Hide Your Crazy

Yesterday was one of those days when I wished I was not plowing through my grief and insisting on rejoining the world.  I had a hair appointment right after school and I was actually looking forward to getting a new ‘do and visiting with Drew while she worked her magic.  It had already been a slightly worse day than normal even though I couldn’t put my finger on a reason (it wasn’t a day or date that usually hurts more). 

Once Drew put on my new color and moved me to another chair to process, I began halfheartedly scrolling through Face.book to pass the time.  And then, I saw them.  Pictures of a newborn baby.  Eyes swollen shut, not yet in clothes, looking a lot like Levi did on the day of his birth.  Except, this baby was breathing and his mama was smiling.   This mama announced her pregnancy just four weeks after we announced ours.  I knew she was getting close to her due date, and I had planned to hide her updates in the near future.  But, I hadn’t gotten around to it and there she was holding a tiny baby boy so close to the size that mine had been.  I couldn’t catch my breath.  I immediately shut the app and willed myself to stop thinking about it.  I talked to myself about how much I had to do before I could crawl in the bed and cry myself to sleep.  I easily had an hour to go in the salon, and the place was packed.   My husband had a meeting with a potential client scheduled at our house for dinner and I had (in a moment of insanity) volunteered to cook.  I simply did not have time to have a meltdown.  So, I didn’t.  Yet.

When it came time to leave, I gathered up my purse and my bag of new hair goodies and went to get out my car keys. I dug all through my purse, but I couldn’t find them.  I took out my wallet and my phone and my day planner and still didn’t see them.  I decided pretty quickly that I had locked them in my car. (Mostly because I had in fact locked them in my car last week at the gym and Skip had had to come rescue me.)  I finally decided to go out and check my car.  Let me tell you, it’s never a good thing when you’re relieved that your keys are not in your car.  But that meant they were actually lost and that, in the moment, seemed worse.  I stalked back into the salon and announced to those who knew I was having trouble finding them (which was everybody in the place by then) that they were not in my car.  Drew searched her counter and I even went through her drawers.  The keys were NO WHERE.  I was inching closer to panic mode.  And by panic mode, I mean ugly cry, melt down, can’t hide your crazy mode.   A colleague of mine who was in the salon gingerly asked if I would like for her to go through my purse for me.  I was embarrassed to need that kind of help, but I was also desperate to find my keys, so I handed over my bag.  She immediately pulled my keys out of the FRONT POCKET of my purse.  We told everyone that they were found and I held it together and faked a laugh and hit the door as fast as I could.  I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.

I made it all the way to the car before the tears came. The whole time I was in the salon looking for my keys and getting help from strangers and that nice colleague, I knew they were all thinking, that’s the girl whose baby just died. I knew that before I even made myself look straight crazy, they were all feeling sorry for me.  I imagined that just after I pulled out of the parking lot, the few ladies that didn’t know were getting filled in on our sadness.  I could almost hear the other hairdressers telling how I had been in the shop just a few weeks before Levi’s death talking about my baby shower and counting down the days.  I hate to feel pitied and it happens just about everywhere I go these days. 

This is a part of the grieving process that Skip doesn’t really understand.  When I say things about people feeling sorry for me, he says they should feel sorry for me.  He reminds me that I feel sorry for me, so it’s okay for others to feel the same.  But, I still hate it.  I especially hate it because sometimes my grief makes me do things that make me look stupid and incompetent and those are two things I’ve never been before.  I’ve always been pretty sharp.  I’m quick-witted and fairly analytical and I can hold my own in most situations.  In that salon yesterday, I felt like a little kid. 

I know that the impact of those pictures had a lot to do with my inability to help myself in those moments, but those onlookers did not (nor would I want them to).  I wish others could understand a little bit better, and I am SO glad that they don’t.  I do not for a second begrudge my Face.book friend a healthy baby.  I wouldn’t wish this type of pain on my very worst enemy.  I just wish that other people’s happiness didn’t hurt me so much right now.