Funny thing, this.
Ever since a few days before the anniversary, I feel like I've adjusted. I've become an adult with only one living parent. It's just been me and Dad and my siblings for a year. I'm no longer counting the months; now it's "over a year ago" or "last year." Next you it will be "two years ago." In time it'll be, "when I was thirty" perhaps because I can't smoothly calculate how long it has been. I'm now free to make "big changes" per the recommendations of Hospice's bereavement team suggestions. All of the "firsts" have been hit, as far as annual events. The world has moved on and though I'll always miss her, I'm ready to, as well. I feel that I've adjusted.
Grief isn't really linear and there will undoubtedly still be times of soul-crushing sorrow and angst, especially if/when I get married and have babies. But--for the moment--I feel that I'm "used to it" now. I feel that I've adjusted. I feel free to carry on and my motivation is returning.
I lost my cats. I lost my Mom. I may soon lose my Grandparents. Dad still has a statistically higher probability of dying in the next year, but please God forbid. My business is doing better than it ever has. I just paid off a major debt, and that gives me hope for the rest of them, and my ability to climb out of personal poverty in the next year or two, maybe! All of this, without my Mom. It makes me sad... but I'm okay. That's how it goes. She is not gone, she just isn't here.
Moving on.
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Mother Fast is still going, I promise
I often describe an event earlier in my life as having "taken the wind out of my sails". It was a heart-breaking incident that caused me to lose all forward momentum in my life and toward a goal. I redirected my course and found what I needed, more than I had imagined, and for that I'm grateful virtually every day. Still, I lost propulsion, lost power.
Looking at the past year of my life and the deceleration I've experienced again in areas I'm passionate about, I wonder if things haven't so much "taken the wind out of my sails" as "blown holes" in them. The storms of life have ripped holes in my sails and made it difficult to make headway and steer where I want to go. The Mother Fast has been one of the things that has suffered, I'm afraid. Mothers have been a difficult subject for me for obvious reasons.
I have this stubborn pride thing where I don't like my motives to be... apparent... or guessable. I don't like to be predictable. I might fail at it, but I don't like it. And I really hate it when I think someone might look down on me for it. So, when I entered a time of Mothering crisis and grief in my personal life, I didn't want anyone to stumble on this venture and go "Stupid girl, she just misses her Mom and she's trying to replace her with Heavenly Mother. Her personal struggle isn't a good enough reason to try and change the way the Church works!"
Mothers are a big thing for me, you see. My first one gave me up for reasons unknown to me, except that a divorce was involved. I was cared for by a foster mother for a short time before I came to my real mother. And I grew up knowing of a Heavenly Mother, but knowing very little about her... kind of like my birth mother. I ached for years to become a mother of many myself, and I surrounded myself with fertility and pregnancy and birth in order to be around and serve mothers. I have mothered countless friends. Even now, when I look at children and sometimes wonder if I really want to take that challenge on, I mainly question whether I'd really make a good mother, or if I'm too exhausted from caring for adults to have much left to dedicate to children. Mothering matters to me, tremendously. I don't want some monstrous, heartless, "well-meaning", self-righteous internet troll to come stamping up to the walls of my Mother shrine and graffitiing it with judgment and a conservative attitude toward upholding the traditions of patriarchy.
So I've hidden in my silence and floundered in the hurricane of my grief and confusion, the chaos that has enveloped my life for the past twelve months. I've failed to fast so many times out of forgetfulness or neglect or just not feeling up to withholding whatever form of nourishment sustained me. I've felt like a failure, like I wasn't doing my part in the struggle for equality and balance and hope for a better future. I've had to be very compassionate with myself.
I'm not saying I'm ready to go roaring in, banners high, sails mended and billowing in the wind. But I'm here, as battered by the storms as I am. I still love my Mothers. I need Mothers in my house, above and below, and I miss them in their absence. Hopefully tomorrow, I'll be strong enough to fast, again.
Rumor has it women will be praying in General Conference. That, too, gives me hope. :)
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
The firsts are almost over
Life has been and continues to be difficult of late. January and February were very hard, financially. (Note to self: Don't take an "extravagant" trip to Vegas right before your worst two months of the year.) I made it through only by the grace of God, angels, and a bare handful of clients. Now that March is looking up, financially, I am entering the hardest nine weeks of this first year.
By this time a year ago, we knew that Mom was going to go home. The nine weeks that followed until after her memorial were fraught with mixed emotions, both difficult and precious. This is the final round of Firsts. We survived the first holiday season, the first birthdays, the first summer... It has to get better from there, right? We'll get used to feeling a little lost without her, used to regretting the conversations we never had, used to overcoming the impulse to cry, and used to wishing she was around.
Often time it feel like I'm chest deep in manure. I can still breathe and speak and move my arms about; and there's flowers growing all around me, beautiful and brightly colored, with heady perfumes that make me happy and mask the stench of shit. It makes it easier to endure, gives me reasons to be grateful, even if it doesn't change to the fundamental nature of the situation. I find myself grieving more than just my mother's death these days. I grieve many things. There's a lot to hold space for, and sometimes it doesn't feel like there's enough space to hand space in.
By this time a year ago, we knew that Mom was going to go home. The nine weeks that followed until after her memorial were fraught with mixed emotions, both difficult and precious. This is the final round of Firsts. We survived the first holiday season, the first birthdays, the first summer... It has to get better from there, right? We'll get used to feeling a little lost without her, used to regretting the conversations we never had, used to overcoming the impulse to cry, and used to wishing she was around.
Often time it feel like I'm chest deep in manure. I can still breathe and speak and move my arms about; and there's flowers growing all around me, beautiful and brightly colored, with heady perfumes that make me happy and mask the stench of shit. It makes it easier to endure, gives me reasons to be grateful, even if it doesn't change to the fundamental nature of the situation. I find myself grieving more than just my mother's death these days. I grieve many things. There's a lot to hold space for, and sometimes it doesn't feel like there's enough space to hand space in.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Breakdown
The past few weeks have kind of been hell for me. I thought they were going to be fantastic and exciting. Instead, they peaked last night with a normally non-violent person clobbering the ever-loving crap out of her car visor and shattering the mirror she forgot existed.
I moved my business this week from the location I had been in for nearly three years. The new place is a huge blessing and I'm grateful, but this has stirred up a serious shitpile in my head and in my heart. From mis/lack-of-communication with my new business partner to stupid people at my part-time other job to change.... change, change, everywhere. Tattoos. Business moving and adjusting. I could use a new phone and I'm not eligible for another 5 months. Becoming a fill-in bridesmaid.
I have never done massage for another person one day in the past eight years... now I'm an independent contractor in a place I don't own, and that's weird.
And I miss Mom. I miss Mom so badly it burns. I had a slow meltdown although yesterday during work. Luckily it was at my part-time job and not during massage. The past few weeks, I've been drifting in this weird space of dormant spirituality, spiritual numbness. I didn't talk to Mom. I barely acknowledged Father and Mother outside of "Hi" and "Thank you." I felt virtually nothing coming back. All I have felt was a growing ambivalence about all things perky-happy-Mormon-y. Things I used to enjoy a couple years ago. Now there's just ambivalence and distance and anger and sorrow and pain. I even started to question my sexuality as I found myself yearning for female closeness and feeling disgruntled and disenfranchised by maleness in general. I even noticed that my recent blog posts have been overwhelmingly pissy. Then yesterday, a simple question that shouldn't have sent me reeling like a drunkard tipped me into a downward spiral and left me barely getting through my work day without wanting to rip a customer's head off. I wasn't really very safe to be behind the wheel getting home, either... I probably should not have been driving. Only by the grade of God did I get home in one piece without hurting anyone else.
It's kinda good in a way, though. I've been wondering why I wasn't mourning. Why wasn't I having to excuse my behavior because I missed my Mom? I'm a person with depressive tendencies, but I was generally happy as a clam and chugging toward a new phase of life. I guess I was just waiting for a catalyst to tip me over. It'll be interesting to see where things go from here... I might even blog about some happier things eventually. Hopefully we can all hang in there together.
Oh yeah. Mother Fast is this weekend. Go forth and fast and pray for Mother. I feel like I'll actually want to this month, finally.
I moved my business this week from the location I had been in for nearly three years. The new place is a huge blessing and I'm grateful, but this has stirred up a serious shitpile in my head and in my heart. From mis/lack-of-communication with my new business partner to stupid people at my part-time other job to change.... change, change, everywhere. Tattoos. Business moving and adjusting. I could use a new phone and I'm not eligible for another 5 months. Becoming a fill-in bridesmaid.
I have never done massage for another person one day in the past eight years... now I'm an independent contractor in a place I don't own, and that's weird.
And I miss Mom. I miss Mom so badly it burns. I had a slow meltdown although yesterday during work. Luckily it was at my part-time job and not during massage. The past few weeks, I've been drifting in this weird space of dormant spirituality, spiritual numbness. I didn't talk to Mom. I barely acknowledged Father and Mother outside of "Hi" and "Thank you." I felt virtually nothing coming back. All I have felt was a growing ambivalence about all things perky-happy-Mormon-y. Things I used to enjoy a couple years ago. Now there's just ambivalence and distance and anger and sorrow and pain. I even started to question my sexuality as I found myself yearning for female closeness and feeling disgruntled and disenfranchised by maleness in general. I even noticed that my recent blog posts have been overwhelmingly pissy. Then yesterday, a simple question that shouldn't have sent me reeling like a drunkard tipped me into a downward spiral and left me barely getting through my work day without wanting to rip a customer's head off. I wasn't really very safe to be behind the wheel getting home, either... I probably should not have been driving. Only by the grade of God did I get home in one piece without hurting anyone else.
It's kinda good in a way, though. I've been wondering why I wasn't mourning. Why wasn't I having to excuse my behavior because I missed my Mom? I'm a person with depressive tendencies, but I was generally happy as a clam and chugging toward a new phase of life. I guess I was just waiting for a catalyst to tip me over. It'll be interesting to see where things go from here... I might even blog about some happier things eventually. Hopefully we can all hang in there together.
Oh yeah. Mother Fast is this weekend. Go forth and fast and pray for Mother. I feel like I'll actually want to this month, finally.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Milk after meat
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players,
They have their exits and entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.
At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms
....
Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
--William Shakespeare
I wanted this to be a super smart post contrasting two observations; the first being that after a long life of eating "meat", my Mom now survives on a primarily liquid diet of Ensure, jello, water, and milk, and never very much of any; the second being that many times, after a long life of living on spiritual "meat", we all still need the milk at times, that sometimes we need rest from being bogged down in the "thick of thin things" of culture and society and practice vs doctrine..
I wanted it to be, but I have to leave it at that for now and trust my readers to make their own contemplations on the matter. Time is too short now to do much that I don't feel like doing, and I don't feel like a long post today. The confusion has set in. She's hardly eating. She spends the majority of her time in bed. She surfaces sometimes, but other times, she doesn't understand what's going on, why there's so many cards and flowers and visitors. She wonders who's sick and what people aren't telling her.
We celebrated Mother's Day yesterday (Earth Day = Love Your Mother = We do, but she might not be here for the official Mother's Day) and she got to talk to all of her kids. My sister was in town this weekend, and my brother and his husband came to visit yesterday, and our other brother called in and will be here next weekend.
Today, we had to tell her that she (and her brother, who was visiting when she last asked) are sick with cancer and that it's taking over her body. She still didn't understand, and wanted to know what we were leaving out. I had to tell her she was going to go see her mother and father soon. She looked at me with a little surprise, but she understood. She knew that meant the time wouldn't be long. Then she observed, "This is totally strange."
It is. It must be, to realize that you're quickly coming to the end of your journey, and you're having to say goodbye to everyone you love.
And all the men and women merely players,
They have their exits and entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.
At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms
....
Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
--William Shakespeare
I wanted this to be a super smart post contrasting two observations; the first being that after a long life of eating "meat", my Mom now survives on a primarily liquid diet of Ensure, jello, water, and milk, and never very much of any; the second being that many times, after a long life of living on spiritual "meat", we all still need the milk at times, that sometimes we need rest from being bogged down in the "thick of thin things" of culture and society and practice vs doctrine..
I wanted it to be, but I have to leave it at that for now and trust my readers to make their own contemplations on the matter. Time is too short now to do much that I don't feel like doing, and I don't feel like a long post today. The confusion has set in. She's hardly eating. She spends the majority of her time in bed. She surfaces sometimes, but other times, she doesn't understand what's going on, why there's so many cards and flowers and visitors. She wonders who's sick and what people aren't telling her.
We celebrated Mother's Day yesterday (Earth Day = Love Your Mother = We do, but she might not be here for the official Mother's Day) and she got to talk to all of her kids. My sister was in town this weekend, and my brother and his husband came to visit yesterday, and our other brother called in and will be here next weekend.
Today, we had to tell her that she (and her brother, who was visiting when she last asked) are sick with cancer and that it's taking over her body. She still didn't understand, and wanted to know what we were leaving out. I had to tell her she was going to go see her mother and father soon. She looked at me with a little surprise, but she understood. She knew that meant the time wouldn't be long. Then she observed, "This is totally strange."
It is. It must be, to realize that you're quickly coming to the end of your journey, and you're having to say goodbye to everyone you love.
suckitude...
Friday, April 20, 2012
Tired...
It's a quarter to four in the morning. I'm tired and I have work in about seven hours but I don't want to go to sleep. I haven't been wanting to sleep lately. My diet has gone to crap. I seem to be punishing my body. This is what I do to dull the pain. Some people cut, some do drugs, some drink; apparently, I stay up and eat. I know it's not healthy and it doesn't even feel good, but I can't seem to find the will to rest.
I'm tired. Generally, genuinely tired. I know I'm depressed. I'm not handling this well at all. I didn't even Facebook Fast last weekend. My life activities seem to be pulling into a singularity: Be around for Mom.
Thing is... Mom's pretty much gone. Not entirely, but she's definitely not there like she was. She takes too long to answer questions most of the time, if she answers them at all. She's begun arguing over taking medication. She barely has the energy to get herself to the bathroom. I'm going to help her shower in the morning, another reason I should be asleep instead of blogging. I want her to try medical marijuana so she'll freaking eat something. Dad and I wonder if she'll starve herself before the cancer gets her, she eats so little--not even a full glass of milk or bowl of jello or soup in a full day.
As Dad said, I don't want to pray her through the veil, but I don't want her to suffer, either. I haven't had time to release everything pent up inside of me in weeks, and my doctor is concerned about my latest blood tests. I don't have time for this, but I can't seem to stop it from happening. I've already withdrawn from most of my life for the time being. I know that's not healthy, either.
This was never covered in school.
I'm tired. Generally, genuinely tired. I know I'm depressed. I'm not handling this well at all. I didn't even Facebook Fast last weekend. My life activities seem to be pulling into a singularity: Be around for Mom.
Thing is... Mom's pretty much gone. Not entirely, but she's definitely not there like she was. She takes too long to answer questions most of the time, if she answers them at all. She's begun arguing over taking medication. She barely has the energy to get herself to the bathroom. I'm going to help her shower in the morning, another reason I should be asleep instead of blogging. I want her to try medical marijuana so she'll freaking eat something. Dad and I wonder if she'll starve herself before the cancer gets her, she eats so little--not even a full glass of milk or bowl of jello or soup in a full day.
As Dad said, I don't want to pray her through the veil, but I don't want her to suffer, either. I haven't had time to release everything pent up inside of me in weeks, and my doctor is concerned about my latest blood tests. I don't have time for this, but I can't seem to stop it from happening. I've already withdrawn from most of my life for the time being. I know that's not healthy, either.
This was never covered in school.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
I don't know what to call this post
So.... my beloved cat, Topsy, died on the First of the month. I'd had him/He'd had me since some time about 1999 or so. He was an outdoor cat, semi-feral, very friendly and sweet, though clearly with a past of having been abused by someone. Something happened to him neurologically--his body was still healthy--and he deteriorated rapidly to the point where I had to make the decision to end his suffering and have him euthanized.
As if that didn't suck enough.
Today (yesterday now... it's after midnight) the results from my Mom's latest PET scan came in. Today-today is exactly six months since I first posted about her cancer, and almost five months since musing in grief that she could be gone in six...
Now, it's everywhere. God in Heaven, it's everywhere. It's everywhere inside her. There's too many spots. It's in her bones, in her muscles, her organs... and even a tiny spot between the hemispheres of her brain. There's nothing more that can be done except to make sure she's comfortable and take as much advantage of the time we have while we can.
She has hardly gotten out of bed since Sunday morning and she has a horrible time concentrating or remembering... or communicating. She'll start to say something and stop after a few words, and just go silent. Half the time she forgets that she spoke at all. When something's really on her mind, she repeats and reaffirms it over and over again. "I'm okay." "I love you." "He [my Dad] needs to be strong." It's very similar to the way my Grandma (Dad's Mom) is now with her dementia. She has been in a care home for a year and a half now. Mom won't have that long.
The last "big" things she did on Saturday before this began was having a Five Guys burger for dinner after the PET scan (having such an appetite has been a big deal, lately) and standing by to support me as I buried Topsy in the yard. Her oncologist says she likely has months (rather than weeks and rather than years) and there's talk about bringing in Hospice soon. Hospice has been mentioned for my Grandpa as well, who's living with congestive heart failure and has been in and out of hospitals and care facilities since Christmas.
We probably won't make it over to my sister's for blessing my baby niece, so they may come here instead. If it can happen in our home ward and Mom feels up to go to Sacrament meeting, wonderful! If she doesn't, we will do it here at home.
I'm sure there's many philosophical and spiritual things to be said here about life and death, change, transition, and the eternal nature of the soul. There is. I just can't say it right now. I can't. I'm numb with spurts of anguish. I'm adjusting to the loss of my cat okay. I hope I can do comparably well for the coming loss of my Mother and Grandfather. I hope I can find or be given strength to let my Dad be weak when he needs to be weak.
Oh God, what am I going to do....
Today (yesterday now... it's after midnight) the results from my Mom's latest PET scan came in. Today-today is exactly six months since I first posted about her cancer, and almost five months since musing in grief that she could be gone in six...
Now, it's everywhere. God in Heaven, it's everywhere. It's everywhere inside her. There's too many spots. It's in her bones, in her muscles, her organs... and even a tiny spot between the hemispheres of her brain. There's nothing more that can be done except to make sure she's comfortable and take as much advantage of the time we have while we can.
She has hardly gotten out of bed since Sunday morning and she has a horrible time concentrating or remembering... or communicating. She'll start to say something and stop after a few words, and just go silent. Half the time she forgets that she spoke at all. When something's really on her mind, she repeats and reaffirms it over and over again. "I'm okay." "I love you." "He [my Dad] needs to be strong." It's very similar to the way my Grandma (Dad's Mom) is now with her dementia. She has been in a care home for a year and a half now. Mom won't have that long.
The last "big" things she did on Saturday before this began was having a Five Guys burger for dinner after the PET scan (having such an appetite has been a big deal, lately) and standing by to support me as I buried Topsy in the yard. Her oncologist says she likely has months (rather than weeks and rather than years) and there's talk about bringing in Hospice soon. Hospice has been mentioned for my Grandpa as well, who's living with congestive heart failure and has been in and out of hospitals and care facilities since Christmas.
We probably won't make it over to my sister's for blessing my baby niece, so they may come here instead. If it can happen in our home ward and Mom feels up to go to Sacrament meeting, wonderful! If she doesn't, we will do it here at home.
I'm sure there's many philosophical and spiritual things to be said here about life and death, change, transition, and the eternal nature of the soul. There is. I just can't say it right now. I can't. I'm numb with spurts of anguish. I'm adjusting to the loss of my cat okay. I hope I can do comparably well for the coming loss of my Mother and Grandfather. I hope I can find or be given strength to let my Dad be weak when he needs to be weak.
Oh God, what am I going to do....
Thursday, October 13, 2011
I need my Mother
Fairly early on in my Daughters of Mormonism episode about the Mother Fast, as part of recounting my history with the Church and my life in it, I mentioned that I was adopted at birth. Sybil then asked if I thought part of my reasoning behind starting the Fast was because I was adopted and whether I felt like I was reaching out for that lost connection. At the time I answered no, and I still think that answer is true (though who knows what motivations are triggered in the subconscious? That's why it's subconscious.) I feel far more affected by my adoption than my sister does--she forgot to even mention it to her husband until their first tithing settlement and he noticed the sealing date on her record--and while I often think about my birth mother, I truly am happy in the life and family that I have and I can't imagine a better one. It might be a tiny contributing factor, but maybe.... there's a more obvious one.
I alluded before (is it allusion when it's pretty much straight up?) to the fact that my mother has cancer: melanoma to be precise. And it sucks. We've been dealing with this in some way, shape, or form for almost two years now and it's just... not getting better. The treatments she just finished may still take another month or two to really start showing results; meanwhile her most recent scan indicated significant tumor growth since the scan that told us the cancer was back. They're talking about radiating one of the tumors, but even then there's two more, one of which is in her lung and she has already done all of the chest radiation her body can take. Ever. It's no longer an option. Neither is surgery. Chemo isn't very effective for melanoma. She wants to live past the time when my niece is born enough so that no one ever thinks, "It's her birthday, and this is the time we we lost her Grandma." My niece is "due" in early-mid January. In theory, my Mom could be gone in six months. I wasn't thinking it could be that soon.
I need my mother. I need my Mother. I conceived the Fast not long after Mom and Dad told us about the cancer's return. Maybe part of my motivation for this search for Heavenly Mother is because I can't stand the thought of losing my Mom. We already lost her Mom when I was seven. I lost a woman I saw as something of a second Mom in my teens. I've never known my birth mother.
One of my best friends lost her Mom when she was a young child, only three or four years old. I can't even imagine that kind of loss. I can't. Even when my Mom passes on, at least I'll be an adult. Still, I don't know what I'll do. I feel badly because people lose their mothers every day. People go through this grief all the time. I don't want to be one of them, but I will be and I don't know how I'm going to endure it.
I had planned to start saving to move into town right before we found out. Now the idea makes me sick to my stomach. I don't want to go away, but I need to. My adultness needs to, and I know she understands that; but my childness needs all the time it can get with her. And if I fail to move until after she's gone? I'll leave my Dad alone in an empty house that he just might feel the need to sell at that point, and with it would go over two decades of memories.
My thoughts have just come to a screeching, messy stop with stuff tumbling over itself out of order and scattering across the floor. I guess it's time to stop. I just really... I need my Mother. I need my Mother.
Cancer sucks. Patriarchy sucks. I need my Mothers.
I alluded before (is it allusion when it's pretty much straight up?) to the fact that my mother has cancer: melanoma to be precise. And it sucks. We've been dealing with this in some way, shape, or form for almost two years now and it's just... not getting better. The treatments she just finished may still take another month or two to really start showing results; meanwhile her most recent scan indicated significant tumor growth since the scan that told us the cancer was back. They're talking about radiating one of the tumors, but even then there's two more, one of which is in her lung and she has already done all of the chest radiation her body can take. Ever. It's no longer an option. Neither is surgery. Chemo isn't very effective for melanoma. She wants to live past the time when my niece is born enough so that no one ever thinks, "It's her birthday, and this is the time we we lost her Grandma." My niece is "due" in early-mid January. In theory, my Mom could be gone in six months. I wasn't thinking it could be that soon.
I need my mother. I need my Mother. I conceived the Fast not long after Mom and Dad told us about the cancer's return. Maybe part of my motivation for this search for Heavenly Mother is because I can't stand the thought of losing my Mom. We already lost her Mom when I was seven. I lost a woman I saw as something of a second Mom in my teens. I've never known my birth mother.
One of my best friends lost her Mom when she was a young child, only three or four years old. I can't even imagine that kind of loss. I can't. Even when my Mom passes on, at least I'll be an adult. Still, I don't know what I'll do. I feel badly because people lose their mothers every day. People go through this grief all the time. I don't want to be one of them, but I will be and I don't know how I'm going to endure it.
I had planned to start saving to move into town right before we found out. Now the idea makes me sick to my stomach. I don't want to go away, but I need to. My adultness needs to, and I know she understands that; but my childness needs all the time it can get with her. And if I fail to move until after she's gone? I'll leave my Dad alone in an empty house that he just might feel the need to sell at that point, and with it would go over two decades of memories.
My thoughts have just come to a screeching, messy stop with stuff tumbling over itself out of order and scattering across the floor. I guess it's time to stop. I just really... I need my Mother. I need my Mother.
Cancer sucks. Patriarchy sucks. I need my Mothers.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Sorry, gotta go off-topic for a minute
I gotta say it somewhere. Pardon my French, but...
CANCER SUCKS.
It sucks for everyone. It sucks for the person with cancer and it sucks for the people taking care of them. It sucks for friends who feels powerless to do anything. It sucks for family members who have to watch their loved one fight it.
Treatment sucks.
Doctor visits suck.
Side effects suck BIG. TIME.
I hate cancer. I hate what fighting it is doing to my mother. I hate what the stress is doing to my family and myself. I hate that I'm probably going to lose my Mommy years earlier than I thought. I HATE that whatever there is about me that leaves me single means that--with no one currently on the horizon--I may eventually only have my mother with me in spirit when/if I do get married. I hate that because I've long felt like the one between my sister and I whose "job" it was to give our parents granddaughters (since she has all boys), now that my sister is having a girl, if I am totally honest, I feel like I have failed my Mom because my sister "had" to take over that duty. (I know that's probably not the case and I've taken it all on myself, but that's my reality nevertheless.)
I can't/won't drop the F-bomb myself ("sucks" is an evolution in vocabulary for me) so I'm going to let XKCD do it for me. (A worthwhile look even if profanity offends you. Choose to get over it for two minutes and click the link. Believe me: the profanity applies.)
Cancer. Sucks.
CANCER SUCKS.
It sucks for everyone. It sucks for the person with cancer and it sucks for the people taking care of them. It sucks for friends who feels powerless to do anything. It sucks for family members who have to watch their loved one fight it.
Treatment sucks.
Doctor visits suck.
Side effects suck BIG. TIME.
I hate cancer. I hate what fighting it is doing to my mother. I hate what the stress is doing to my family and myself. I hate that I'm probably going to lose my Mommy years earlier than I thought. I HATE that whatever there is about me that leaves me single means that--with no one currently on the horizon--I may eventually only have my mother with me in spirit when/if I do get married. I hate that because I've long felt like the one between my sister and I whose "job" it was to give our parents granddaughters (since she has all boys), now that my sister is having a girl, if I am totally honest, I feel like I have failed my Mom because my sister "had" to take over that duty. (I know that's probably not the case and I've taken it all on myself, but that's my reality nevertheless.)
I can't/won't drop the F-bomb myself ("sucks" is an evolution in vocabulary for me) so I'm going to let XKCD do it for me. (A worthwhile look even if profanity offends you. Choose to get over it for two minutes and click the link. Believe me: the profanity applies.)
Cancer. Sucks.
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