Tag: mother

Crying it out.

Published on by cmglife

I did “Last the day”.

I talked with my dr and he said there is nothing in my medicines or withdrawal off antidepressants that would cause this depression or crying.

“I’m not diminishing your pain,” he said, “but often you have a hard time coping”.

Normally I would have been insulted or felt unheard, but I had already thought of something close to that myself.

Could these tears be grief?

Maybe I just need to cry it all out like I’ve done before.

When I was little I cried for weeks when we moved, when friends moved. Cried for two weeks when I had to put down my dogs, my daughter moved to Wisconsin, my mom died, etc.

Most recently my divorce, the other woman, ostracized by my sister and kept from my grandchildren.

Maybe what I am misinterpreting as depression is actually grief . Maybe this is the way other people handle their emotional pain and I used to because I recognized the event.

So I’m giving it a go. I’ll be crying my eyes out and not questioning it. Sounds like utter hell, I’ll just release the sadness and cry until the tears stop.

I’m all about a plan.

Stinging Tears

Published on by cmglife

I was standing designing library signs on the computer.  All of a sudden I burst into tears.  Well not really burst, no one knew I was crying, but I felt like I had burst.

It started with my eyes stinging and then some deep breathes and face getting all scrunched up.  I realized at that point it was too late to keep it under wraps and I went into the office and shut the door.  The office was dark, but one wall is all windows that face the library.  I positioned myself between the door and the wall in a shadow so no one could see me falling apart.

I stood for a couple of minutes silently with tears running down my cheeks.  Inside my brain was battling was this really necessary for me to be crying in the first place and how much further and animated was this about to go?

While I was pulling a paper towel from the dispenser to wipe my eyes I began to sob.  Sobbing is heart breaking even for the person doing it.  When I was young I would let it all hang out and make as much noise as I felt necessary.  Now days I hardly ever cry, but when I do it is as quietly and reserved as I can manage.

Silently sobbing, my chest heaving and drying my eyes lasted a few more minutes until I felt I could move on and begin to recover.  I put my glasses back on trying to disguise some of the red face.  It’s always my red nose and lips that give me away.

I preach to everyone that a good cry is usually beneficial.  It wasn’t today.  It was horribly emotional and physically painful.

I haven’t written in a while because I have been completely up to my neck in getting a divorce.  It’s really happening this time.  My sweet narcissist husband started his old tricks last night of twisting my words and making veiled threats.  I was doing really well until I realized that he still has hold of me in a PTSD sort of way.  I fell into his trap and said a few things I had sworn I would not say as to not make things worse than they already are.  I was supposed to be laying low and silently suffering the way I had learned to after years of this treatment. I’m still kicking myself for not being able to hang on to my cutting words.

It was feeling overwhelmed today and not having anyone to talk to about it is what set me into tears.  I realized that I wanted to talk to my mom.  She was good for that.  She listened to me for years about him and always made me feel tough and fiery.  She didn’t give great advice, but she listened and was completely on my side.

For the first time in almost two years I missed her.  Two years since I’ve talked to her. It hit me hard that she is dead.  And realizing I needed her for that made me start thinking of the other things I miss.  Honestly, I just feel like hell today.

To be above all in levels of coolness, toughness, and swagger.

Published on by cmglife

Allison has been in kind of a funk lately.  It’s her age, summer is too long, etc., etc.  I have (as is my way) been trying to fix the situation.  I get criticism from Allison that this is a “fault” of mine and sometimes she just wants to talk.  Point taken and so I usually stay silent.  Staying silent in the moment is one thing I can handle, but not trying to come up with a fix as soon as we stop having the conversation is another thing.

I have so many ideas and projects I want to do the list is ridiculously long.  I would have to hire an assistant to complete all of the fun things I want to do.  So in looking for something for Allison to pass the time, one thing I came upon was a great app called Stylebook.  It’s where you take photos of all your clothes and make your outfits for a whole week!  She was not interested.  I showed her how she can change photographs to really anything with Photoshop. Not interested.  I told her about a new Nintendo game app  where you have to find the Pokeman in real time, kind of like a treasure hunt.  Not interested.

Enter Tristan, my 20 year old son. I mentioned to him I had told Allison about the Nintendo app, but she was not interested.  I said it must have been the way I had explained it.  A few minutes later Tristan left and went into the living room where Allison was and this is what I heard:

“Hey, Allison, this game is superdope……”

I guess it is all in the delivery.

I Miss Nonsense

Published on by cmglife2 Comments

Gosh, I just realized how much my blog has taken a turn for the dark and depressing.

Remember the nonsense posts of Breaking Records, Dancing Queen, The Creamer and Wine Diet and Pretty Boy Crushes to name a few?

They were the posts of the good old days when I was only battling my bi-polar condition and medication. I wasn’t level enough to have handled my mom’s dying at that time. I certainly couldn’t have faced up to my abusive marriage and actually planning to leave instead of just fantasizing about it.

There must have been such a pile up of things that could only happened while I am well enough to deal with them.  It must be God’s way of giving me only what I can handle.

Not to worry, I’ll get my old posts back as soon as my life stops “playing catch up”.

Wallowing

Published on by cmglife

No more wallowing for me.

I’ve got a mountain of laundry to do. The kitchen is a health hazard and my appearance has a lot to be desired. I think I’ve worn the same three outfits for the last two weeks. I cancelled my hair appointment and my legs are hairy. Allison needs her mother back and Tristan should be able to ask me how I’m doing without me turning into a crying mess. The dog hasn’t been walked, I haven’t gone to work in two weeks and my Christmas tree is still up.

I am still in shock, but isn’t it time to physically rise up and start participating in my life again?

Hmm, no, not yet, not today.

My Mum

Published on by cmglife

My mum died yesterday. I saw her body and the realization fell on me. She’s really not here anymore. I feel scared. That’s the last feeling I thought I’d feel. I’m a grown woman with a family of my own and I’m scared my mother isn’t here anymore. What if I need her?

Never Agains

Published on by cmglife

I am crocheting and thinking.  I crochet a dish cloth for my sister once every three or four years.  This one is a reddish pinkish color.  I contemplate whether it is a tomato or real red while my mother lies dying in her hospital bed.   All I have done the last three days is think.  I stare and think.

Someone said to me the other day when they found out that my mother was dying,

“Well, we all have to go through it don’t we?”

“No, “we” don’t”, I thought, “You have know idea how I am feeling. My mother isn’t like yours.  She is amazing, smart, funny, interesting. She makes you feel like you are the only one in the world that matters.”

I’ve been like this all week.  Anything someone says I take it as a personal affront.  Everything is just trivial now.  Bills, work, going the speed limit, laundry.

Does everyone feel like this when their mother dies?  I had no idea.  I was always sympathetic, but I had no idea it was so debilitating emotionally.  The sadness is almost overwhelming.

All those “never agains” just keep piling up in the back of my mind.

Terminal Diagnosis

Published on by cmglife2 Comments

My mom was diagnosed with terminal ovarian cancer today and I want to rewind time to last Saturday when life was trivial.

We have had rocky times especially in the last fifteen years or so.  When I talk to her now in between her dementia and pain she is the sweet, funny, smart mother that she often wasn’t.  I am grateful that I can at least get that mother now.  Of course, that is what makes it even more poignant.

All that wasted time.

Rejection for Christmas

Published on by cmglife

Christmas is approaching.  That’s when the old family hurts and feelings start to poke through the facade. Each year I wonder if it is easier to smile and ignore the past? So far it has been, but this year my skin feels a little thinner.

It begins when I start addressing Christmas cards. There are a few years here and there I haven’t had the mental strength to send them out and until now I haven’t realized why.

I tend to contemplate each relationship as I write the name and address on the envelope. I breeze through the names of my closest family members and friends, but then I inevitably have to write the names of those who have hurt me.  I start remembering events where I felt like an outsider, feeling misunderstood and just being downright mistreated.

And more hurtful than those names I write is the one I don’t, my mother’s.   Oh, my mother is alive and well. Physically that is.  To be kind, she is a little “off” mentally.  I don’t think this apple fell too far from the tree.  The difference is I am well and she refuses to be.  Therefore, with whatever  mental illness she suffers from she thinks she is better off without me.  I miss her. I’ve missed her for decades although it’s been only a year since I’ve seen her.

The biggest hurt was when she stopped sending me birthday cards.  That cut deep.  It’s been years and I still can’t come to terms with it.  We each have our breaking point. That is mine.

During this last year I have been tempted to contact her because, well I still miss her.  The idea will come and I will make a plan to call her.  Then the opportunity arises and I put it off.  Then I put it off again.  Next thing I know a week has gone by. I know why I don’t call, I fear the rejection.

I could go on and on about my mine and my mother’s history together, but I really don’t want to.  I’m tired of it all. Well, exhausted actually, otherwise I would dial her number again.