Loss – Secret Life of a Lawyer Part 8

I have been laying on top of my bed in my black suit and heels, staring at the ceiling for exactly 5 hours. Feels like someone is laying on top of my body pushing me down on the bed. Another cancelled, very important meeting down the drain. I can’t get up.

49 Days and Counting

I have been like this now for exactly 49 days. I have been 20% of what I used to be.

Without exaggeration, I am sick, tired, have no will, don’t want to fight, don’t want to talk, don’t want to work, don’t want to eat, am not productive, cannot answer phones, don’t know my body anymore, don’t have energy to exercise, don’t want to be touched, can’t drink, can’t keep my eyes open, can’t cook, can’t function. I am losing my body and my mind. And no, this is not a nightmare. This is my life nowadays, everyday.

I have lost count of the number of times I have cancelled meetings or asked for adjournments. The thought of going to court makes me vomit, literally. I have been lucky everyone has been understanding and kind. I am vulnerable, but the thought of anyone even touching me makes me shiver.

All the sh!t I went through that I talked about in my previous blogs combined together and multiplied by 1000, don’t even come close to this one.

Having to run a business, be a full time lawyer, deal with the every day stresses of life, business and work while feeling like death on a daily basis have nothing on what is about to come, apparently. Yippie. Can’t wait.

By now I have dragged myself to my psychologist and balled my eyes out, have seen a healer, have tried all sorts of vitamins and herbal remedies and have read hundreds of blogs to feel better. At the end, nothing has made me feel better and instead I have been trying to learn to accept this and let it take over me. Still, it is a hell of a ride.

The Loss

The physical pain pales in comparison to the emotional one. Loss. I have never experienced it in so many shapes and forms. And at this rate, at this volume.

Until now I never realized I have been obsessed with two things all my life which I have now lost:

• Being in control of my life; and
• Not being controlled by anyone, ever.

I moved out of my parent’s home at the age of 17 because I didn’t like rules or being controlled in anyway. Same reason why I didn’t like team sports or working for big organizations or big firms. I studied law and began having my own business because I could be autonomous. I went on all my long travels on my own.

Being oppressed as a child during the war and living in a restricted country made me shape my life in a way such that I never had to be under anyone’s control. But now…I can’t help but feel like I have lost that ability. That freedom. To me, this loss brings back all the childhood trauma that I have managed to avoid for so many years. And having to go through it when I am this weak physically and emotionally, is one of the biggest challenges I have ever experienced in my life.

You have to understand, the worst part of this is that it began happening right after I found freedom, euphoria, experienced the alternate world. I found happiness in its truest, purest form. I wrote about that here. I wanted to spend my life exploring that world. Those moments of complete connection and surrender were why I was put on this earth. I was finally whole, finally happy. The more I immersed myself, the more I fell in love. I went from that high to this state of fatigue, confusion and sadness in a matter of weeks.

Other People

Yes, numerous good-hearted and wise people have told me this loss will be replaced by one of the biggest gains and joys in life. But what no one seems to understand is this:

Saying that there is a better life ahead is like telling someone who just lost the love of her life that there will be better, most suitable guys out there. That maybe true, but it is the last and least believable thing for her while she is grieving her loss. And saying it is going to be better in the future really does not help much when she is in that state. What the future may hold does not heal the loss. They are two completely separate things and need to be explored and accepted separately and in their separate times.

In this (my situation) though, it is not just one loss. It is the loss of numerous present and future joys and pleasures of life, some temporarily and some permanently. From not being able to drink, to not being able to cook, properly exercise, go on trips, hold down food, function at life and work, etc. I have to imagine and accept a life where I will no longer have my own schedule or my own life to worry about for years to come. I won’t be able to do weeks of trekking in the mountains in the middle of nowhere, or sail in between oceans with no care in the world.

I will have to let go of many ambitions, many plans and many career opportunities for a least a few years to come. I will have to accept many sleepless nights. I didn’t plan any of this and wasn’t fully ready. And yes I know I am not a victim and never was. Regardless, these feelings are real.

So no matter how much you might say I am being hysteric and how so many billions of women have done this before, that doesn’t make my situation any easier.

And that’s OK, I will find ways to adapt because that is what life is about. And this pregnancy was not planned. But,

The Expectations

The problem is that I am expected to have a glow on my face, keep on touching my belly, call a photographer to capture this bump and track its growth on Instagram obsessively. I am supposed to happily, joyously announce this incredible, magical news to the world and jump up and down with happiness.

But I feel awful. And I am swimming in a sea of confusion, trying to accept and implement so many changes immediately while giving up a part of me to create and sustain life.

Sacrifice starts now – with me giving up myself for someone else. And I as a female must within a very short time find a way to cope with this otherwise there could be consequences for myself or the baby. And during this entire time I am supposed to act excited and happy. Otherwise, I may be stamped as a heartless and selfish mother who probably already hates her child.

What many do not understand is that this has nothing to do with the baby or my feelings towards her/him. In fact every time I think about this little thing unknowingly kicking my ass and growing peacefully inside of me with no care in the world, I smile. I am not mad at him/her nor do I hold any resentments. What I am dealing with is personal and no one is at fault for it. That is why the last thing anyone should do is judge this process because it is simply too complicated to be simplified by superficial judgments.

And I have no doubt most women have felt the way I have in some degree, some shape and form. So I know I am not alone in this despite many women keeping quiet about it.

The Pressure

I have already been repeatedly made to feel guilty or abnormal about complaining about this or telling it like it is (and I am sure most other women have as well). If I act sad or unexcited, I can be easily stamped as either ungrateful or unloving. The pressure we have as women to act like or be a certain way from the time we get pregnant until our children are adults, is overwhelming.

If we feel sh!t about our bodies and minds struggling everyday, we are pressured to keep quiet. We are not supposed to talk about it out of the fear of being misjudged. In case we are brave enough to admit this is awful sometimes, we are supposed to quietly book a counselling session without letting too many people know we don’t fit the mold of that pregnant, glowing, happy woman on TV.

What breaks my heart are the number of women, including some of my best friends going into their shell during their entire pregnancy and barely talking to anyone, including me. Instead of sharing how they felt and seeking help, they just isolated themselves because they felt abnormal and guilty about feeling the way they did. I can only imagine how much easier the process would have been for them if they could be who they were, said what they needed to say, and were accepted regardless of how differently they felt.

Unless we can talk and share all the good and bad, we deprive ourselves from the most important and vital help during this entire process: the support and compassion of those who understand and can relate. The feeling that we are not alone. That we are not bad for feeling the way we do. That this is real. It is a roller coaster of emotions. Sometimes it is awful and sometimes it is exciting.

And I am not afraid of talking about it.

Written by Leena Yousefi.

Leena@ylaw.ca

To read about the panic attacks, click here.

To read part 2 on addiction,  click here.

For Part  3 on the climax, click here.

For Part 4 on pleasing, click here.

For Part 5 on how it all ended, click here. 

For Part 6 on how bullying got me to where I am, click here.

For Part 7 on transformation, click here.