Sometimes, You Just Have to Laugh...

Soooooo..... I got laid off.  Yep.  So that happened.  If the universe is trying to test my resilience, I think it is doing a pretty fucking good job.

I am actually not that upset about the job, to be honest.  Maybe I should be...but I'm not.  My therapist said that lately I have been on the fence on whether I wanted to be there or not anyway.  So far, its been ok.  I don't feel like I lost that much.  I miss the people, of course.

 I feel like God it telling me to step back.  Re-evaluate. I have been working on the house. Spending time with my boys.  I am not completely tied up with work. I have been working out. Taking care of me. I want a job. I want to contribute to our household, but I am also feeling good bout taking this time to reset.  Reset my mind.  Reset my priorities.  Reset.


Until Next Time, Press On and Make Strides

Cracking

I feel like I am living in an after school special or a teenage, coming of age novel, but I have no narrator to tell me what is going on, or how its going to get better.

I cried last night.  It was the first time I have really let myself cry.  Nolie wanted to play with this

Melissa & Doug board that  has different types of locks and latches on it. Each door opens to a different number/colored animal

. 

And when ever the boys would open one up, Mom would say what it was super fast, like "OnePurplePony" "FiveGreenFrogs."  Nolie asked me to play it with him, and I literally couldn't do it. All I could hear was Mom saying that, with the laughter in her voice, slamming the door back shut to make the boys laugh.  It was the realization that she was never going to do that again.

It broke me.  It broke my closed off wall that I had been fortifying against my pain.  I know it has to happen.  I know I am going to have to deal with her being gone.  But I don't want to.  I'm not ready to tell her good bye.  If I refuse to do it, then it can't be true.

My armor is cracking.  I am sure that this is a relief to some people (Matthew in particular) who have been worried that I am about to slide in the wrong direction, and undo all the work Dr. Terry and I have been doing.  I don't know that that is the case.  But I don't really know how to do this.  How does one deal with their mom, their best friend...?  I keep trying to convince myself that there is no WRONG way to do this.

How is this the end?

My Mom is gone. On July 25th, she entered her eternal home.  My Mom is gone.  I can say it over and over and over again, but there is a part of my brain that will not allow me to make it real.  Dr. Terry says it is a part of the process.  A version of denial.  I have set aside the massive truth that my Mom is gone, and the enormity of that realization, in order to do what needs to be done today.  I was afraid I wasn't grieving correctly.  Is that possible?  I have not really cried.  I mean, I have cried but I haven't CRIED.  I haven't had that gut wrenching, body racking cry that I think the loss of my Mother deserves.  I am assured that there really is no WRONG way to grieve.  It is different for everyone.... 

I was there.  I watched her leave this world.  I watched her leave my life.  I told her to go.  I told her it was ok to go, and she did.  But I was lying.

It wasn't ok that she left me.  I am selfish, and I wasn't ok with her leaving me. I told her it was.  I didn't want her to hurt anymore.  But I didn't want her to leave.  I mean, I know that more reasonable people know that you never really want your mom to leave you. I love my Mom.  I'm selfish enough to want her to stay instead of having my heart ripped from my chest.  But I don't actually want her to suffer any more.  I don't know how to exist in this life without my Mom. 

That is not ENTIRELY true.  A mother spends her life teaching her children how to live in the world as independent adults.  But I don't think children, raised by a loving mother, are ever truly independent from her.  Its not possible. 

Before she left.  Before she was too far gone that she wouldn't respond.  Before she quit smiling when she heard my voice.  I made some promises. Promises that I will go to my grave to make sure they are fulfilled. I promised her I would take better care of myself.  I promised that I would work with Dr, Terry to deal with deep seated issues.  I promised some other things that will stay between her and me. 

I have a lot of work to do to keep those promises, but I will.

I will talk about the last two weeks at a different time.   Just like everything else, I am going to have to work this out through my words.  I can't lock it up and hope it goes away.  I have to let this loss destroy me, so that I can, once again, pick up the pieces and find a new way to fit them together.  One that honors her memory.  And honors the promises I have made to her on her deathbed.  If a Deathbed Promise to your own Mother is not a way to make sure you turn your life around, I don't know what is...

I don't want to think about her not being here.  I don't want to think about her boys missing their Ama.  I don't want to think about her life becoming a memory.  I don't want to think about the years I will have to live without my Mom.  So from today, tomorrow, next week, I will focus only on how to live today, tomorrow and maybe next week...doing what needs to be done.  One day at a time.  Then one day will become two and two will be three, and time will pass as it is known to do.  And as time passes I simply pray that the hurt will not be as raw. The loss will become a little less overwhelming.   I will always miss her.  I will always want to tell her about my day, or relay a funny story about the boys.  Every holiday and birthday will rip open that wound, that hole in my soul that she left behind. 

I have no cute salutation to end this one.