This week has been one for the record books. Nothing as bad as those last couple weeks in November in 2010, but still a doozy. Watching someone else lose a parent, knowing their suffering, and still trying to deal with your own makes things really complicated. As I prayed and sent positive thoughts to the Hollaways, I felt selfish Out of everything they were going through, all I could think about was my mom and my troubles. The waves of grief wrapped me up and spit me back out with no remorse. So many mornings, I laid in bed crying trying to pull myself together in order to go to work. How can I watch someone else lose their parent? How can I possibly offer support and comfort for someone else?
It was very clear. I was able to offer that love and support because it is all I have ever done. I have never actually dealt with my own grief of losing my mother. Of course I am aware of this. Last time I was home, we were dealing with family emotions (per usual) and Amber asked me "how do you deal with losing mom? how do you handle your grief?" I gave her one very short answer: "I don't."
It doesn't seem to make sense. Here I am 2.5 years out from dealing with those HORRIBLE 3 months of my life. I have changed so much since then. But has it all been for the better? When I was in college and my first couple months in Colorado, I was so carefree and ready to live. Now, I am on the edge of turning 25 and what have I accomplished? Yes, I have a Masters degree and a successful career. But what else? I don't have many friends that I fully trust and love. I don't have an active social life. I have gained weight since the incident. And my family is not what it used to be and probably will never be that close again.
Which brings me to tonight. I am sitting alone in my apartment watching a movie, the students are gone and I start to think. Why don't I just deal with this. OK... to be completely honest, I am watching the movie
The Words which is about a man who is a writer and finds this manuscript and tries to pass it off as his own. I thought - maybe that's what I need to do. Not steal someone else's work, but put my thoughts into words. If I put it out there, then I can't take it back. I can use my "blog" which I haven't touched since January to process all these thoughts and feelings that are going through my head. (by the way, I am still working out and have been eating soooo much better!)
With that being said, I am just going to say it. I MISS MY MOTHER. I miss her every day, every minute, every second. She is the person I long to talk to. I want to tell her everything about everything. Not having a best friend close is hard enough. I know I can call up those lovely people in my life whenever I want and they will listen like nothing has changed. But it isnt the same. I just want to hear her voice. I want her to tell me everything is going to be okay. I want to hear her excited, happy, sad, tense - I want to hear it all. My mother was my best friend. She will never be replaced in that role.
Now, don't get me wrong. I am so grateful for my father. Papi has stepped into this whole new role for me. We joke that if it was not for my mother, we would not be friends - but it is true. Dad and I always butted heads. There got to be a point where I would do the opposite of what he said, just because I could. Now, he is my constant. I know I can call him and he is willing to offer an ear (well... almost always. we will deal with that later). He has become that person that I need and know that he will always be there.
Since mom has left, nothing has been the same. My idea of normal continues to change. At home, my normal was always work and hang out with mom. When she got sick and I was home, normal was to be her everything. If she needed me in the hospital, I was there. If she needed me to take her to an appointment, get her food, let her sleep... whatever. I didn't care if I never ate or slept - it was all about her. When I was in Colorado, my normal revolved around my contact with her. I always called after my dinner and before hers. She got a post card once a week. I had to make sure I went to cool place to send her good post cards - I needed her to know that I was okay. But even then - I had nightmares that I would lose her. That I would get that damn phone call and she wouldn't be there anymore. Dad and I fought about me coming home; he didn't understand and that's okay. We got through it. After she left, normal was taking care of Dad. We used to say "well... its just us now" and "we will get through this together - you and me."
I had to be strong. I remembering crying hard 3 times through the whole process. There were always those sad movies or those crazy moments where I was worried. But only 3 times did I really lose control. First was when we found out it was stage 4 cancer - not when she got diagnosed - only when I knew how bad it really was, but only after I was done talking to Mom and Dad. They couldn't know just how broken I was inside. Second was when I came home from Colorado - right after she got diagnosed with stomach cancer. I knew at that time I was not strong enough to bury my mother. The only person who witnessed that one was Amber and it was only because I woke her up. Third was the day she went into ICU. The day I knew she wasn't going to make it. Even then, I ran outside of the hospital and dealt with it by myself. I have always been so worried about making things easier for someone else. When do things get to be easier for me?
Last summer I had this moment of clarity. I don't have to be the one to hold it all together. If everything is going to fall apart - so be it. Why should I be the one who has to hold the family together when I am barely holding myself together. If people don't want to talk, want to act like they don't care, it is not my job to fix it. And that is where we stand today. I am not going to "be strong" for everyone else. This is the year of Catie after all. I need to take care of myself and deal with all this emotion, anger, resentment, love, and pain that I feel all the time. I plan on letting go of the physical and emotional weight. And it begins with this.
