Temporary Yuck

I’ve procrastinated as much as possible this morning…putting off the time I dedicate to being still, hammering away at the keys as it often dredges up deep truths. Annoying, irritating, gritty truths.  I don’t have to count the days to know in my soul it’s that time of year…this time, three years ago, mom took a spiral decline and hours spent bedside simply were not enough. I know it’s that time…I don’t want to admit it, I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to think about it.  Keeping my schedule tightly packed, mind full of distracting thoughts, busy little brain…but still it pulls, rises, tugs and plucks, needing to be acknowledged. I don’t want to identify with sadness…a thousand other daughters have lost their mothers.  My head is satisfied with her loss…she suffered, fought, and I know exactly where she is and that I’ll see her again.  That should bring me enough peace.  I’m neither happy, sad, or mad, but still those emotions rise. I’m flat, un-bubbly, care-less. I prefer bubbly, approachable, chatty, smiley…just not feeling it today.  Or yesterday.  There’s so much to do this time of year, so much cheerful possibility…I’m angry at the process…the temporary yuck.  

Sucker Punch

It's the little things...the seemingly insignificant events that sucker punch while skipping oblivious thru the day. On a long overdue and lengthy drive to Westminster to check my questionable hearing, turning off the radio so I can listen to my own head thoughts completely unexpected Mom thoughts entered. My hearing has been a years-long issue that I've belittled and tried to self medicate, but it's pretty obvious that hearing is still lacking. Compensating with lip reading, but if not facing you, details are missed. Mom was worried, I was preoccupied. Rounding the corner into Westminster, I hear myself say how glad Mom would be that I'm finally following thru. Then realization that I can't call her to relieve her fears. Heaviness settles on the heart and stomach when I remember I no longer have a Mom. That I'm the sad member of the single parent club.

Later in the week, while shaking the guest bed comforter over the deck to scare off any stray puppy hairs, the sun caught the floating dust, fibers, particles and I remembered Mom was last to lay under that comforter. Little pieces of her floating away. It's silly, but it made me cry. Usually saved for the safety of my inner sanctum, I felt so exposed with the air hitting my wet lids. Would the neighbor think I'm loosing it? Will she think I'm weak? Will it provide yet another story for the gossip chain? Deep breath, drying eyes, task continued...stopping when needed and not caring who saw. This grief thing is pretty universal and if it hasn't hit your world yet, I'm thankful, but just wait. It'll tip your cart, too.

Tomorrow, I head south with friends to soak in the Myrtle Beach sunshine...fearful that I'll receive another unexpected sucker punch and deflate or that I'll be an uber buzz-kill. Packing my running shoes because they seem to help shake off the funk. Preparing for guests, the lack of recent sunshine, and one week into Claratin for the hearing issues has made me a zombie. I'm ready for some vitamin D, hearty belly laughs, and perhaps a few adult beverages.

 

  

Challenge - Mother's Day

This first week of May, counting down to Mother's Day, was filled with nervous expectation... similar to facing a massive cavity fill.  Knowing it would pinch, sear, ache but there was nothing you could do to stop it.  A year of first's then perhaps the ache would cease.  Saturday found me cheering on the sidelines in a day full of baseball games.  Not quite 100%... a little off.  Sitting in the glaring sun, no nearby trees, I spotted several Maple tree spinners spiral from the sky...gifts from Mom.  My family home has a massive Maple that drops ungodly amounts of seedlings, spinners, helicopters.  So
overwhelming and annoying.  Leaving so much to sweep that once, my Mom even attempted to vacuum them up.  It didn't fare so well for the vacuum.  I knew right away my little heaven sent spinners were a little inside joke. 

Mothers day came with an all day heaviness.  Head not even off pillow and tears falling.  Dear friends sent early texts checking on me, sending love.  Twenty-four hours of that forgetful belly-ache...as if I'd forgotten to call her then the sad realization that I no longer had that task. 

On a high note, Tim gave me the best distraction ever...tickets to see Prince that Mother's Day in Baltimore.  For the first time in months, I was excited, thrilled, cheering, smiling, I may or may not have even shed a few excited-fan-style tears of joy.  It was great evening.  I am truly blessed with a thoughtful hubby!

Four months have passed and I worry I'm sounding like a broken record...how much time is acceptable to grieve before friends and family have had enough?  When does the happy-guilt end?  This writing, it has become my therapy.  If I am helping anyone in this process it's myself...anyone else is simply a welcome ride-along. 

Challenge - Week Five

Finding balance between frantic busy-ness and depressed lethargy.  Last week, I was at both spectrums...sometimes both in one day. This week, I sought a happy medium.  Shifting gears to slow or speed as needed.  It would be so much easier to just stay in bed, curl up with the pup, close eyes and listen to the wind.  Motivation is low most days, but realizing things simply must get done, I make myself do it anyway. Didn't feel like making dinner, do it anyway. Didn't feel like making conversation with friends, do it anyway.  Didn't feel like cleaning or doing bills, do it anyway.  At some point, my arms were moving, words were spilling out, mind was active and I was enjoying myself. I allowed myself one tear-filled, bummer of a day and then pulled on my big-girl panties.   Until I discover my new 'normal', I will do it anyway. 

This week, I'm making happy spaces at home.  Decluttering and Spring cleaning, I find myself drifting thru rooms sorting, pulling, pitching.  Sorting Mom's stuff proved overwhelming...one that inspires selective intention with those items I surround myself with. Items without a purpose or that no longer bring joy were donated or sold.  Tim says I'm organizing as if I was dying.  Still working on that 'happy medium'. 

Quite content to stay in my jammies all day, I rallied and enjoyed dinner with friends.  It proved a grand surprise....uplifting chatter, speaking words of praise, sweet confirmations all around.  No gossip, no slander, not one negative word.  Contagious...each woman wanted to add something to sweeten the pot.  Returned home filled to the brim and craving more. 

Still working on that balance, seeking that happy medium.  When to speak, when to be quiet.  When to be still, and when to move.  Normal, everyday decisions now taking on a more elevated purpose. A constant renewing of the mind to listen for that still, small voice so that everything is done with love. Love for my family, my friends, my self. 

Challenge - Week Four - The Wall

Productive, manic, empty best describe my week. Most days I felt tired down to my soul. Constantly yawning, yet early to bed, even Tim has noticed I'm off. Those days with extra energy, I frantically attacked every task...riding the wave before it would crash. Trying to be as productive as possible...vigorously cleaning, making long lists, purging clutter, trying to find some semblance of order.

Then I hit the wall.

Wednesday, there was no joy to be found. Exhausted, no desire to smile, no bliss found even in the things that typically bring me happiness. Just blah. Wondering if these long months of sadness for Mom has made me forget what it feels like to be consistently happy? Did I not leave any space for mourning? Keeping myself busy, busy, busy so I won't have to feel? Busily redecorating my surroundings in hopes it will also stir my soul? Tim practically had to pry the vacuum out of my hand and suggest I take a long, hot bath. Friends suspicious when I say I'm doing just fine. I actually said I don't think about her.

What I can't fix, I clean. When I can't control, I cook. My to-do list lengthens by the second and my mental queue spins wildly. Afraid to start crying for fear I won't stop.

Today, I will leave time to be still. Just listen. Breathe. Cry if I must, showing myself some grace. This, too, shall pass. But when it passes, what will remain?

 

 

Challenge - Week Two

 Perfectly content to hibernate indoors, hidden away from people, quietly cleaning and organizing...Each day this week, I had to push past my comfy default to get out of the house, meet people, speak to others... a constant renewing of the mind to speak only positive, to move forward, seeking joy, spreading love. It doesn't always come naturally...but any good thing requires work. So, each day I gave myself a little pep talk...get out there, talk, listen, share, love. Moving in the right direction, until I owned it.

My week was looking pretty phenomenal until the busy days closed in and I worried I had over-booked. One event stacked after another, until the universe intervened and snow canceled most plans leaving only the most important. I savored a long lunch and shopping with a friend, played some killer ping-pong, cheered daughter's first sports banquet, comforted a mourning friend, and listened as a brave friend poured out her difficult history to a room full of young moms. I searched and found some cute furniture to tidy up a few more piles, and helped Tim paint more of the basement (relieved he decided to keep the color). Each venture filled my cup, leaving me better off than I started. Hoping that I was able to give as much as I received.

Each day was a new struggle, however. A new opportunity to choose sadness or joy, dark or light. Not depression, but close. However, a special someone  is struggling desperately with depression...finding it difficult each day to peel back the covers and place her feet on solid ground. Attempting to fill the void with food, weepy and sleepy most of the day. Your mind and body scream stay put...fight it, sweet girl. You are meant for more than this. Rise, find some small thing to be thankful for, put one foot in front of the other and live. Don't merely exist. Make connections, find something that brings you joy, breathe, pray, move. This, too, shall pass.

Therapy

Saving the world must temporarily wait as I'm in the middle of a massive Self-Examination. Mom's eulogy detailed how closely she lived according to the Love is Patient, Love is Kind guidelines. Am I patient? Am I kind? I'd like to think the majority of the time I am. Am I slow to anger? Do I keep no record of wrongs? Hmmm. Don't let Tim answer that one. If the greatest of all things is Love, am I living up to the challenge?

95% of the time I am full of joy and cheer. The balance are my yuck days. Days I don't feel like doing anything, much rather stay in bed days. I wonder sometimes if it's depression. In my happy cycle, I'm effective, organized, on point. In the other cycle, I carry loads of 'I don't wannas'. Unmotivated to do any task. My dad often stares into oblivion. I click my fingers to awaken him and he travels back from wherever he was lodged.

I recently found myself staring as well.

It's comfortable. I'm looking but not seeing. Protecting. Insulating. Not thinking of anything...barely breathing. Hoping it's just a side effect of recent events and I return to my happy 95%. I can see why my Dad so often finds solace in sleep. You don't think, you don't feel. Those first few moments of sleep-filled peace before your eyes open are so sweet. Then awareness seeps in and familiar thoughts return. I remember again and it consumes me another day. Happy moments followed by realization then sadness. One vicious cycle that I'm sure will slow. It's not who I am...it's just where I am at the moment. I wonder if my Dad will ever become aware of his depression...will he actively fight it? Or will he choose to remain far, far away?

Until recently, I was a very angry girl.

I carried a lot of negative energy towards the choices my Dad made. I couldn't understand why he lived by such a different definition of love. Visibly upset years ago, he expressed that he wished he had been around more when we were younger. Still, he chose to remain in an all consuming hobby of a job that never supported the family. In my mind, he chose the store over me. He chose the store

over my Mom. His decision required Mom to work long hours. The bottom line is that it created a very angry Lisa. One that didn't want to travel down to visit. One that treated her husband who once reminded her of her bubbly father as suddenly sub-par when the daddy bubble burst. One that didn't want to communicate with her far-off family.

I had the pleasure of meeting a dear lady that taught me that we don't need to carry others consequences. Basically let them own their own stuff. (ok, so she said a different word..). I can only live my life the best way I can based on current knowledge and they must do the same. In the process, their definition might be completely different. His definition of love is completely different than mine....and I'm learning to be satisfied with that. The anger is slowly departing. It was never mine to carry, I just picked it up along the way by mistake.

So, now you have a mildly depressed, angry image of Lisa...not quite the bubbly, cheerful image I present every day. I am ridiculously blessed to have a husband that thinks I wear a crown, and children that make me proud every single day. It makes me wonder, however...how many others are walking around behind a mask? Building, maintaining and presenting a front for everyone to make their life appear content, healthy, joy-filled, “normal”, meanwhile covering deep pain.

I enjoyed the company of a room full of friends and strangers this weekend and looking around, I considered how many others are dealing with pain, hurt, disappointment, illness, anger, depression, abuse. The pain options become endless. Overwhelming.

I will start by loving myself...accepting my imperfection, appreciating every moment...and when I have my 5% days, I will show myself Grace. Only then, can I show and share love with every person that God places in my path. Showing love....one imperfect person at a time.