It's funny; if any of you were to be standing in front of me and ask how I am doing right now, I would tell you I am doing fine. And I am. I'm working at my job again (and that is a good thing), my laundry is mostly done, and my house isn't too messy. I'm off of that horrible diet so I can eat chocolate again, and my kids are not hating school or their new teachers. Derrick and I are doing fine.
And yet, every time I sit down to write lately, it is sad. There is a disconnect somewhere. There is 'the fine me', sitting here writing. I feel pretty good, no headache, don't feel like crying, don't feel upset or mad or really any negative emotion.
Then there is the 'three o'clock in the morning me' that wakes up every single night and thinks and thinks. Lots of anxiety. Am I doing enough? Am I trying hard enough? Am I being a good enough friend? Good enough mother? Good enough wife? Sister and daughter? Human being? Anxiety over past mistakes. Anxiety that I will never be good enough for anything. That I will never be as strong as I should be.
And then there is the 'me when I am by myself at home, on my couch, by myself'. Everything feels pretty futile. I have 'what is the point' mentality. Of course I know what the point is. But there is only a 'point' if I am strong enough and good enough. And it feels like I fall on my face pretty much all of the time.
Then I'm back to feeling fine. Fine is a good place to be. But it is unreasonable for me to just expect to sail through this month (or life in general) and just get to feel fine. In fact, I can't think of even one friend who isn't going through something really hard right now and having their own struggle. This just happens to be my own particular struggle.
Since the middle of September, every day corelates to what was happening at this exact time last year. We went to our assembly in the end of September, and it reminded us that that was the first assembly Mom couldn't go to because she was just so sick. September 28th was the day Derrin turned 11, and it reminded me of calling him last year from Mom's house to ask him what being 10 felt like. Last weekend was the anniversary of the first time we gave her the strong pain medication patch that took away her pain but also her ability to talk. And now every day is a memory of a day in a string of days that progressively became darker and darker.
This time last year was one of the hardest my family has ever gone through. I can't describe what it felt like to watch Mom fading away. I remember looking in the mirror and seeing a look in my eyes I'd never seen before, and I couldn't make that look go away no matter how hard I tried. It was so surreal to see real suffering in my own eyes. It was heartbreaking to see that suffering in the eyes of every other person losing her too.
When she died, there was grief, but it ended that horrible period of time, that month of unendurable suffering. We grieved, but we didn't have to exist in a world where our mom was hurting anymore. There was a relief in that. I never had to walk into that house to see her hurting on that bed again.
It was like the fire that was cancer had taken five years to reach us as we were all bound above it, knowing what the inevitability was. We fought as hard as we could to put the fire out, but one day it reached our feet. Then it took a month to consume our bodies as we dangled there, not able to do a thing to put it out, just twisting in pain as we burned. And then the fire had nothing left to consume. And we were burned and scarred and hurting, but we weren't on fire anymore, and I was relieved.
And every day I woke up and I wasn't on fire anymore, I was relieved.
I still don't know that I'm done feeling relieved, and the fire has been out for a year.
Maybe we are just far enough on the other side, that under the scar tissue old nerves are starting to reawaken. We spent a lot of time watching the fire build under us. That sort of thing really takes a lot of attention. Fear is a powerful thing.
The first six months after, I didn't stop moving or running. Running makes me feel better. It is a tangible thing that I can do to FIGHT despair and guilt and depression. It makes me focus on and appreciate the fact that I can BREATHE, that I have this body that is still alive and has the ability to feel good, feel pain, struggle and sweat. I have a heart in this body that still pounds when I make it.
I haven't been running so much these last couple of months. I need to get out there again and remind myself that I am alive and breathing.
I haven't even really done any photography this year, not like before. Maybe that is another thing that needs to be picked up again.
Writing helped before too. It's easier just to write about what's going on in our family life, and that serves a purpose, but when I started THIS particular blog, it was called 'The Lamentations of a Girl from Paradise'. Sometimes lamenting needs to be allowed. In my life I can't just talk about this stuff. There needs to be a place to put it. Tonight it is going here.
And yet, every time I sit down to write lately, it is sad. There is a disconnect somewhere. There is 'the fine me', sitting here writing. I feel pretty good, no headache, don't feel like crying, don't feel upset or mad or really any negative emotion.
Then there is the 'three o'clock in the morning me' that wakes up every single night and thinks and thinks. Lots of anxiety. Am I doing enough? Am I trying hard enough? Am I being a good enough friend? Good enough mother? Good enough wife? Sister and daughter? Human being? Anxiety over past mistakes. Anxiety that I will never be good enough for anything. That I will never be as strong as I should be.
And then there is the 'me when I am by myself at home, on my couch, by myself'. Everything feels pretty futile. I have 'what is the point' mentality. Of course I know what the point is. But there is only a 'point' if I am strong enough and good enough. And it feels like I fall on my face pretty much all of the time.
Then I'm back to feeling fine. Fine is a good place to be. But it is unreasonable for me to just expect to sail through this month (or life in general) and just get to feel fine. In fact, I can't think of even one friend who isn't going through something really hard right now and having their own struggle. This just happens to be my own particular struggle.
Since the middle of September, every day corelates to what was happening at this exact time last year. We went to our assembly in the end of September, and it reminded us that that was the first assembly Mom couldn't go to because she was just so sick. September 28th was the day Derrin turned 11, and it reminded me of calling him last year from Mom's house to ask him what being 10 felt like. Last weekend was the anniversary of the first time we gave her the strong pain medication patch that took away her pain but also her ability to talk. And now every day is a memory of a day in a string of days that progressively became darker and darker.
This time last year was one of the hardest my family has ever gone through. I can't describe what it felt like to watch Mom fading away. I remember looking in the mirror and seeing a look in my eyes I'd never seen before, and I couldn't make that look go away no matter how hard I tried. It was so surreal to see real suffering in my own eyes. It was heartbreaking to see that suffering in the eyes of every other person losing her too.
When she died, there was grief, but it ended that horrible period of time, that month of unendurable suffering. We grieved, but we didn't have to exist in a world where our mom was hurting anymore. There was a relief in that. I never had to walk into that house to see her hurting on that bed again.
It was like the fire that was cancer had taken five years to reach us as we were all bound above it, knowing what the inevitability was. We fought as hard as we could to put the fire out, but one day it reached our feet. Then it took a month to consume our bodies as we dangled there, not able to do a thing to put it out, just twisting in pain as we burned. And then the fire had nothing left to consume. And we were burned and scarred and hurting, but we weren't on fire anymore, and I was relieved.
And every day I woke up and I wasn't on fire anymore, I was relieved.
I still don't know that I'm done feeling relieved, and the fire has been out for a year.
Maybe we are just far enough on the other side, that under the scar tissue old nerves are starting to reawaken. We spent a lot of time watching the fire build under us. That sort of thing really takes a lot of attention. Fear is a powerful thing.
The first six months after, I didn't stop moving or running. Running makes me feel better. It is a tangible thing that I can do to FIGHT despair and guilt and depression. It makes me focus on and appreciate the fact that I can BREATHE, that I have this body that is still alive and has the ability to feel good, feel pain, struggle and sweat. I have a heart in this body that still pounds when I make it.
I haven't been running so much these last couple of months. I need to get out there again and remind myself that I am alive and breathing.
I haven't even really done any photography this year, not like before. Maybe that is another thing that needs to be picked up again.
Writing helped before too. It's easier just to write about what's going on in our family life, and that serves a purpose, but when I started THIS particular blog, it was called 'The Lamentations of a Girl from Paradise'. Sometimes lamenting needs to be allowed. In my life I can't just talk about this stuff. There needs to be a place to put it. Tonight it is going here.
4 comments:
Rachel, U are one of the most amazing people that I know. And I feel blessed to have you as a friend. I know this is a hard time of the year for you, and my prayers are with you (and ur family). Hang in there!!
Ok, this is from the sassy me:
GET out there and take some amazing pictures, and run ur lil BUTT off!! Continue to do the things in ur life that make u feel complete!! Clear ur mind and SMILE!! And I mean a "real" smile, not those "fake" ones!! ;) Oh yeah, and drink a GIANT mug of coffee!!! hehe
Luv you girl!!
I smiled as I read your comment, Corinne:) -As I was sipping on a mug of coffee (as ordered;) Thank you for everything you said- I am forming a plan of action! I shall prevail!!!!!
Hard times are inevitable for all of us in this world I guess. Having awesome friends sure helps get through them though. I love you too!!!!
All I can say right now is I love you and happy to have you as a part of my life, I feel you really are a "Kindered spirit"
and I can't wait to meet your mom soon, in a place when everyone's physical pain and pain of heart are no more.
I can just imagine you and Mom meeting eachother, Deana. When I saw your shoe,hat and purse collection, it reminded me of her- you'll have a lot in common and a lot to talk about some day!
I love you too friend. You are definitely one of those bright (and colorful!) spots to look to when life feels dark. Life throws us some hard times, and I'm glad we all have eachother to get through them.
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