Monday, June 8, 2015

Two Steps Forward, A Billion Steps Back

I just read the last post I published and it was incredibly surreal.  I found myself searching the unending folds of my grey matter trying to find that place I was in where it seemed there was light, but to no avail.  I'm happy for "that" self of mine, that was able to experience a drop of joy in that moment.  It seems it's been deleted from the hard drive of my memory, or maybe those memory files have just been corrupted.  Who knows?  "Not I.", said the sad, weepy, lump staring at the LED screen.

Moving on...I realize that life is a series of steps and when tragedy strikes, or difficulties arise, it's baby steps - often the well known "two steps forward, three steps back".  Agreed.  Acceptable.  But, I was thrown by my most recent experience of two steps forward - MORTAR BLAST BACK!!

I can't even share what happened that exploded me into the black hole I ended up in - it's so crazy.  But, it's interesting to me that life after tragic happenings is ridiculously unpredictable.  I mean, life itself has always been somewhat unpredictable but not to such extremes.  The circumstances of life - that's been the unpredictable part, and sometimes, on occasion, other people.  But, I've been pretty predictable to myself.  I can usually see myself coming.  But not since November 2014...November 10th 2014 to be exact.  I have had no way of knowing how I will respond, react, interpret, consider, anything that is seen, heard, read, said, or done in my presence.  This is unnerving to me.  When I'm cleaning and setting up my sewing room and emptying out a drawer in the sewing table and I see this little skinny flat brown box with no markings and I lift the top to find bubble wrap covering a blue and pink iPhone case with the word love printed in cursive on it and I realize my daughter ordered this for her phone and never got to use it - I suddenly feel gutted and I fall into a heap of blubbering tears on the floor.  And now I'm no good for the rest of the afternoon and I can only crawl into my bed, hiding under my comforter, picturing her beautiful face, her big sweet smile, her soft voice - her face in front of mine and she's saying, "Momma, it's okay."  She said that a lot.  Her voice was bright but gentle and soothing with a warmness in it.  Most of the time, no matter what was happening, she'd say, "It's okay, don't worry."  But, it's not okay.  IT'S...NOT...OKAY!!!  I want her back!  Sometimes, when I'm alone, I scream this.  I scream it to whoever or whatever is out THERE that didn't intervene in this situation.  I WANT HER BACK!  I WANT HER BACK!  But, nothing.  Silence.  Not even an ounce of sympathy.  I wait.  It's no use, nobody is listening.  Nobody that can do anything anyway.  So, I sit for awhile until I can accept it enough to make me able to start functioning again.  Sometimes that's a few minutes.  Other times that's a few hours.  And on occasion, it's been a few days.  Initially, it was more like a few weeks, months.  It's been 7 months now since that tragic day when my beautiful daughter left this earth.  Why does it feel like it was only yesterday, or the day before?  My concept of time has been strangely altered since she left.  I really have no consistent awareness of time, at all!  It's weird. 

I had to compile photos of my 18yr. old daughter for her graduation ceremony.  I found an old hard drive that I worked my way into and came across a slew of folders filled with photos which my Hillary had taken of herself, her siblings, her friends...it was overwhelming.  I couldn't stop looking at them...ALL!  I was drowning in this sea of photos and memories but I couldn't help myself, nor did I want to.  I was drowning and I knew it but I didn't want to get out of the water.  I didn't want to close it down.  It was pain, tears, agony - yet I welcomed it.  But, it destroyed me for the rest of the day and a couple other days afterward.  I didn't get the photos collected that day of my graduating daughter.  Nope.  In fact, I didn't get anything else done that day.  This is how it goes.  From day to day, I never know what I'm going to face that is going to throw me into a tailspin.  And I don't know how to protect myself from it.  I don't know if I want to protect myself.  Maybe protect is a poor word choice here; maybe shield is more appropriate even though they carry somewhat of the same meaning.  In any case, I don't care what word I use - unlike my previous self - I don't care about a lot of things anymore.  But, whatever, I don't know the proper way of walking down this path.  Maybe there is no proper way.  Everyone is different.  Part of me feels that facing all these things head on, not avoiding or hiding from things that could trigger an episode of grieving is the best thing.  Grieve.  Cleanse.  Heal.  Yeah, true, but then there's other children that need me to be present for them.  There's work.  There's planning.  There's cleaning, cooking, washing.  There's living that needs to be done.  All of which would be almost impossible if I am wasted and in pieces from violent eruptions as I walk through the minefield of this life.

Enough.  I want to express, to get it out.  So much is filling up my head and putting pressure on my being but I can't do anymore right now.

Blinking cursor on "page" of white.  Later.

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