Changing my emergency contact.
On the grief this routine act ushered in.
Content Warning: quick mention of ideations.
I started with a new psych professional for med management last week. Friday night at eight, to be exact. I found this nurse practitioner online who had the soonest appointment available and offered “non-traditional hours” for appointment times. I was tempted to start the convo with “Ooh, Friday night at 8 feels so intimate, is this a date?” but I didn’t think it would be received well. During the intake portion of the session, he asked who I would like listed as my emergency contact.
This has been my dad’s spot for years simply because he has had the same phone number since I was a kid, and is the most likely to answer an unknown number at any time. He also does not play about me and will jump right into action. I once called him in the middle of the night, on a school night, over 300 miles away at college. I was a junior at Howard in Washington, DC, and losing my mind. I had been unable to sleep, up for hours, crying and wanting to die. I called him, knowing he’d have to be up at 4 am for work, not knowing what else to do.
“Daddy, I can’t sleep. I’m losing my mind. I want to die. I don’t want to live anymore.”
“Hamma, it’s okay. What’s wrong? Do you need me to come get you? Where are you?”
“No, don’t come get me, I’m at school. Can you just pray for me? I just need to sleep.”
“Okay, okay, rest yourself. says a prayer okay now go to sleep, mama, just close your eyes and go to sleep, and call me first thing in the morning when you wake up.”
Not being able to give my new psych my Dad’s name and number sent a wave of grief over me in that moment. Teary-eyed, I picked up my phone, searched for my sister’s name, and gave him her number. I shot her a quick text to let her know I was putting her down, in the event he’d need to call her. I make a mental note to update all the things he’s my emergency contact or beneficiary for.
Grieving someone who is still alive feels so conflicting and bittersweet. Yes, I am absolutely grateful that my father is still alive, breathing, speaking, of somewhat sound mind. Yes, AND, he is not and will not be the same again. I am grieving the father I’ve known for 33 years of my life. He is different. He will be different. And has a long road of recovery ahead. I just keep thinking about how young he is and how much more life he could have ahead of him. I don’t want him to spend it bound. I want to see him grow old and continue to spoil his children and grandchildren. I want to see him continue to learn about himself and grow as a person and a leader.
It’s been about a week now since I last visited my father in the rehab facility. Each day that passed, I said, “Okay, tomorrow I’ll go back.” Guilt crept up as I thought about the days going by without checking in on him or helping care for him. But I received external and internal reminders that I can’t pour from an empty cup. Depression is present right now, so existing is a bit more difficult and exhausting. Logistically, things are off to a rocky start, and I have so many big-girl decisions to make and things to do. And now I’m nursing germs I received from my five-year-old after a weekend of tending to hers.
I’ll go visit again when the germs are gone, so as not to make things more difficult for him. And hopefully some of the feels are gone too. And in the meantime, remember to update my emergency contacts, especially for my daughter’s sake.
Currently.
Book Progress — Just added this one for accountability. The first draft of my book proposal is due to my friend and writing coach by March 17th. I’m in the process of outlining the years I am writing about in order to complete that draft. I think I’m off to a great start this year.
Feeling — Sick and depressed, but okay. chuckle
Reading — Story Work: Field Notes on Self Discovery and Reclaiming Your Narrative x GG Renee Hill and listening to “That’s A Great Question, I’d Love To Tell You” x Elyse Meyers
Anticipating — Court tomorrow. Storytime on that later lol
Contemplating — If I’m going to do a grocery delivery order or not. Like, I think I have enough to make something shake and have dinner for the next day or two. But, there are also some essentials needed sooo…
Affirming — Things will fall into place.
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This is hard. I see you.
after my sister's TBI, I had to take her off my emergency contacts list, too. The grief associated with this is so intense, but it has no name. Sending you love - you are not alone