Fix You - Coldplay

I've been wanting to write more about my mom. Wanting to say more about her. And then yesterday I found the Christmas cards I never got around to sending this year. And there was a card for my mom. Signed, addressed and sealed without a stamp, in the bottom of my briefcase with all of the others. And it kills me. I wish I had done better. I tried, in fits and starts. There were times where I sent her things weekly, postcards and notes and flowers. And there were months where she didn't hear from me at all. It's hard participating in a relationship where the other end is silent. But I feel like I let her down by not having faith in her "being there", even if she didn't respond, and didn't recognize me when I visited. It's hard to maintain a relationship when it feels like you're shouting into a void. And also I know that part of it is that it was easier to run away and to be busy and forget all about my sick mom because it was sad and I was tired of being sad. And then there is the irony that my mom was a very busy person, who always gave to others. I inherited that quality (both through genetics and example), and so I tend to be someone who is generous with my time, and therefore tends to be busy...which made it harder to remember to send her things.


The funeral and everything was such a blur. I keep wanting to write about it, but really it's just a stew of things. I felt strung out most of the time. My sister called in the monring, and I was too tired to really process. She asked if I wanted to talk to dad and I said no. Felt kind of bad afterwards, but I really didn't have any words. After some time, I called back and talked to Missy and Dad. Once I figured out that Ben wasn't coming with, I said I was going to fly, and not ten minutes later I got an email that my brother in law had bought a plane ticket for that night. So glad Missy has him. He's a good guy, and seems like someone she can rely on. I know she's strong, but it's good for her to have someone to take care of her. I wound up going to breakfast with Dee and Ben, because I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have been able to operate a butter knife at that point (ps, home fries at soundbites are super good! and they gave us free fruit cups). I got stuck at Logan for a few hours because my flight was delayed, and I was too stressed and strung out to read. Fortunately there was a very cute and entertaining little girl in the gate waiting for the flight ahead of mine that kept me occupied. I bought a book, but I kept reading sentences over and over again. Got home and dad picked me up and brought me to my sister's house.

The next day we got together and found out what we needed to get done. On New Years Eve day we ran some errands. Picked out what mom was going to wear (Button up pinkish-purple sweater with beading and embroidery that I think she would have liked, with matching pants), picked out pictures for the slide show and got the bulletin boards from the funeral home. Watched Stardust new years eve at missy's house with her hubby and friends. I honestly don't remember new years day much at all, except that family came in. We kept giving errands for Jeff (uncle who has been a jerk in the past and who was VERY emotional) and Grandma to do. Then I think we all had dinner at Shannon Pub (we practically lived there). Food and drink and spending time with the family. And when you let go of the anger, it was like old times. I know there are still crazy arguments, but it seems like the pitch has gone down, at least a bit. We even have a family website that we are interacting on. And some of my cousins are on facebook. I've even been able to write a couple of small notes to my cousin's wife who I've never met.

Visiting hours were Saturday, and the second hardest thing I think I've ever had to do was walk into the parlor of the funeral home where my mom was laid out. I stopped maybe 5-10 feet in and just couldn't go any further. It seemed...surreal? And most of the rest of my family was there. I would get these intermittent fits of anger where I wanted to ask them, "Didn't you see how hard this was for us? Why didn't you HELP US?" But I didn't say any of it. It's too late now, and I think I already have the answer. Funerals are kind of like the worst pop quiz ever, in that there are TONS of people that know you from when you were teeny-tiny and that you haven't seen in forever, and they come up to you and say Hi and you want to remember who they are, but frankly you're lucky if you can remember your own name. At one point I know I was inappropriately excited to see a family from church that I remembered, just because I was so excited to remember someone without having to think to hard about it. My friends from high school came, Rik and Kristi and John and Jenni. So glad to have people there that you didn't have to "perform" for, with the resume update and everything. People who were there for YOU.

The hardest thing I've ever had to do is leave the funeral home...and leave her behind. All I could think, over and over, was that we didn't get enough time. And I know not everything was perfect about the time we had together. I'm a daddy's' girl, and got along better with him than mom. Sometimes because I was more like him that mom and we "got" each other, and sometimes because I was like mom, and we could butt heads. But I see the way my relationship with my dad changed as I got older and became an adult, and I want that SO MUCH with my mom. She saw me at my awkward, stupid, know-it-all teens, and then she kind of disappeared into her illness, and she missed getting to know THIS me, who is (at least somewhat) less of a pain in the ass, and more thoughtful and reasonable. I say it over and over, but I really think I have started to become the woman she was raising her to be, and its not fair to either of us that she isn't here to appreciate it. So it was me and Missy and Dad at the casket. That was the other thing that killed me. Seeing dad. He loved her, they loved each other. He stayed with her to the end, and it was another kind of heartbreak to see him having to say goodbye one last time after all the small goodbyes. I honestly don't remember much after that. Just standing there with Missy on one side of dad, and me on the other. The three of us together, and separate, kind of the way it always was.

The next day was the funeral. I spoke about how mom was creative, and generous, and about how we always knew we were loved, and that what was expected was that you tried your best, and that your parents would always love you. My sister wrote something that she had pastor read. That's another thing that has affected me, is while it's been hard on me, mom getting sick was harder on her. And I left. As much as I get angry at my family for not caring, I left them behind when I went to school, and I left them behind when I moved to Boston. At some point I want to talk to my sister about it. I justify it by saying that I shouldn't have had to give everything up for her, that there should have been more people helping, ADULTS helping, and then I wouldn't have things to feel guilty about. I don't know. After the funeral was the lunch in the church fellowship hall in the basement. Angelfood cake with whipped topping. Lots of casseroles with meat I couldn't eat. Back to missy's, and I think back to Shannon Pub where we got drunk and talked, Me, Missy, Alex, Taylor, Dani, Dad, and my uncles.

Sunday was flight back to Boston after lunch with Dad, Missy and Alex at Red Robbin.

Back to work on monday, because that's how I am. People at work have asked if I thought about taking an extended leave. No, for a few reasons.

A) sitting around moping was NOT going to help. Yes, it's hard hearing clients talk about how depressed they are after their mother died (sometimes I get aggravated because they talk about how their mother dying ten years ago makes them so depressed that they want to kill themselves, and I am torn between being empathetic and wanting to either tell them to get over it, or wanting to ask them if they think that their mother raised them so they would kill themselves when she died, or if she would want them to keep living. I go with empathetic because I'm a pro and that's what pro's do) Honestly, the people who I meet who are on disability for mental illness and don't have a job or some sort of day structure just wind up sitting around thinking about how depressed they are and feel bad about themselves for not being able to get out and do things, which becomes this terrible feedback loop. It was important to me to get "back in the saddle" as soon as I was able to keep me from ruminating and wallowing in self pity

B) It's not as bad as you'd think, in some ways. OK, the first week back it was obvious that I was depressed. But after that first week I started to pick up some energy. Even now I still have moments where I am a little run down, or a little (or, like today, a lot) sad, but they're mostly fleeting (although I'm not entirely suprised that the first time I've had problems with asthma and bronchitis are now, since I think there is still some emotional energy being expended on keeping me going, which is sapping my energy and making me more vulnerable. The fact that I had to have my first ER breathing treatment since I was living at home with my mom didn't happen until recently after she died seems more than just a coincidence, but I'm managing). I'm allowing myself to "wallow" a little bit here in order to write about it and process some. and

C) with the economy the way it is, I'm going to make sure I have this job as long as it is available to me!

Anyhow, I figured I'd post some pics of my mom...



My mom and dad with baby newborn Kelly (I am assuming that's my dad, although without the mustache I can't be certain :P)


This is how I like to remember my mom, before she got so sick. She was adventurous and fun-loving. That's one of the hardest things about grieving losing her, I have to reach so far back to remember what she was like before she got sick. So far back to remember who she really was and to find the connection to who she was and who I am today. So many things that are a combination of myth and retold stories and dusty memories from that too brief time "before". It might seem dumb, but it means a lot to me to be able to think of myself carrying what she believed forward, since her ability to live out her beliefs was cut so short. It's like an imaginary relationship with her that I'm making I think, that I can keep having, even though she's gone.


One year old Me and my Mom

Giving it Away



When dave and i moved in together, we were engaged, and had already picked the date...so i assumed i wouldnt need my tiny twin bed we used to share when he stayed over in my matching tiny appartment in boston. SO i gave it away. Gave away all of my furniture except a small foam sofa-bed. Gave away a mattress and box spring, gave away my phone, my patio table and 2 folding chairs that made my dinette set, gave away my bookshelves and nightstand. Gave away the things that made that tiny box of a studio appartment a home....



And now, two years later, i have no home. Well, nt exactly true. I am moving in with a friend this saturday...but it isnt *home* the way living with dave was home. I have no bed, i have no dresser, i have next to no money, and i need to get a rental van to move with. I feel overwhelmed by all i have to do, and sad and perhaps a little foolish to be in this position, thinking maybe i took too great a risk and gave too much away. I feel a lot of the time like maybe i was fooling myself to think that i would actually get married. Who was i fooling? Who would want to marry me? How could something in my life actually go right?



I know it sounds pathetic and mopey and full of self-pity, but i suppose this is what a break-up is like. I dont know. I just know my self esteem crashes a lot more often now than in the recent past, although not nearly as bad as in the less recent past. Maybe its just that this was a mistake. I don't know. Part of me thinks that it is, that i gave up too much to be here, and now i am paying for it...but part of me thinks it was worth it. I grew a lot in this relationship, both because of the relationship itself, and because it provided a shelter for me that enabled me to do more than i might have on my own. I know i am better for having done what i did, and yet, with this ending, i cant help but think maybe i gave too much away, and im not just talking about Goodwill.



Last night i went out with my friend Katie from work, and another girl from work, JenS (quiet jen, as opposed to JenL, who is anything BUT quiet). At first i was feeling a tad mopey, because i wasnt feeling like being social, katie and i were originally just going to go out for dinner the two of us, but she invited some others with, although only JenS joined us. She is an absolute sweetie, and much more complex than i would have first thought. I enjoyed getting to know her better. She is so much smarter and more wonderful than she knows, and i hope maybe she can find out a little more, cause she really is just awesome. So that was cool...i didnt feel obligated to be *super-up*, and i got to expand the people i list as *real* friends, as opposed to just *work* friends.



My tummy has been on orange alert lately...just so much anxiety over all of the breaking up and the moving and work and just EVERYTHING. *sigh* three more months at it will all be better. thats what i keep telling myself. just get through the next three months and you will be ok.

stuff that has been keeping me busy lately



Amazon.com (and my ever expanding wish list)



Ebay (did you know you can buy a HOUSE on ebay? Thats INSANE)



Mr Cranky Movie Reviews



Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab A very cool perfume boutique with a unique theme and original scents



Bust Magazine just the best woman's magazine out there, i especially enjoy the lounge



Salon.com, especially articles by Sarah Vowell, One of my favorite authors



Pucker Up, Tristan Taormino's website (for 18+ only)



Breakup Girl, a relationship advice website



Allposters.com, and here is the poster i want for my new apartment

Scared



The person i am considering moving in with called me, and i am going to be moving in with her soon. EEEK. This is it, its really over, i am really going to move out of this apartment and out of his life. I am just so scared. This was my home for two years...i feel so safe here. My new roomie is someone i like and all, but still, its so *unknown*. I'm afraid she wont like me. I am afraid i wont be good enough. I am afraid of screwing everything up. Im just so scared and insecure and i feel so alone.



I called my dad cause i am going to need some financial help, and he told me he had been busted for a DWI, which he was LOOOONG overdue for. Of course, this means that he needs to get a lawyer, which means the financial help he said he could give me has been reduced. Part of me feels like i deserve this. Like i am a big loser who should be able to fend for herself and sucks for needing to ask for help.



God i feel like such a loser. I cant keep by boyfriend, i cant keep up with my bills, i cant get the money together to get a new place....i suck.

I hate packing



I should be packing right now....but im at the library on the computer. I hate to pack. It has always stressed me out beyond what would be reasonable. I dont know what it is. I think part of it is that i am just not good at organizing things like that and i feel like i should be. A lot of it relates to how i couldnt handle things when my mom got sick when i was a kid and had to take care of the house, and a lot of it has to do with the fact that im just not organized and i hate not being good at something.



Then there is the concept of packing, what it means. As long as dave and i still live together, then everything is ok...ish. Packing means confronting the truth, that we arent together, that i have to do things alone. And its not that not having a romantic partner is the worst of it, i dont mind doing social things alone...its just that up until now i have had someone to face my demons with, someone who understood. When dave is gone then that leaves nobody in my life that really *knows* what i have to deal with every day. its like being a recovered alcoholic, to the outside im fine, but inside every day has its struggles. *sigh*. but then, maybe im not so special in this regard. i guess everyone has their challenges that go unseen.



*sigh*



i just dont want to move out. this was my home, dave was my family. i dont want that to dissapear

Knowing How to Love

My ex came home last night and we had a talk... he even wanted to take me back and try again, and i said no. Part of me thinks I'm crazy. I mean, it would be so great to go back, to try again, to not have to move out and be afraid of trying things on my own after so long, to not be afraid of not being lovable, to stay here, where i feel safe. I love him so much, but he's right...we cant be together.

Its so hard for me to admit to weakness. I was told "don't cry, i cant handle it when you cry". I feel like my emotions are dangerous, that if people see me having feelings, that they wont want to be around me, that those feelings are just too much for other people to face. So i hide them. I haven't cried to anyone about the break-up except for my ex. He's the only person i really feel safe being vulnerable around, but he cant help me through a lot of this stuff.

And part of what is so hard is that he told me what his mom has been saying about me. She has been pressuring him to break up with me for some time now apparently. She is mad because i am keeping the ring and the car Dave bought for me. I told Dave that i could pay him for the car, but it would take a while...and he said it was OK, that he would just give it to me. As for the ring...he never asked for it back, it was also my birthday present. When he told me that his mom was mad about it, i offered to give it back and he refused. (little bit o' trivia: when i got engaged, my boss at the time mentioned that if someone gives you an engagement ring on a holiday or birthday, and the engagement is broken, the woman can keep it, otherwise legally the man can ask for it back. So, legally, his mom is an idiot).

That's not the part that hurts tho....what hurt was when she told him that i didn't know how to love people. I know i have faults. I'm not perfect...but one thing i know, is that i am a very loving person. It hurts to think that she could say that about me. I just...she got what she wanted. She wanted us to break up...and that's what she got. Why does she have to say mean things about me? Why cant she just say "well, its too bad things didn't work out". Dave and i still care about each other quite a bit. We are still close friends. There is no need to be hurtful. I'm not mad at Dave, I'm just sad that we couldn't make this work.

Its funny, because i know i shouldn't care about what she says. I know that I am a loving person. Dave has said he always felt loved. People who know me tell me that my loving giving nature is a big part of what they like about me. Dave thinks that i threatened her, that i was taking her baby away and so she lashed out.

Dave and his mom have a rather unhealthy relationship. She is sick, and needs a lot of help, and Dave is always there for her, which is good, to a point. The problem is that she can be so manipulative. She isn't able to ask for what she wants, so she plays victim/martyr, and manipulates people. Its a rather f-ed up family dynamic really. Her husband is psychologically abusive (he has been violent in the past). Mom needs to go to regular medical treatments, or she could die, and dad plays games with her about whether or not he can take her, causing her to have to scramble for rides and such. She cant drive, she has chronic-fatigue and kidney failure, and so she is really dependent on him.

I don't know, its just all messed up, and Dave is in the middle of it.

*sigh* Ending this relationship is making me feel a lot of self-doubt. I feel like a failure, and my self-esteem feels like its imploding from time to time. I feel like maybe i was fooling myself to think that i was good enough to marry. I mean, it took so long for me to get to a point where i could even stand myself, let alone like myself. So many bad things happened that i had to overcome. Feelings of being dirty and damaged and unlovable. And Dave loved me anyway. And i know...deep down i know...that its not true, that what they did to me didn't make me damaged or unlovable, but i feel that way anyhow. One thing that was so comforting when Dave and i were planning on getting married was that i would never have to explain to another person about why sometimes i cry after sex, and how i cant stand the smell of polo cologne. That i would never have to tell someone that i had been raped, and waited to see if they decided it wasn't worth the effort. I'm still not at the point where i can be in a sexual relationship and not have that come up....i don't know if i ever will be. A lot of those feelings are coming back for me....and its hard.

*sigh*

i need my own personal cheerleader