My heart is so broken right now. I just want to fall off the face of the earth. He’s done the one thing he said he’d never do to me. He went away. He promised me he’d never go away like everyone else, and he did. After all the bullshit he fed me about how he loved me and would be with me in a heartbeat if he could, he left his wife finally, but not for me…. for someone else. Someone he’s know for a month. I’ve wasted almost two years of my life on the internet with him, two years of thinking about him constantly, all to have my heart shattered, ripped out and stomped on. But, I guess it serves me right for having an “internet affair” on my husband. This new girl actually emailed me pics of herself, smh, the fact that she’s ugly only hurts more. I’d have rather her been beautiful, at least I could see why maybe a little better. Right now, I don’t care about life. I want to cut so bad and death is my wish upon a star. I do these things to myself, bring pain into my life by my choices. I constantly fuck up. FML, fuck it real good.
So I really can’t lie, I have to come out and admit this to someone, so why not here? I’ve been in the same clothes/pajama’s since last Tuesday. If I don’t do something about it today, that’ll be a week tomorrow, same clothes (if you’re thinking omg same undies for a week, commando folks, lol), no shower, no hair brushing, and a lot of sleeping. I can’t say I’ve really eaten anything substantial either… cereal a few times, pizza once I think. (Although I often go a whole day or two without eating, bad I know.) I’m taking my meds consistently at night, but the mornings are still inconsistent, (although I have been better about mornings lately). When it comes to the boys I do as minimal as I can get away with. I will admit that their dad gets stuck with the majority of taking care of them. I have no energy and no motivation. I spend too much time on the computer doing nothing important. I wear my robe all day long for Pete’s sake…. And I just don’t even care.
My husband is an asshole and he’ll never change. He has a nasty temper and just really isn’t nice. I can’t leave for more reasons than I care to talk about right now. I’m starving right now but won’t eat anything because nothing sounds good. Sean’s actually standing next to me bitching right now about unopened mail and other bullshit. I am tired….. all the time. My mind just wants to shut down and sleep, or my body, maybe both, either way, I sleep more than a lot of the time. I want to change so bad, yet I just continue to remain the same, because I just must not be trying hard enough or want it bad enough, or something. Otherwise I’d have made more progress by now. In eight years I went from being a severe opiate addict to sober, I have several different chronic health issues as well, plus all the mental health crap. I’ve come a little ways in eight years, but not very damn far. In my husband’s eyes I’m worse than when I was on drugs, smh.
Now I’ve pretty much lost my best friend and the love of my life, D, and I feel like I’m dying inside over that. All I really want is to be happy, but it seems to unattainable. Someone close to me recently said it’s almost like I say I wanna be better but really I don’t. But that’s not true…. I don’t want to feel this way and live this way for the rest of my life. My life is passing right before my eyes and I’m just watching it go. I managed to stomach a bowl of cereal a little bit ago as I wrote some of this, and I’m working on getting some dry mac n cheese down now. My intentions are to at least wash my hair and take a “sink bath”, it may sound pathetic, but right now, it’s a big step. I didn’t even feel this bad when I went to the psychiatric hospital like two months ago. I don’t know anymore, I see my primary care physician tomorrow, my psychiatrist Thurs. and my therapist Fri., but really there’s nothing they can do. I’ve been on a million meds. I’m gonna do a little more ECT research and talk to my mental health guys about it at the end of the week. Let’s cross our fingers and pray I can at least bathe tonight, smh. I feel like I’m giving up.
I hate that this hurts so much, I hate that I’m letting it get me even farther down than I already was, but I just can’t seem to help it. You told me from the beginning that you’d always be here, that you wouldn’t leave me like everyone else has. You told me you believed in me and that we could walk this journey together, even if not physically together. You know all the hurt that I’ve been through, all the struggles. I believed everything you ever told me, even when my instinct from being hurt so much told me not to. I’ve loved you with every ounce of love I had to give. You have my heart completely, yet you’re breaking it into a million pieces. You’ve shut me out. Refusing to talk to me. You call me selfish for being so upset because you won’t talk to me about what’s going on, but what do you expect? How am I supposed to react? I’ve been so worried about you, so worried you’re going to do something crazy. I know you don’t want your marriage to end, or at least I don’t think so. I don’t want it to either because that means you being unhappy and all I ever wanted was for you to be happy. I’m so angry at you right now, I just can’t believe you’d do this to me. You have to know how badly you are hurting me and yet you still won’t just talk to me. The texts we do share are short, you don’t say much and you haven’t been very nice. I’m pretty sure that if I haven’t lost you yet, I’m going to. My calls all forwarded immediately. I just wish that you would be big enough to tell me that you don’t want me in your life anymore and why maybe, but at least tell me, don’t just ignore me and shut me out. I’m starting to wonder if you were ever who I really thought you were in the first place.
You’re hurting me and you don’t even seem to care. I feel like everything has been a lie this whole time. You were supposed to be my best friend. You said you believed in me, you loved me, that you’d always be there and you’d never leave me like everyone else. It all must have been just words though, because you’ve shut me out so tight I can barely see through a crack. Answering me in small sentences and one word answers on the rare occasions you do talk to me. And now you’ve got me wondering if you’re actually seeing someone else and you refuse to answer me when I ask. WTF is that?? Hasn’t our time meant anything?? Three weeks ago you said you’d marry me in a heartbeat if situations were different, so what IS this?? Why do you insist on hurting me…. I can’t take this kind of hurt again, you are killing me inside…. I don’t even care anymore.
Broken, my wounded heart is bleeding, bruised beyond recognition, and he’s holding it in his hands;
It feels as though he has ripped it out of my chest, with bare hands, my blood dripping down his fingers.
This can’t be happening, this can’t be real, I keep pinching myself to see if I’m dreaming, but I know I’m not;
For if I were dreaming, I would not feel this God awful pain in my heart, my chest, my mind and soul, all through me;
I cannot think straight, my mind is disobeying my commands to focus on something else, no matter how hard I try;
My thoughts always end up going back to him, back to whatever the hell this is that’s going on right now.
The pain and the thought of it all,the realities and everything, just keep slamming me in the face over and over;
And I never know when it’s going to happen, they’re like surprise attacks of harsh reality and deep emotional pain.
I never expected this, I just don’t understand, how could things go from being fine to this…. how??
The part I hate myself for the most, is believing that these last couple months would stay that good, even with him;
I knew it was too good to be true, it always is, but all the things you’ve said to me, recently and past, what about that?
I had a hard time trusting in the beginning anyway, then I finally give my trust and all of me;
And once again, I’m left hurting from it… I just don’t understand… you promised you’d never go away.
I know you are most likely hurting right now, and I realize it’s selfish of me to not show concern;
I am just so wrapped up in my own feelings and confusion over what is going on, wanting answers;
Answers I’m not getting, but I’m suppose to not act crazy… okay…. I’m scared that I’ve lost you.
My mind is in total chaos mode, I literally cannot think straight, I can’t complete tasks correctly, I can’t focus;
I literally ache inside constantly, aching for you, just to hear from you even, but especially to know what’s up.
I need to know what’s going on, and I don’t think it’s right that you won’t tell me, you told your wife about us;
That much I did get at least, but what does that mean dammit, why did you tell her, what is going on;
Does this mean that the you and I that just so recently existed is going to be nothing now, over with;
Will I lose you too, just as I have lost all those in my life that I have loved either by death or separation?
All the promises you made me, like how you’d never go away, that we’d always be friends and you’d never give up on me;
Promises to see me, telling me you loved me, and that you’d never chose between us, there’s so much more than just this.
Every good thing you said to me, I’ve believed, I’ve always taken your word for everything, never questioning you;
I’m sorry that I’m still not better after a year and a half, trust that I want to be and it hurts to know you feel that way.
Every time you told me you were proud of me, it was more inspiration to work at this harder, I wanted to make you proud;
I know my progress has been slow, but I have made some, and that’s definitely better than none.
Come back to me my best friend, please speak to me and explain, tell me what is going on with you and us;
Help me to understand why all this is happening please, I know I have said selfish things, but please don’t stop talking to me;
Everyone always leaves, everything good in my life turns to shit, everyone always gives up on me, get tired of me;
And I can’t blame them, I’m a mess, crazy, too much to handle, I ruin everything good in my life, that’s truth.
It has occurred to me that I am now following over one hundred blogs, and I started thinking to myself, exactly how many of those hundred plus blogs do I actually read and on a regular basis…. the truth is, sadly, not many, I just don’t have time to read them all…. I have kids and a family and my own blog to try and keep up with as best I can. I wish that I could read a post from every blog I follow, every day, but I’m not sure that’s possible, lol. So anyway, I decided that with Spring here and all, I’d start weeding out those blogs that I don’t read, that don’t appeal to me, etc. I’ve decided to go through all the blogs that I follow and read their about page first, then read a post or two by them, if I like it, I’ll keep them on my “blogs I follow” list, if not, I’ll be taking them off.
This is not meant to offend anyone, whatsoever, so I truly hope no one will have any harsh feelings, it’s just that I feel if I’m going to have an enjoyable experience on here, not only writing, but reading too, I might as well be reading about things that I’m interested in or can relate to, or stuff I just like. I’m sure everyone wants their wordpress to be tailor fitted to them. Anyway, I’m not going to defend myself anyway, but I guess that’s just how I am, lol.
I am delving into my blogging world right now to try and keep my mind off of the real world that is going on around me, because I don’t want to deal with the pain and the truth of what is really happening right now. I feel like I’m losing the other half to me, as though I’ve been cut in two. The sadness and confusion and anger and not understanding are so great it’s unbearable. So I have to put my mind into something, even if it’s blogging. At least at helps me to not thing about all the hurt for the time being, for the moments that I’m writing. All I want right now is for everything in my life to go back to the way it was a week ago, back to before things changed in his mind. The hardest part of this all is the not responding to me no matter how often I text or email him or I’ve even went as far as to call him a few times and yes I know I sound obsessed about it and I guess maybe I am, but I don’t understand why he’d just quit talking to me with no nothing. Especially after the way the last month or two has been, we’ve been a lot closer. Now all of a sudden, nothing. I realize he could have a totally legit reason, and I honest to God pray that he does, and that it’s not, his feelings about me have changed, we can’t do this anymore, what we’ve been doing is wrong, I love my wife and want to fix things with her and can’t do that with our relationship too, etc. etc., Idk, stuff like that. And how terrible do I sound because really those are all the right things he should say… but I don’t want him too. I want him to say that he wants to keep what we’ve had the last year and a half, that he does love me, and that he meant it when he said I was a part of him now, and the other things he’s said. At least one of those things even.
So now for the next several days maybe, I will be going through all the blogs I follow and doing what I said above, weeding through them. It’s not a popularity contest, lol, who I am, just some random blogger. If you still choose to follow my blog even though I don’t follow yours, I truly appreciate that and it means a lot. I will also be doing my best to get more posts in as I’m doing all this. Thank you to all my supporters, followers, and especially readers, you rock!! 🙂
It’s true what they say, you never know when it’s going to be the last time you see someone, the last day that you ever spend with them. It was a Monday night, April the twelfth of 2014, my mom and I had just moved back up north from Flint that past August of 2003, so that my mom could be with her husband who’d just gotten out of prison. I wasn’t exactly happy about this move, as it would be taking me out of Flint, out of the city, and my crack supply would literally disappear over night. I was just barely eighteen, I could have said no, but I knew my mom wouldn’t let that happen. So I ended up giving into her and her husband and following them up north with our stuff loaded down in a truck, a u haul trailer and my car. We got high on rocks the whole way up there, each in our own separate vehicles. See, my mom had been a drug addict earlier in my life, then an alcoholic and then she quit everything completely when I was around ten or eleven. When I was sixteen though, she relapsed with coke/crack. I was dating a guy who sold it and he lived in the apartment with us and eventually my mom just said screw it I think. By that time she only had one lung, she’d had one half at a time removed, two surgeries, on the right side I believe, due to lung cancer. Then we moved to Flint and it got even worse for both of us, so that’s when she decided to move us back up north. again. She knew we had to I think, for my sake if any.
As reluctant as I was to move back up north with my mom and step dad, step family, I knew that without my mom I would die on the streets of Flint before nineteen. So I went and at first things were really bad for me, I went through some sort of psychological withdrawal from crack/cocaine. It was intense and nuts and nothing I’d ever want to experience again. Stupid ol’ me though, I had friends in the next town up, a town a little bigger than the one we were living in, and they could get crack and coke. Of course it wasn’t the same grade as the stuff in Flint, it was cut like crazy and half the time wouldn’t even cook up, but my mom and I bought it none – the – less. 😦 How sick we were, how terribly sick mentally and physically we were. To still be seeking this out, this crap that we had left one city for to come back home to get away, and it followed us, we still managed to find it. Thankfully it wasn’t as easy to get up north and it cost way more and like I said the quality was poor, so that discouraged my mom from wanting to buy it, because she couldn’t turn it into rock form. So this went on on and off from the time we moved up there in August 2003, to the night of April 12th 2004.
I knew what I was doing was wrong, enabling my mother to get crack, when I knew she only had one lung, and I knew she was supposed to be on oxygen most of the time, I knew that crack could kill her in an instant. But she was my mom, and when she begged me to do it for her, I felt this sick guiltiness, and I was so torn. Do I do this for her, or don’t I? Too often I found myself doing as she’d asked me to, and then I’d end up staying with her and getting high!! Who in the HELL DOES THAT???!!! With their own MOTHER! But I did, we did. And I dare someone to say she didn’t love me, because that woman went through hell for me, trying to make sure I had what I needed and wanted. She was a good mom, she tried her hardest with me, but I didn’t listen and I did what I wanted and that’s’ one of the things I regret. I should’ve respected what she did and didn’t want me to do, because it wasn’t much. There’s no sense in dwelling on what I should’ve done to be a better daughter though I guess, although I do.
I had been out all day the day of the twelfth, or most of it anyway. Running around to see who had dope. Somewhere around evening time, early night time, I arrived back home with my a guy, the dealer. I knew my mom would want some, so I decided to help her out since she asked me to. She gave him the cash she had on her and we stayed a little while, but when she was done smoking it, she wanted me to go up the the ATM and get more cash for her, and I just couldn’t do it. Even though we did drugs together, I still cared about my mom, her health, smoking crack and cigarettes with only one lung, I cared about her financial situation as she was a set income each month. So I wasn’t gonna let her get money that she didn’t have for this shit, out of her ATM. She tried saying she’d just go but my buddy said nope he couldn’t sell her anymore. She got mad, very mad for a little while….. but then she calmed down and she hugged me and told me thank you. I just looked at her and said, “I love you mom, but you’d had enough.” I ended up giving her enough for maybe a hit or two before we left and she seemed content with that. Before I left for the night, I apologized to her again, and she said sorry to me once more as well. We said, “Good night, I love you”, gave each other kisses, and she told me to be safe as I backed out of the driveway. I waved to her and honked as I pulled away, I could see her standing in the window of the door.
That night I ended up partying for a awhile and then ending up at a hotel room with the guy who not only sold dope but smoked it. We partied together in his room, just him and I and late that night/early that morning, we fell asleep. When it was time to be out of the hotel room, I dropped him off somewhere and began driving home. I was tired and I wanted to go lay down some more in my bed. When I got home I should’ve known immediately that something was wrong. My mom’s truck was still in the driveway, and there were a few other vehicles I didn’t know in the yard. Plus my step grandparents who lived next door, were gone. It should’ve seemed odd that there’s was the only car gone. When I walked into the trailer, my mom and her husbands bedroom was directly in sight of the front door. I looked in there and didn’t see anyone, but oddly, what I did see was all the bedding tore off their bad. Now several times my step dad had wet the bed due to being too messed up to get up and go, so I though maybe it was one of those nights. I called out around the trailer, no one answered, I check for people, but no one was there. So I decided I was going to lay down in my room til everyone got home, although I just couldn’t figure out where they all were, who’s cars were in my driveway – my stepbrother’s friends maybe? And why was my moms truck parked out front. Initially I thought maybe her and her husband went somewhere with her in-laws next door. Anyway, I had laid down and I was just starting to drift off to sleep when I thought I heard knocking at the door, I wasn’t going to answer it, but then it stopped and for some reason, something made me get up and run out there. It was my aunt Eve.
It was unusual to see her at our home at that time of day especially, since she normally would be working. I didn’t have my glasses on so I couldn’t see that she was in her work uniform, she had been getting in her car when I finally opened the door and yelled, so I went to my room to get my glasses so I could see. When I came out my aunt had made it inside and I could see she was dressed in work clothes. She told me that I needed to get ready so we could go to the hospital, which was about 35 – 40 minutes from where we lived; and that my mom had been taken by ambulance that morning and we needed to get up there. Because no one could find me or get a hold of me, I had no idea, and I’d had people looking for me and trying to find me all morning…. but I was asleep, in a hotel room, after spending the night getting high on crack. My aunt had left work and driven down to our home in a last desperate attempt that maybe I was home but just not answering the phone, or something like that maybe, but either way, she drove 40 miles down to our place to see if I was there because she knew I needed to be found. She didn’t say whether or not she knew if my mom was alive or dead or what condition she was in other than that they found her without a pulse…. those were here exact words, “your mom was taken by ambulance this morning, and when they found her, she had no pulse”….. that left room for thoughts that they could have restarted her heart, that maybe they did CPR and she started breathing again, I was hoping for all kinds of things. After a brief call to the hospital to be sure how to get there around the road construction that was being done up there at the time, we were on our way. It’s a long, wooded stretch of land between the town I was living in and the city that the hospital was in, and my aunt and I barely spoke the entire way, me in the passenger seat thinking this was the longest ride in my life and praying fervently to God that he please let my mom still be alive, please don’t let her be dead God, please don’t take her from me, that He couldn’t possibly let that happen.
Finally we arrived to the emergency department of the city hospital, parked and got out, but as soon as I had gotten out, before I’d even shut my door I think, my uncle’s wife, who was standing next to their car with my uncle, started screaming at me, “She’s gone Lily, she’s fucking GONE, your mom’s fuckin gone God dammit!!!” Instantly I fell to my knees and curled up into a little ball, right there on the concrete of the parking lot, I curled up into a tight fetal position and my mind was just gone. Nothing made sense, everything was blurry, I could hear but it all sounded far away, like an echo…. my family picked me up and carried me into the emergency room department in that position. I’m not sure how long I stayed like that, but I do remember being taken into a “family room”, that’s just off the ER waiting room area. My whole family was in there it seemed like, even though it wasn’t, but my step-dad (which I say with a very snotty voice) was there, my aunt Eve’s daughter (my cousin), my uncle and his wife, the one who had screamed at me in the parking lot, and some other people I don’t remember. Although I’m not sure when, eventually I unfurled myself from the fetal position I had curled up into in the parking lot of the emergency room. I think I was in a state of shock because I don’t really remember saying a lot, and although I’m sure I was crying, I don’t clearly remember that either, everything was like a blur, and it seemed to all be moving so fast, too many people in too small of a room, things like that. Two things that do stand out to me are when my uncle grabbed me by the throat and slammed me up against the brick wall and screamed into my face, “You killed her! You finally fucking killed her you little bitch, are you happy!!” A security guard and my family members got him off of me, and made him leave the hospital, but by that time, it was too late, the damage was already done, in that moment I was sure he was right, I was sure it was my fault she was dead. Sometime before my uncle’s violent outburst toward me, a social worker or grief support counselor for the hospital, or something like that, asked me if I wanted to go back and see my mom’s body. I remember saying no, but for whatever reason, this woman wheeled me into my mom’s cubicle and shut the curtain behind us. I will never forget the way my mother looked, lying there on that hospital bed/gurney, eyes closed, a slight smile on her face, her sheet, lavender and purple gingham with flowers, still wrapped around her, covering her up, she looked as though she were just sleeping. I touched her body, her hands, her face, kissed her forehead and cheek, and then the woman wheeled me back out. I’m still not sure to this day if it was a good thing that that woman took me in there or not.
So all this had happened, and things were starting to sink in a little more, there were still a bunch of people around. I remember sitting against the cool brick wall with my knees up hugging them, not really sure what was going to happen next. Well, as it turns out, my aunt Eve and a couple other family members decided to have me petitioned into the psychiatric unit there at the hospital, their reason being because I had always said that if something happened to my mom, if she died, I’d kill myself. With the fact that I wasn’t completely off drugs yet and my mental health issues weren’t being addressed at the time, I guess they decided that was the best thing, I don’t really know. I spent three days in the psychiatric unit there at the hospital, I got out the day before her funeral. My step dad had all of my stuff packed and sitting in the garage by the time I got out of the psychiatric hospital. I went to stay with my aunt Eve the day I got out, so I could get clothes for the funeral and what not. I remember being pretty numb, it was all like it wasn’t really happening. I wrote a poem for my mom and read it at her funeral without breaking down into a bawling baby. I remember being very surprised at the number of people in the funeral home for her service. There was no more sitting room, standing only in the back. It amazed me and made me so proud that MY mom had touched this many peoples lives enough for them to attend her funeral service.
All those days came and went so fast. I ended up homeless for awhile after, but that’s another story. The events of those days, that day, that week, they forever changed who I was and who I’d become later. To me, on that day, I lost not only my mom, but my best friend in the whole world, the one person who always had my back and believed in me even at my worst, the strongest, bravest, kindest and most loving women/person that I’ve ever known. For a long time I blamed myself for her death, if I hadn’t have brought crack home with me that night, maybe if I’d have made sure she got less, whatever way you want to think of it, all those what if’s, they can make a person insane. I’ve finally accepted that it wasn’t my fault that she died, that the Lord has a time and a plan for everyone and it was just her time to go, even if that meant it’d hurt me like hell. It’s been eleven years now this past April 13th, and I still miss her all the time. While I may not think of her constantly like I once did, she’s never far from my thoughts and forever in my heart. It hurts still when I think about what it’d be like if she were still alive today, when I think about her missing out on her grand kids, seeing them be born, watching them grow and playing with them, spoiling them rotten as I have no doubt she would. She couldn’t be there to walk me down the aisle when I got married, or to see us buy our first home, all those things, things that people take for granted far too often. I regret every foul thing I said to my mother and my regrets for what I put her through as a preteen and teen are so deep I could wade in them, but there’s nothing I can do to change any of that now. I know my mom loved me more than life itself. She always made sure I was taken care of despite our situation. She was an all around amazing person. If there’s one thing people can get from reading this, it’s that you should never take your loved ones for granted, or the time that you have with them either. You should try to cherish every moment that you have together, whether it be your mom, dad, sister, brother, spouse, cousin, whomever, be so grateful that you have them there with you at that exact moment, because you never know when you’re going to lose them. Only the Lord knows when our time is up, and it could be at any given moment, I could post this and then fall over dead with a heart attack, I mean seriously. Take your time here seriously, don’t waste it on petty stuff, use it doing truly important and good things, like being with the ones you love the most, because you’ll miss them when they’re gone.
An empty shell, vacant of a woman who’d once been,
Soul lost, mindless…. Trying to stop the pain.
She’s stopped caring about the important things,
Her family, herself, her human condition.
She turns everything good in her life to shit,
Sabotaging all her relationships, familial, platonic, and romantic.
Living in a viscous cycle that always leaves her down and depressed,
It always comes back, the demon always welcomes himself back to her.
So lonely, she is so terribly, achingly lonely.
Tears don’t often come anymore, she feels as though she’s all cried out most days,
Then there are days when the tears just flow and the agony falls down her face.
This indescribable pain inside her heart, she just doesn’t understand,
What must she do to fix it? Hadn’t she been praying for so long now?
She doesn’t even try anymore, she’s giving up, slowly but surely, starting to scare herself,
Because this time it’s real, she knows that if she lets go, it’s really gonna be it this time.
A bleeding heart, wounded soul, broken emotionally, mentally and physically exhausted, physically disabled,
And people say she’s just having a pity party for herself, well maybe part of it is that she pity’s herself, but she knows others have it worse out there, she’s looking at just her life, being the ever so selfish woman that she is.
A woman who’s heart aches and bleeds over the love that she will never receiver from a man.
Most of all, she is just tired, so incredibly tired, and all she really wants is to just curl up and go to sleep and get forever lost in her dream world.
She’s so empty, yet so full of all these feelings and emotions at the same time….. She’s a mess.
Easter…. As a believer in Christ, Easter means a lot to me. I do personally believe that Jesus was resurrected and overcame death for us. As I believe he died on the cross, three days prior, for our sins. So yes, this day should be a day of celebration in that manner, and I am inexplicably grateful for what this day represents. With this joy though, comes a mixed emotion of sadness that comes from personal or “earthly” life. I know the Lord does not want me to feel this way about the situation, but I do….
See, this month is the 11th year since my mother and best friend died, and I will probably blog about it/her a lot, I’ll just share that right now. Easter was the last holiday I spent with my mom before she passed away, which just so happened to be two days after Easter that year, 2004. She died on the 13th of April. Holidays were a really big thing for my mom growing up. It was for the most part just her and I, along with some aunts and uncles. Even though we never had much money, my mom always made it a point to put on good holidays, even if we went to someone else’s home, (which we usually did), she made holidays special at home too, for me, no matter how old I was. She always decorated for everything, from Christmas to St. Patrick’s Day, she put something up, even if just decals on the windows, and I always received something, whether it was just a card or a gift too, but she always did something. That’s something that will always be a memory for me.
So I guess with Easter, it’s like it’s a reminder of my Savior Jesus Christ and what he did for me, mixed with memories of my mom, not only on holidays but all the time, and yes, I get hit with that sadness, that empty spot inside of you that they used to fill, and even though I know she is in a far better place, it still hurts to have her gone, it hurts that I got eighteen years with her and that was it, although I know that some have lost their mothers or fathers way before that age even. I just wish she could’ve seen me have my boys, could’ve seen me get married, get my first home, things like that. And I know it’s that way with a lot of people. They wish. We all do. But I what I do have is a heart full of great memories of her and a love for her that’s out of this world. She was an awesome person and she’d want me to be happy, celebrating with my boys, her grandsons.
Maybe as the years go on Easter won’t be such a strong reminder of her and her death, but I have a feeling it will always mess with me emotionally, I’m just wired that way. I don’t dwell everyday on her being gone. In fact I get angry because I can’t instantly conjure up an image of her in my mind anymore, and I can’t remember the way her voice sounded, but there are certain things that really bring it all flooding back to me, the whole thing, and when it happens, I have to hold on tight and do my best to do what she’d want and be strong. Every one loses people they love in life, it’s a part of life, but it’s never easy I don’t think.
Happy Resurrection Day everyone….. May God Bless You and Yours
It is going on eleven years since my mom died, April 13th, 20014, and every year I tell myself I’m going to be fine, that it’s just a date, that it’s ridiculous to get all depressed and emotional over a date, especially weeks in advance. But today I was thinking about it because of the way I’ve been feeling, (more depressed than usual, a different kind of depression almost, and just a complete I don’t care attitude about life in general). I was thinking about the pas years, and I can honestly say that at least in the years I’ve been married to my husband, which is almost eight years, I can say that I’ve noticed a change in myself that starts sometime in March and lasts through until a few days after the 13th of April. My husband even once said in a rather heated discussion I believe, that every year about a month before the day my mom died, it’s like I start to anticipate the date, almost dwelling on her death for whole month. Like I was giving myself an excuse, a reason, to be the way I was being, to be depressed and non-functional really as a mother and a wife, and the part that I hated the most, was that he was probably right in a lot of ways…. and I hated that thought, still do. But he was right I think, there is a change in me, and even though I’ve gotten better with it each year, I still struggle with that date, that time of year, and the thing is, I don’t know that that will ever change.
As it would happen, my beautiful mother died two days after Easter that year. So every year, Easter is just one more reminder of losing the person that meant the most in the world to me, the person that I loved more than anyone else on this earth, my best friend…. and that was the last holiday I ever spent with her….. with the whole family and my mom. Then two days later she was just gone in the middle of the night she left us….. I wasn’t home that night. I’ll talk about this stuff more in depth in a post I have planned for the close future. Anyway, I think all these things are triggers and this is why I’m feeling worse starting sometime in March each year and I just, I don’t know, want it to stop being so disrupting, without making it any less special in honoring the memory of my mother.
I think one thing that kind of bothers me also, is that her ashes were never once in my possession after she was cremated, they went to her husband (whom I cannot stand) and he eventually gave them up and my cousin ended up with them downstate, where she buried my mom’s ashes next to her brother’s ashes, my cousin’s dad, on a really nice little plot and a beautiful head stone for both of them. I have never been down there to see it though, as my husband doesn’t really want to take me, but that’s a different story.
Anyway, I’ve realized this, and I do think it’s something I need to work through with my therapist eventually. For the moment though, the date is steadily approaching and I’m worried…. I’m worried because I was just hospitalized in March for sever depression, I’m worried because my husband is not supportive or kind at all and my boys are too young to understand, I’m worried because it hasn’t been long enough for my meds to be working…. and I’m just so tired. So yes, I’m worried, but the sane part of me says I can do this and be fine because I’m strong even if I don’t feel like it, and the worried me laughs at the strong part. So, I’m crossing my fingers that good will win in this battle and I will make it through just fine. Try to honor her memory and deal with some feelings at the same time maybe. We’ll see I guess!!