Last night, I had a head full of words. They were far too many and far too loud to possibly ignore. So, at midnight I caved to the situation and dragged myself out of bed and headed for the lounge, and my laptop.
I wasn’t going to be able to sleep while all that noise was going on in my head and I simply HAD to do something with it or I’d be up all night. I had work in the morning and a full day ahead. I think any working person knows, when you have to sleep so you can function at work the next day, you do whatever you need to make that happen.
In this case, the solution was to write, and write, and write. Just take whatever words were flying around in my head and get them OUT and on ‘paper’ even if that means electronically. I need to externalize them. Once they are out, I can put them down and walk away – or so the theory goes. Last night, was up until 1am shaking it all off even after I finished writing my poem, “I Hate”.
While I do feel better for having written it and poured out all that emotion, there’s still oceans of it left inside which still hasn’t found an outlet and is churning away like a tempest from hell. I’m not sure what the solution is for that. It might be more writing. It might not. It might be a trip to the cemetery. It might not. When I figure it out, if I ever figure it out, I’m sure it’ll be healing. In the meantime, it’s back to the ongoing hurricane that comprises my inner world.
Most times, I’m okay with Julia dying. She did what she needed to and went home. It’s that simple. It wasn’t her idea to get cancer. There wasn’t anything she could do about it. It was rare and aggressive and it took her in just over a year from start to finish. What else are you going to do except concede and move on as best you can? I adjusted to all that two decades ago.
Then there are days where I’m suddenly not so okay. Anniversaries mostly. Her birthday or the anniversary of her death (Nov 15) are the worst. But there are occasionally other things that suddenly remind me of her and they come out of nowhere and it’s a bit like being mugged.
There’s no warning. No ability to mentally or emotionally prepare. Those moments just appear out of thin air and deliver the sucker punch of all time. I think anyone who’s lost someone in their family knows that feeling.
I keep waiting for it to get better, but it never does. Each year, it’s a little different to the one before and seems to hurt in a whole other way. And it totally sucks.
I find myself wondering just when I’ll reach the point where I’m ‘over it’ enough to deal without having some kind of crisis at least twice a year, if not more. Then I wonder if such a point even exists or if it’s as mythical as finding Shangri La inhabited by unicorns.
And nobody has any answers. It doesn’t matter where you look or who you talk to. Friend, relative, spiritual adviser, or even the Great Kahuna. Nobody can offer anything that will heal these kinds of ragged wounds. It all comes down to what you tell yourself and how much slack you’re willing to cut yourself.
In my experience, being the strong, stoic type doesn’t cut much mustard. All it does it allow you to engage in a tidy bit of self-flagellation. Now, if that’s your thing, have at it. Just be honest about it,
If you want to fall apart into a massive flood of weepy tears each year, be honest about that. Just also be aware that people might be willing to help you through one crisis, but they aren’t going to hang around for an ongoing saga. This isn’t theatre, you’re not the hottest drama in town, and NOBODY has bought season tickets to see every performance. People are more than willing to support as long as it’s a ‘for now’ deal and not a ‘forever’ one. People who are constantly in crisis wear others out and then, they walk.
I sort of tread the middle road. I’m weepy sometimes and not others. Most times I pick up and get on with life, and when I can’t, I don’t. At those times, I’ll more than likely squirrel away and do the worst of my crying in private.
When I’m ready, I’ll talk about it, perhaps in on Facebook or in a blog post but initially, only to a select handful of people whom I trust and have embraced as family. Once I have worked through the worst of it with them, then I’m ready to go to a wider audience, although no matter how much that audience thinks I’m open and share so much, they are still at distance I feel comfortable with and there are parts they will just never see. Only the inner circle sees that stuff.
Today, I am processing. I am working through all the layers of grief trying to find a way to get through tomorrow and pick up my daily life until January rolls around and I have to deal with the anniversary of her birthday (Jan 15).
Then of course, there’s my Dad’s birthday (Jan 16) and my Grandma’s (Jan 8) and the anniversary of Dad’s death (Mar 22), etc. It just never stops, does it?
It’s like bouncing from one wall to another and never finding a place where you can just stop and rest. I wonder if such a place even exists, in this world or any other. But wouldn’t it be nice if it did?
PepSpill 