Stuck in the Moment

I am re-reading the Hunger Games because I just saw the second movie recently and as I neared the end of the first book a quote leaped out at me:

Because if he dies, I'll never go home, not really.  I'll spend the rest of my life in this arena trying to think my way out.

I understand that on a very visceral level.  Because a part of me still lives in the guest room.  The person I was never left that room.  In fact, I would go so far as to say the person I was died in that room with Jeff. 

She opened that guest room door expecting to hear Jeff's sonic snoring but instead she found his lifeless body.  She rolled him over, ran for the phone, futility attempted CPR, all the time begging Jesus to help her with every breath she wasn't forcing into his lungs.  She relives that day, over and over, wondering what she could have done differently.  What would change the outcome so that after one of the breaths she forced into him, he would cough and sputter and breathe in on his own: like they do on the movies.  She could have then cried over him and told him how much he scared her.  Only she is still in that room, still attempting CPR and never getting the result she so desperately wants.  She is stuck in that moment.

Instead, a new person walked out of that room.  This new person who had to learn how to deal with death, to deal with being a widow, deal with being an only-parent.  She's not a bad person really, just not the one I thought I would be.

I suppose it is a form of PTSD to relive this traumatic event.  For me especially when I see CPR performed on TV or in the movies.  It causes a terrible flashback for me.  I actually need to renew my CPR for work and I can't do it.  I won't do it and so far no one is making me.  I don't know if I could ever attempt to do it again.  All I know is that I did everything right regarding the CPR and it didn't work.

You never "get over" a traumatic event like loosing Jeff to SUDEP.  In a lot of ways I am stuck in the moment of that morning.  The only thing is: I choose to box it up and keep a lid on it.  In order to function in daily life, in order to be the mother I want to be for my children, I try to contain the events of February 26th.  Not close myself off from it, but contain it so that I can function.  Which means, it also pops up like a jack-in-the-box to scare the crap out of me at random times.

I guess that since a part of me is forever stuck in that room, that is why I avoid it.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Widow