So I should be blogging about something funny about my kids. Or some political issue that’s got my panties in a bunch. Or whatever new beastie has been spotted in my backyard.
But. I don’t feel like it.
I’m having a bad day. Yep. ANOTHER one.
It’s a strange thing, this grieving business. I used to think that when you lost someone in your life, it was like some horrible sickness. And in the beginning its very bad, and you need to tend to it and care for yourself and heal. But – given enough time – you get over it and come out well again, on the other side.
I was very wrong. Grief, who I’ve come to know very well, apparently sticks around. In fact, while it may stay out of the way more and more often, it never ever leaves. So I am working on making room for this very unwelcome newcomer in my life. The “new normal” I hear it’s called.
And still, grief springs from the shadows daily, like some over-served, sweaty, far too grabby guy in a bar forcing himself on me, grabbing my wrists and spinning me through some sorrowful dance when I least expect it. I am overwhelmed, I hold back tears – and then push it back and storm away. I don’t want to dance. I don’t have time for that. Cripes. Leave me alone already.
I know I should expect to be sad. I know I know, my mom died only a month ago. A month ago today exactly in fact.
(One entire month, impossible to believe, I wish it hadn’t been so long since she passed, I wish her life was more recent, I wish so much hadn’t happened since that I want to tell her about. And thus the explanation for my bad day.)
But I am sick of thinking about it. I’m sick of being so bummed out all the time, I am sick of being broken hearted, I am sick of making people sad around me, I am sick of not being myself and forgetful and not as functional. And unmotivated, and so damn tired, and guilty.
Did I mention the guilt by the way? Guilt is grief’s BFF. They hang in the corner together and cackle away about how miserable they make me. But guilt is a little smoother than grief I think. She saunters up innocently, leans into my ear and whispers questions. “So. Your mother drove you a little crazy didn’t she? What kind of daughter were you anyway to her? You could have come and visited her more often, right? She was alone when she died, wasn’t she? Do you even remember the last time you saw her?”
But if I ask these questions out loud, my loved ones balk and huff back at me that I was a wonderful daughter and I should not be feeling that way and insist that my mother would want me at peace right now.
I know I know. Guilt never makes any sense. But its very very real. She has made herself at home, carefully putting ideas in my head and slipping away while I crumple to floor. I hate her.
So yeah. Here I am. On a bad day. Missing my mother who I lost a month ago today. Wishing I could call her. Wishing her remains weren’t neatly sealed in some wooden box back in her bedroom – doing nothing, saying nothing, being nothing.
Yeah, oh this blog is AWESOME now. Woo hoo! So fun to read! I am so depressing I bet I make depressed people run screaming in the other direction. That’s me. A regular Debbie Downer blogger. (Insert trumpet sound effect: wah, waaaahhh….)
My new name? Mourningside Mom. Heh.
At least I have my sense of humor, right? And I have my family. And my wonderful boys who force the square peg of normalcy into my round hole of a day. And my husband who lets me put my ear to his chest to hear his heart beat and affirm that he is alive and loving and here.
All will be well. All will be well. All will be well.
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13 comments ↓
Your new normal is okay with me. And I bet it’s okay with the rest of your friends and loving readers.
Keep talking. Keep grieving.
My heart breaks for you.
Tomorrow will be five months months since my Grandpa passed and I’m seeing my mother continue to struggle every day when the grief hits her unexpectedly.
She’s embarrassed about it. She apologizes.
Please don’t apologize. Please try to beat back the guilt.
Love ya, lady.
I’m so sorry you’re going through this.
Beautifully written, C. Love you.
You’re entitled to grieve. I hope you can let go of the guilt and stop worrying about how others are perceiving you, but I know it isn’t easy. Losing someone you love is an ugly business, complicated and messy and unpredictable. Don’t let anyone try to tell you there’s a formula. I’m so sorry. Sending you warm, healing thoughts.
Do not apologize. Let go of the guilt. Grief is hard enough on its own without being burdened and bogged down with the nasty Guilt Sister. Allow yourself room and space and time. Anyone who can’t understand or isn’t supportive doesn’t need to be in your life anyway, real or virtual.
Grief is not a linear process – I learned that lesson well in the months that passed after the end of my 7 year relationship. It will pop up at the most inconvenient times and double you over with pain. Just remember to be patient with yourself, and know that the gift in this process is that you’ll become a more compassionate friend and loving family member for having gone through this. You will survive, and your friends love you!
Lauren
highly effective imagery of the overserved sweaty guy who won’t leave you alone. maybe…maybe next time you can see him coming and get away before he gets a hold of you. Or DH can steal the dance. I bet he’s good at that.
You are SO right about grief and guilt, they are little bitches, both of ‘em.
I’m a bit of a Debbie Downer myself today, thanks for the company.
Nina
Caroline –
I know everyone is telling you to give yourself time. There are days to move on, be a Mom -send your littleones off to their first day of school. But you have to give yourself the time you need to heal. The time you need to be sad. You are right, it never goes away. And there is a hole in your heart. And the voices in your head ask too many questions. One day, you will be able to push those voice aside – they might not go away totally. Or they might resurface in oh, 10 years, or maybe 20. But the good days will eventually be more consistent. The smiles will linger longer, and eventually the laughter and sunshine will feel real. My heart goes out to you – I think of you often.
I know everyone is telling you to give yourself time. There are days to move on, be a Mom -send your littleones off to their first day of school. But you have to give yourself the time you need to heal. The time you need to be sad. You are right, it never goes away. And there is a hole in your heart. And the voices in your head ask too many questions. One day, you will be able to push those voice aside – they might not go away totally. Or they might resurface in oh, 10 years, or maybe 20. But the good days will eventually be more consistent. The smiles will linger longer, and eventually the laughter and sunshine will feel real. My heart goes out to you – I think of you often.
Hang in there, C. Your new normal is what it is and I’m glad you have the outlet you need to get things off your chest. My heart breaks for you and the pain you’re in. I wish I could help make things better. Love to you, my friend.
I find comfort in my grief for YOU that you are such a wonderful writer and can express in the written word how you feel. You know where I am if and when you need me.
There is no need to apologize. I am well aware of grief and soul crushing guilt. You are right, it sticks with you, it becomes a part of you. Life and death are messy indeed. It is for this reason we have blogs. It is for this reason that we have this community. We are here. We are reading. We are not going anywhere. All my love. Thinking of you.
Caroline,
I’m validating your feelings, and letting you know that everything you are thinking and feeling is okay. Because as humans we are always going to have to struggle with making sense of everything, even things we know are out of our control. But you are one very wonderful human being – and if you weren’t you wouldn’t be grieving. No need to be happy all of the time, our suffering reminds us that we are human and alive – and without it we wouldn’t understand gratitude, or happiness. I am glad you are able to write everything out, because you are offering your wisdom and heart to many people in the world who need it, and by sharing your experience others can learn. I miss you! …Take care. I’m sending butterflies, rainbows, and lollipops your way! Maybe they will scare away the guilt. Xo!
I came across you blog by accident whilst trying desperately to find some site that would give me the advice I needed to simply get up out of bed and live my life again.
All I can say is thank you, I am not one of your friends, we are strangers who will probably never meet, but your words connected to the feelings that as yet I cannot even give name too because all I feel is loss.
My mother believed that is the moments of basic human connection, with no agenda just those random moments when human beings brushes against eachothers lives and made sometimes even the smallest of differences that was the reason why we are all here. Your post reminded me of that. Still not sure I will be start living again tomorrow but at least I know my pain, guilt and loss are not mine alone to own.
Scarlet
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