I'm Just Numb, This Isn't Happening., Going the wrong way on the grief cycle. Options

[Jaedon]

I felt like, when I made the decision to let Stella go.. my beautiful daughter, best friend, sole mate of a beagle, I had made my peace. It was the right thing to do for her, I OWED her that. She was only seven, and after fighting leptospirosis and kidney failure for two years, she had just given up. I cried for two weeks before I made the decision. I went through denial, then I was angry, then I could do nothing but cry, but then this sort of calm came over me, because I kept repeating the mantra, "It's not about me anymore, it's about her." And doing that, I could set myself aside and see how horrible she felt, how she herself was ready, and I knew what I had to do for her. But the procedure was horrible. It was horrible and I can't get the images out of my head. Afterward I felt dead, just as gone as she was. As if with her departure she took my soul. And since then I feel like a zombie, except for the times when I feel sick. I feel like I can't accept that she's gone. No matter what, I feel like she's just at the hospital again for treatment, and I'll see her in a few days. I can't fight through this fog, and I'm not sure I want to. For a long time, she was all I had-- my only friend, sometimes the only family speaking to me... she was everything. And now my instinct is that I have nothing. I'm hollow. I don't even know what "I" is anymore. I can't imagine life without her. Anyway, this is my first post, pretty much ever, online. I don't usually think people should be bothered with my worries, having enough of their own. But... I just don't know what to do. Any feedback would help me feel like I'm not so alone. This has been very stream-of-consciousness, so I'm sorry if it doesn't make the most sense.

[Mink&WillowsMom]

I hated that fresh, "I can still feel him!" stage. The disbelief was so intense. As if I could think hard enough, or do just the right thing, I could have him back again. Like there was a logic or magic key just out of my grasp. On the other hand, I didn't want it to fade, because then I knew I would lose precious details about my baby. So I wrote down everything endearing about him, from his stinky little cat breath, to his missing tooth, to his double "hi-hi" greeting, to the weird way he used to nurse on his brother's fur, to the lovely game of hide 'n seek we'd play when I made the bed. When I've stumbled across those pages in my journal much later, they brought incredible joy = it was like they brought me fresh back to him, like you are now, but without the pain. I had indeed forgotten some of the details, so it was a gift to have them written down. Add more, to what you're already writing, in a place you can find later.

By the way, I just learned something recently. Many folks here refer to the "stages" of grieving, alluding to those outlined by Dr. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross years ago. Keep in mind, those stages were observed in people who were themselves dying. Dr. K-R never meant this was the same process for those left behind, which brings a whole tangled web of other issues to the table. So don't question whether you're grieving "in the right steps" or "backwards." There is no backwards. There is no right way. It's just getting through it. And, having experienced 4 cat deaths and 3 human deaths in the last dozen years, no two griefs are the same. Each was so different from the other. The getting-through is just getting through it.

My deepest condolences over your lovely Stella. I love the games you described with her, sounds like so much fun. ~Kimberly