A vacation from myself with some queens

Last night, I took a vacation from my brain.  Rob and Emily were in FL and I was alone in the house with the remote and the tv and some Ben & Jerry’s.  I watched RuPaul and it was fabulous.  That Queen is amazing; beauty, talent, humor, all wrapped up in a package (pardon the pun) that is actually a man underneath it all. She is prettier than me and that’s okay!  She is gorgeous inside and out; such a positive role-model for anyone, really.  I don’t think you have to be gay or a drag queen to take what she says to heart – if you can’t love yourself how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else??

Sitting there, with my ice cream and newly manicured nails (another indulgence I took part in last night), watching those queens dress up straight men as brides to be on my tv allowed me to relax for the first time in days, weeks maybe and it was awesome.  There’s really no better word to use than that.  I turned off my brain and focused on the drama, the make-up, the glitter and the lip synching and it was a beautiful thing.  To just sit, alone, in a quiet house without being disturbed by screams of “MOM” or requests to change the channel because I’m the only one that wants to watch this show, was exactly what I needed after my weekend of sorrow and game-facing it for everyone.  I’ve been told at least a handful of times that you have to take care of yourself in times like these; not easy to do when you have a family to take care of and a job to do.  But last night I did, and I am thankful for it today. 

I haven’t recovered from the weekend; last night was helpful but it wasn’t magical.  There was no fairy waving a wand around, making everything happy and jolly again.  I wish that fairy had come to visit (although she would have been SOL in the ice cream department).  When I think about Sunday, or my impending milestone birthday, it makes me sad.  Very sad.  Staring at her empty chair on Sunday, trying to process the fact that she wasn’t going to sit there, was hard.  Harder than I can really put into words.  As reality hits me that she’s gone, I get back on the rollercoaster of emotions again.  It feels like it was yesterday that I stood in their bedroom, picking out her jewelry for her to wear in the casket and knowing that she had to wear the locket that I gave her for a picture of Emily – then having to pick out that picture and put it in there, knowing I would see it around her neck as she lay in that casket; it feels like I was just sitting by her bedside saying goodbye.  It doesn’t feel real every day and I almost wish that it did because maybe it would be easier to deal with if it was in front of me every day.  I think I’d be much farther along if my brain would just let me deal with it head-on instead of this pussyfooting around bs.

Celebrating the First Time Without Her

I thought that her birthday would be harder and Easter would either be just as hard or maybe even a little easier; I’m not overly religious, neither was she, so I didn’t think Easter would be harder. But I didn’t guess-timate on that one all too well.  I knew it would be hard, but I didn’t think it would be like that.

Being in her house, without her but with all of her misc. stuff was hard. Really, really hard.  I found myself sitting at the dining room table, while Emily played with a plate, just staring at her empty chair with the place setting in front of it.  My dad put it there and I think he will for every dinner we have there.  He doesn’t want her to be gone, no more than the rest of us do; there were times that I thought she was going to come around the corner from the kitchen and complain about how my dad put the forks on the wrong side of the plates again.  I found myself choking back tears more times than I can count.  Her empty chair, her tea cup still in the dish drainer next to the sink, her clothes on her side of the bed that haven’t moved since she went into the hospital and have (I think) multiplied as my dad has gone through things, her books, her movies, her glasses, a piece of mail with her name on it.  Yesterday just made me feel the emptiness of the void that has been there since she hasn’t been here; it felt bigger and more empty being in a place that she used to be in every time I was.  And that sucked and continues to suck today, and I guess it started on Saturday and just kept sucking until right now.  I had a bright spot in the weekend – a very nice date night with my significant other and no toddler, which was a very nice distraction from the crap that was the rest of my weekend.

Her birthday could have been worse, I guess. Standing in front of her ‘drawer’ with my dad and my sister, looking up at her name and years, remembering them putting her casket in there that holds her body.  I’m sure this is morbid but I wonder what she looks like now. There was a time when I knew what she would look like no matter how much time had passed, but that all ended a while ago I guess.  If I see her again, I hope she looks the way that I want to remember her and not the way that I do remember her.  That’s not a pretty picture.  My dad sees her sometimes, sitting on the couch watching TV with him.  I hope it’s real and I hope she is with him; all this time I have wondered why I haven’t felt her with me, so maybe that’s why.  She’s with him, watching over him, because he’s the one that needs her the most right now.  I get it, I do and I don’t want to be selfish but man do I wish she would toss a little my way, too.  I miss her so very much and I want her to see Emily SO much and to just see her, or to know that she was there – anywhere – would be a great comfort.  And right now, some comfort would be nice to have.

Today is the day

I wish I could say that I was in a good frame of mind but I'm not. I've already cried in my closet once today and it's only 9:40am. I should be putting the finishing touches on her birthday party, calling her and wishing her a happy 80th, hearing her say things like "well I'm still here" and "it'll take a lot to get rid of me". She always took pride in still being here.

This sucks. It just does. I miss her. I don't want to do this today, I don't want to sit at the table tomorrow at Easter dinner without her and I definitely don't want to do my birthday without her. This really really sucks.

Facades

I’m starting to feel….stressed, I guess for lack of a better word.  My mom’s birthday is two days away, Easter is three days away, my birthday is 10 days away and in between there is a trip to Florida to see my in-laws.  A trip that I really don’t want to go on.  Typically, I’m planning what I’m going to wear and I’m getting exciting and I’m checking seats and all that stuff because I can’t wait to go, but this time is just bad timing.  Really bad timing.  Somehow I’m supposed to come off of a weekend like this upcoming one, get on a plane and put on a happy face for Rob’s ENTIRE family – well, pretty much is entire family minus his kids from his first marriage.  His two sisters, their significant others, their children and their children’s children AND his parents.  Somewhere in the neighborhood of 18 people all together.  That is a lot of people to put up a façade for.

It’s interesting to me that, as the one that is grieving – as the one that lost her mother just a little more than three months ago – I’m the one that’s expected to put on a happy face and pretend that all is well; don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I think I should be catered to, that’s not it at all.  I’m the one that has to act like I’m okay, even though I will have just celebrated what would have been her 80^th birthday (a day that, although she probably wouldn’t admit to, would have been a big deal…she always said she would outlive all of us and every birthday was just a testament to it so this year, it’s not only sad but a tiny bit ironic).  I have to go do the big family thing even though I would prefer to be with my own family, or alone, so I can mourn what we have lost this year. I’ve lost more than just a mom – my dad isn’t who he used to be, I don’t think any of us are the same anymore.  I have gained a family, I really have; they have been wonderful to me and I know that I can call them at any time, for anything and they will be there emotionally and/or physically.  But – as wonderful as they are, I lost MY mom.  Not the mom that has adopted me into her existing family, but my actual mom, and that’s a pretty big deal.  When I say it’s been three months it sounds like it’s such a long time – but it feels like yesterday some days.  I just hope that they can respect that next week.  I hope that they can respect that I have just celebrated a birthday that really no longer exists, since the person it was for is no longer aging and is no longer here to blow out the candles on her cake; I hope they can also respect that I will have to celebrate my birthday in just a few days – my 40^th and my first without my mom – and that is a hard milestone to face.  I wish I could say that Saturday will be a day of remembering the good times and laughing at all the silly, funny, and probably semi-annoying memories we have of her but I don’t know if we’re there yet.  I think we are more prepared to stand at her grave/’drawer’ as she would say, put flowers there – carnations, as they were her favorite – and cry. 

Freakin' Tired!

UGH I am tired today.  it’s a combo – not a happy meal, a cheap-ass combo that you really don’t want but it’s the only available option that you can afford – of things.  I think I overdid it yesterday with the caffeine and sugar, in an attempt to stay awake after not sleeping the night before I screwed myself into a rebound/detox situation today from all of that stuff.  Lovely.  And that is something no one tells you – grief and the act of grieving is freaking EXHAUSTING.  No one tells you that. No Social Worker at a hospital warns you – or at least she didn’t warn me when I told her there was no “discharge plan” for my mom, no person that asks how you are gives you the heads up, no one.  I am beat and I am here to tell you that you will be exhausted from it and the things you do to try and survive it or make it better – eating a whole pint (or quart – whatever works, no judgment here) of ice cream before bed, eating chocolate all day, sucking down a bottle of wine with dinner, blah blah blah will all exhaust you, too.  It sucks the life right out of you and it’s your job on this journey to find your strength, find your energy, find the will and ability to get out of bed in the morning without killing yourself in the process. You didn’t interview for the job and if given the choice, I would bet dollars to donuts that no one would accept this job or this trip, for that matter (even if I won this through Ed McMahon and Publisher’s Clearinghouse, I would toss it right back at Ed, pop his balloons and close my door).  This morning, I said at least once “but I don’t WANNA get up” just like a little kid does when woken up for school.  I was so freaking tired this morning, but I had to get up.  I have to get up every day and take care of my daughter, get her ready for school, get myself ready for work and get us both to our destinations safely. That’s my job.  And that’s one that I can’t quit or, sometimes unfortunately, get fired from.

There are days when I have to peel myself out of bed, almost literally.  Those are the days that I want to spend under the covers, alone, away from the world.  Those are tough days, to say the least.  But no matter how hard it is, I do get out of bed and I get on with my day because I know that I have to.  I know that if I let the grief control me THAT much, I will lose.  I will lose myself, I will lose the battle that I fight every day to stay civil and sane and ‘normal’ – whatever that is.  I don’t know if people still look at me like “oh, poor thing, her mom died” or if they look at me and think  “God, she’s still upset?? Get over it already.”. I don’t know and I don’t care; if I’m having a bad day because my mom is dead, they will have to deal with it and I have come very close to telling people why I’m in such a crappy mood on those days – people around me should consider themselves lucky that I can and have bit my tongue on a number of occasions.  But it’s under my control as to how I deal with the bad day.  I do my best to be ‘normal’, although I do fail miserably at it sometimes, and I try to acknowledge those bad days and I sequester myself as much as I can so I don’t get myself into any trouble.  No one tells you that you have to put yourself into a proverbial cave in order to get through some days without landing yourself in the pokey or in your bosses office, whichever one would be worse depending upon your situation.

Yesterday did not suck!

Yesterday, although it started before the sun was even contemplating coming up, was not too bad.  I don’t know how I remained conscious and that state seemed in flux all day long – whenever the caffeine wore off things got hazy and my desk suddenly became an inviting place to lay my head– but as of right now, I’m feeling not too shabby about yesterday as a whole. 

I think Monday was my first opportunity to really think about and process the memorial on Saturday and what it meant to me.  It brought me back to when my mom died and that hurt. That hurt a lot and I didn’t expect to feel the way that I did; I need to talk to my sister because she hasn’t been to the cemetery since the funeral and we’re supposed to go this Saturday for her birthday.  My sister needs to go before then so she, too, can process what it feels like to see it so finalized up on the wall.   I was alone in my office yesterday, thankfully I have a door that closes for those times that I need to cry a little bit, and I was able to deal with the feelings that hit me like  a ton of bricks.  I wasn’t prepared to feel the way that I did; I don’t think I’m any better prepared today.  But I’ve discovered, on this journey, that I need days like that where I just cry.  I am sad, sad through and through, and I can’t hide it.  I have to cry in order to get through it and to get past it as well as I can.  I hate it; days like that suck the energy out of me and when I am with other people, I am horrible to deal with.  I try to not speak harshly but it is hard some days, it really is.  Challenges are one thing, but this whole experience….I don’t know.  I’ve always heard that God doesn’t give you more than you can handle; most days, I believe that there is a God or something like the idea of God that I was taught in my 12 years of Catholic school.  If that’s the case, God must think I am herculean because there is no way a regular human being can go through what I’ve been through in the past three or four months and come out unscathed.

Grief changes who you are, there’s no doubt about that.  When my friend from college died, it caused all of us to get closer and to hold onto each other a little tighter; a hold that really hasn’t loosen much in close to five years.  Grief reminds you of how precious life is; in my case, I lost both Donna and my mom with little to no warning. Donna died in an accident so there was no warning there, just the phone call.  My mom, I knew she didn’t have much time but I didn’t think it would be so short.  Grief has made me look at my own life and how fragile it is, the life of my dad, the life of everyone around me that I love, and I hold on just a little bit tighter to each of them so that they know how important they are to me and that I would be devastated if I lost them, too.  I hug my daughter constantly and I am always telling her I love her; she’s too little to remember it years from now, should something happen to me, but I want to instill it in her now so that when she’s older and able to retain the memories of us hugging and cuddling, she’ll have it to look back on when I’m gone and she’ll know I loved her and appreciated her for all that she is.

Navigating the journey

Grief, in and of itself, is very isolating.  Regardless of if someone you know has gone through the same exact thing, everyone’s experience is different.  How I view things, how I handle things or feel about things, is totally different than my friend who lost his father less than two months before my mom passed or my friend who lost her mom when we were 22.  Grief makes you feel very alone.  No one can ever really, truly understand your pain or what you endure every day.  No one knows what you feel when you look at a calendar and see your loved one’s birthday, anniversary, your own birthday, other events like holidays that you shared with them;  no one else understands just how it feels to see your loved one’s name, date of birth and an end date on a head stone.  No one else will ever really understand what it feels like to be in your shoes.  Grief makes you feel like you are alone in a sea of people who don’t or can’t see you, who you really are, and the pain you’re in every day.  You can go to counseling, you can go to group therapy sessions to listen to how other people are doing it and going through ‘the process’, but everyone’s journey is their own.  I may decide to toss a letter into the ocean to try to communicate with the other side, while someone else may choose to throw themselves into work so they can pretend the death never happened.  Everyone is different – I like ketchup and mayo on my cheeseburger, someone else may think that’s disgusting –this is a process that is individualized at its center.  No matter what I say to someone, they don’t really know what it’s like to be in my head and in my world every day.  It’s a process that you have to work through on your own and, although there are resources some might find to be helpful, in the end everyone dictates what they do along the road to make it as bearable a trip as possible.  For me, the journey has been a dark one with little spots of sunshine along the way; today, I feel like I lost my map and I’m just meandering around, lost, not sure of where to go next, feeling like I’ve seen that metaphorical rock/tree/bush before.  This is just a repeat of what I went through and I thought it was a part of the journey that was over, but apparently I’m just traveling around in a circle. (You know that part of the movie National Lampoon’s European Vacation – “look kids – Big Ben!  Parliament!” that’s my life right now.)