Day 11

I suffer from these brief weekends, the tearing up of the roots of love, and from my own inability to behave better under the stress. The poem is about silence, that it is really only there that lovers can know what they know, and there what they know is deep, nourishing, nourishing to the palms of the hands and the soles of the feet.

Brief weekends - yes. workdays can be hard. It's good because I get immersed in projects and use my brain and am drawn back into the world, feeling vital and connected with people. And yet sometimes I wonder if I'm avoiding grieving. Or maybe I've done a lot of the heavy grieving when mom was on hospice. I don't feel like I have done enough work to accept mom's passing. I don't feel like I've cried enough. I know I'm judging myself. And that I shouldn't, but it's where my mind goes.  Insomnia has been a constant companion. I'm beginning to wear down. And then, before I know it, Friday is here. I look forward to two lazy days. I have so much to do, a chore list the length of my arm, but I find myself doing things to nurture myself rather than to complete a chore list. Reading. Swimming. Walking. Puttering. Sleeping in a bit. My energy is low. My desire to socialize pretty minimal. L

And this leads to why I look forward to the weekends, brief though they feel. It's so obvious it feels silly to state it, but Mom is my roots. Everything I have is because she provided me with a life and unconditional love and guidance. I do feel a little rootless. I do feel the strain of feeling like the matriarch, although my aunt technically has that title. I made Mom big promises - I would ensure that everyone will be ok. She will be remembered and loved and everyone will be ok. That's a load to bear, but I'm good with it.

And that leads to my own inability to behave better. Oh my word I've been off the hook the last few weeks with simple flash anger at situations and I know, I just know, I'm not thinking clearly and yet, there it is. That flash anger. I'm a Libra - very balanced and centered. Not so much since April 16th. Probably not so much since last October, when Mom began feeling ill. My sister has born a lot of my anger. I've born hers as well. We're not angry with one another. We're feeling bereft and lonely (we live in different states) and seeking peace. We each have our own crosses to bear. Mine lie with the actuality of being mom's caretaker. I'd be lying if I said I thought I handled everything just fine and I have no issues. I have issues, though they are lingering well below the surface. Perhaps those memories are what keep me up at night, without my even realizing it. Subconsciously. 

I find I've learned a lot about life recently. I can look back and say "ah-ha" at a few things, some tenents of life that have occurred to me and I realize that I've grown. I now understand some things differently because of my experiences. 

Happily, joyfully, I've had a good week. I've been able to string four days of feeling mostly positive and happy together. Today I found myself singing in the car and dancing around to Justin Timberlake's new song. It made me smile. Life can be "normal" again.