that was just the way it was, and I figured it out. They did not want me in there, because they did not want me to see what they were going to do to my baby. I promised them I would stand with my back touching the wall and not say a word, but if they made me leave I would imagine something much worse that they were doing to my baby. He let me stay !? I guess because they knew Craig I was 'given a break', as I kept my promise and watched, quietly, tears running down my face. I realized that I was out of my league in terms of horrible things they could do to my baby - got better over the years - now I have a whole library - but that was the first time, the time I realized that there were some things that moms just shouldn't see - but me? I WANT TO SEE THEM. I need to see them. I NEED to know what is happening to my daughter.
And now I am in the same situation, but they politely escorted me out of the door and said to call any time and they would let me know how she was doing. They say she is doing fine, but do I believe that? No, they would say that no matter if she was begging to come home every ten minutes. The problem is ... I need to know she is still asking to come home so I can help her, but I have no information - just good news and I am suspicious. I need them to stop telling me what I want to hear and be honest. She stopped calling. Has she given up, or are they just not dialing the number any more? How am I supposed to know? She can't tell me. Which scenario is more pitiful? I really don't know.
Yeah, I am in trouble here, but it will pass. There is a small part of my brain that is still logical that is whispering that this 'Jessie panic attack' will pass, the bear will stop chasing me, the feeling that I have done something horribly wrong will go away and one of these nights, when I dare let myself fall asleep ... I will get some sleep.
But, I'm waiting for Gary to get home before I even think of going to bed again.
And I KNOW that's nuts.
Last night I had my most recurring dream - never pleasant, but mostly exhausting. I dream that Jessie, or Ryan or both (mainly Jessie ... like last night) are in a house crying. A big house - 3 stories, a basement and an attic, don't really have an idea of how many rooms. I hear her over the intercom but I don't know where she is, so I start running from door to door. The hallways get longer, the stairs get steeper, I never find her, but when I wake up, in a full sweat: I am so grateful that I am not running and not so scared anymore.
Then I drift off to sleep and it starts all over again. In my dreams, the house changes, in my head I know that the floor plan is now new and I have to start searching the house all over again. I have had this dream for 20 years and years ago I got savvy in my dreams, realized that this was not fair - so I always scream this into the heavens (I'm never very nice about it not being fair that the house changed) and Gary has never mentioned that I am screaming in my sleep - so everything is nice an neatly contained in this strange thing inside my scull. I do this over and over again until I get up and stop the cycle by just staying awake or until the magic of 'morning light' hits my face and I am up for the day. But generally there is an epiphany waiting while I am laying there exhausted.
Last night? I was stupid and did not get up - I was tired and for some reason the little 'post it' in my head that tells me that I would get more rest awake than I would asleep running full speed screaming in strange houses was not on the bulletin board, so forgot. I woke up and morning was here ... and 4 words played over and over in my head: "What have I done?".
This always plays out better when Gary is here, but with him in London, I can talk to him, not like if he is off camping with the scouts and no: 'super cell phone I can get him anywhere in the world ...so far' with him. So I have that, will talk to him in a few hours, after he has dinner and the darkness swirling in my stomach and head will let up a bit, the panic will probably stay. But, what have I done?
This morning, I was thinking of a procedure when Jessie had just been born. She was still at St. Benedict's in Ogden, so before she was airlifted to Primary Children's in renal failure. They were going to do a spinal tap and told me I needed to leave the room. I asked them why? They told me that was just the way it was, and I figured it out. They did not want me in there, because they did not want me to see what they were going to do to my baby. I promised them I would stand with my back touching the wall and not say a word, but if they made me leave I would imagine something much worse that they were doing to my baby. He let me stay !? I guess because they knew Craig I was 'given a break', as I kept my promise and watched, quietly, tears running down my face. I realized that I was out of my league in terms of horrible things they could do to my baby - got better over the years - now I have a whole library - but that was the first time, the time I realized that there were some things that moms just shouldn't see - but me? I WANT TO SEE THEM. I need to see them. I NEED to know what is happening to my daughter.
And now I am in the same situation, but they politely escorted me out of the door and said to call any time and they would let me know how she was doing. They say she is doing fine, but do I believe that? No, they would say that no matter if she was begging to come home every ten minutes. The problem is ... I need to know she is still asking to come home so I can help her, but I have no information - just good news and I am suspicious. I need them to stop telling me what I want to hear and be honest. She stopped calling. Has she given up, or are they just not dialing the number any more? How am I supposed to know? She can't tell me. Which scenario is more pitiful? I really don't know.
Yeah, I am in trouble here, but it will pass. There is a small part of my brain that is still logical that is whispering that this 'Jessie panic attack' will pass, the bear will stop chasing me, the feeling that I have done something horribly wrong will go away and one of these nights, when I dare let myself fall asleep ... I will get some sleep.
But, I'm waiting for Gary to get home before I even think of going to bed again.
And I KNOW that's nuts.
