I feel like a social wreck. I'm just not normal anymore, small talk escapes me in every way. People will try to talk to me and I pause alot, I swear I get confused more easily now, and I know I sound vague and disinterested. I think this could be the reason why I continue to have no friends, almost 9 months after Henry's death. I dont know how to break this cycle, I dont know how to come back to the land of the living. I feel like I just float around in this bubble, and when someone comes up to me, knocks on the bubble and trys to shout at me, I just can't hear them very well, there's so much static related to my grief, guilt, and longing, I just can't hear the world anymore. How do I come back to myself, to my life? I wish I knew.

I'll hang out with you. We can stare off into space and forget to drink our coffee until it is ice cold.

I am not very good about being sociable either. Which is odd because I'm a huge extrovert. When I do go near other people I feel like everything I say is stupid and pointless. I don't necessarily want to blather on about my dead baby, but talking about anything else seems so fake. Because I honestly don't care. And I don't have the energy to pretend I do. Small talk doesn't fit anymore and rings so very false. I have officially now left a party in tears. I do most of my "talking" via Facebook, because there people can't see you roll your eyes at their trivialities, or wander off mid conversation, or cry and cry and cry because someone else just had a baby.

I feel like this too and I've always been a huge extrovert. I struggle to concentrate on conversations (especially in groups) and often say something and then think to myself - 'Is that a normal thing to say?'. It's like I've forgotten how to do it.

No advice sorry, just I know, and I hope it does come back one day for all of us.

Maddie x

I find I even have a hard time here, where I have so little to give anyone. I am amazed by you guys who can actually reach out to each other on a consistent basis. It's so nice to watch, but I watch quietly because i have nothing to add. I feel like every thing I want to say sounds trite and just...not helpful. I wonder if I'll ever be that fun, happy, outgoing, normal girl again.

I feel more socially awkward now then I did in middle school. I never know if what I am saying to people is appropriate. If someone says "how are you?" should I be honest and let them know that I cried all morning or should I just say I am doing fine? Are they really asking or are they just making conversation? Does it even matter?

I feel like a social freak. I have no desire to engage in small talk because, as others have said, it seems hollow and fake to me. And, at this point, the rest of the world is done hearing about my dead child. After all, aren't I over it now?? I basically force myself to interact with other humans for the sake of my family.

Mindy, I will say that, as much as I feel like this, I realize that most of it is my perception. Truly, to the outside world. I think I appear "normal." (I've had several people utter: "You seem so normal!!", said with great relief, relief that they won't have to deal with the burden of my loss). I may feel like a fish out of water, but this is mostly just how I feel, not an actual fact. I am sure that that goes for you, as well.

Staph, I think you are right. I second guess myself in social situations constantly, and am really not very interested in most of the daily conversations I have, but I don't think it's obvious to everyone else.
That though can annoy me too. I might appear normal, but inside there's turmoil and heartbreak, and sometimes there is part of me that wants to simply scream and let it all out and scare the shit out of everyone !
Of course I don't, I just stumble along, and nod and hope whoever I'm talking to can't see beyond my averted eyes. x

Rebecca - I just wanted to tell you that you don't have to have anything to give. We're all here for eachother in our own ways. Whatever you can do is what you should do. And if you need support, we are happy to give it.

I keep wondering why we are all so hard on ourselves. We keep wondering if we are doing this "right." But losing a baby is not right, there is no way to make it right. Why do we feel like we have to conform to what people expect? I find myself doing it all the time. Hiding when I cry, stopping myself from crying, not saying what I am thinking.

I wish our society allowed us an outlet for our grief. It's not right to box us away and expect us to like it. We are normal, we are grieving. Grieving is normal. The people who don't see that are not normal. I swear I'm going to start handing out cards to everyone I meet that say, "There is someone in your life who has lost a loved one. Be kind to them and let them grieve they way they must, for as long as they must."

Steph/Jeanette - when my friends see me and someone else asks them how I am, I'm sure they say 'She's doing really well and just seems like her old self'. That's part of the reason I don't like seeing people - I don't want them thinking that.

Jen, you are so right. So much of my "acting normal" is to please other people. When my friend said at dinner "I don't want to talk about that (that being my dead baby)," I engaged in fake, happy chatter for the rest of the dinner to make HER feel comfortable. When my other friend announced her pregnancy, with zero mention of my loss, I e-mailed my congratulations (minus exclamation points... I couldn't bear those) to maker HER happy. I often refrain from mentioning my daughter, even though I am constantly thinking about her, to make other people think I am okay and, thus, make them happy.

This week, I reached my limit on doing things to make other people happy. I'm just opting out.

The expectation dance is hard and wearisome. I think we all go back and forth on the spectrum as our needs allow. The problem is that if you are always accomodating other people, you wear yourself out.

I've used this analogy before, but it's the one that is always in my head. It's like each well-meaning person says something (or doesn't) and that is like a small cut that bleeds. It's not intentional, but it happens. And often, you are expected to be gracious to them - to ease their discomfort - because it's only a few moments after all, and they don't know better. Except that you have a hundred of these encounters over and over and it leaves you bleeding quite a lot from a hundred cuts.

So what can you do? You want to protect yourself from that, but then you feel guilty for cutting people off or isolating yourself or snapping at someone.

There is no win here, no easy situation. And yes, if you act normally, people assume you are normal and are relieved. And they gloss over your loss and pain. And if you do bring it up and don't act normally, then they wonder when you're going to get over it. . .

And jen is right - we are terribly hard on ourselves. Why is that? Why do we set such high expectations up for ourselves? I don't understand it. I'm there with you - you know how much I was dreading dinner last night - I avoided them for MONTHS! and it was scary and hard. Ended up ok - but I have an entire group of people who no longer speak to me. People I called from the hospital, ffs. Nothing in months.

It's such an insane thing, this life-after.

Eliza, your cut analogy is perfect. Its like-- you get jabbed at so many times, you finally say "I've had enough" and curl up in a self protective ball.

It is insane, this life-after. A major loss, followed by so many smaller losses.

Oh Mindy. I'm not normal any more either.

I agree with Eliza. It is the accumulation of lots of tiny hurts, like pin pricks or paper cuts, that becomes overwhelming.

I so needed to be reminded that not being "normal" is totally normal to us who grieve. But oh do all those tiny little cuts burn. Have any of you ever peeked out from behind the wall of "appropriate" social decorum and "snapped" at someone? What did it feel like?