Day One prompt

"I don't have a name. I don't know what to do.
The only thing I know for certain is that I must begin to heal.

Just like every time my life was re-created, I had to begin restoring the foundered part of my being: the lost relationships, the familiarity of a neighborhood, the sense of the person I might have been. There is an algebraic term for the technique for distributing two binomials, called the FOIL method. It stands for first, outer; inner, last. And that is exactly how I have learned to repair myself time after time: from the outside in." 

p.233 "The Girl She Used to Be," by David Cristofano 

Who was the person you used to be?

You might start today's writing with "I don't have a name. I don't know what to do. I am not the person I used to be..."

I do have a name. I know who I am. I also know that there is another thing inside me pushing through and altering who I know myself to be. I feel the wicked snappiness. I hold about 90% of it in. The 10% that I let out terrifies me. I don't want to be some witchy person, always on edge.

So I balance it by being overly sweet and trying to find my zen peace. I'm friendly to people on the outside. I only begin to break when someone approaches and says "how are you" and I know they mean no, really - how ARE you. That is when the tears start. They spring forth unbidden unwelcome at the stupidest times. My boss was dictating to me one day and they just started. He asked if I was ok and I just shook my head no and he said he would be back. Lol It's unbidden this grief.

How do I reconcile the whirlwind I feel inside with the grounded in control person I have always been. How do I recond lie these two/ I want the centering. I need the centering. It's who I am. Yet now, the work it takes to center myself to ground myself is exhausting. I don't sleep so I don't have the energy some days to cover it up and I just feel like a powder keg. 

I function. I get lost sometimes in my tasks at work or cleaning at home. Then I get that overwhelmed feeling and just want to crawl into bed with a book. But I know I won't sleep so then I get anxious and it's a cycle that never ends.

I make plans. I go out. I sometimes don't want to but I force myself to. I know it makes other people concerned about me happy wh en they see me trying. Some know how hard it is to try. Others don't. 

I try to begin new patterns to change things up. Mom was a part of our lives for a long time. I feel her. I can't bring myself to brush off the couch sphere she used to sit. Her hair that she lost from chemo is still on the couch and I can't bear to remove it. No one else knows it's there.

Intellectually I try. I put on a good face. I don't want people worried about me. I know people suffer through much worse. But that doesn't mean that I should negate my journey. The responsibility of being mom's caretaker was who I became and it happened SO quickly. Just this thought brings me back to her eyes when we got the news from the doctor. So so scared I felt our roles flip in that instant. I had to be strong. Well I am a strong person, but this - this tested me. And in the end I had to be strong enough to help her accept her death. There was one day that's particularly haunting me, the day she got the catheter put in. She knew it would make her bed bound. She knew she was exhausted just standing let alone getting to the commode one foot away. She would whisper "Lisa, I'm so tired of this shit". I knew what she needed. But when our nurse came with the cath the next day - Mom said she did't think she was ready for it "yet". I was appalled. I don't think I hid my frustration well. I hadn't slept in three nights, helping her every two hours to go to the commode. I was exhausted and insisted that it was time. 

Mom, God bless her, she acquiesced and I knew, just knew, that this was one of those "momemts". A point of no return. I feel guilt that I steered her. I feel guilt that I am the one who administered the morphine which eased her pain and which led to her death. I am honored also to have been the one, but to BE the one well some days I struggle with where the positivity is in it all. She was in pain. She had disease everywhere. She was ready. She had done her emotional work. Said her goodbyes. We hadn't though. She thanked me very often. She often told me I was giving her the best care she could possibly wish for. When I'd bring her her favorite food, she would act like I was treating her like a queen. her humility is beautiful. I was raging inside, trying to make her happy in any stupid small way I could and she graciously accepted my efforts and was so damned delighted.

And now somehow real life has come again. I'm back to work, parenting, friending, etc. and I've got this other person inside who doesn't know what to do with these memories. I don't know HOW to heal her. I don't know what to do for her so that I can feel whole again. 

Everyone loses their parents. It's the natural order of things. I knew mom would die young-ish. She had bad health. It's not like losing a child or a baby or a spouse. There is no inherent tragedy in the whole thing. She smoked her whole life and got lung cancer. She ignored her health and go figure, she died a rough death. It's not a true tragedy in my mind. But to ME, to ME, it's a tragedy. No one will ever love me the way my mom loved me. I could do no wrong in her mind. She thought I was awesome. I will always cling to that. I am a good person, but she thought I was amazing. Perhaps it's how I look at my own daughters. Food for thought.

How do I get back to the balanced happy person. What is my path. What was the point. Is there a heaven. Is she happy. Is she ok. Sometimes the questions make the thought of ever finding my way back to myself seem like an impossibility. So perhaps I'll have to become a new person, but at this point all I can think is the negativity that is the new person hidden inside. Somewhere there has to be good to come of this. I did it for a good reason. I wanted to serve my mom, to honor her, to be there for her as she was fr my my entire 50 years. There has to be GOOD in that.  Desperately seeking the upside.