We often put on our "public" face when we go out, hiding private pain behind a tight mask of "I'm fine, thanks," and hurried attempts to walk-on-past. There is so much we do not say. So much hidden behind a public numbness, or a polite and clipped response. But inside, there is so much more: howling and punching, pounded by grief. What is hidden below the public surface.
If you could tell people something, tell them what is true, what is true about grief and love and loss, something they do not know, or can't know, what would it be? If you could address them, what would be said?
You might start with: "what you don't know... " or: "what does not show..."
What does not show is how hard it is to get through the days. How I have to force myself out of bed, propel myself into the world. I don't know if this is the result of grief for mom's death or the whole process she and I went through with her cancer and hospice. What does not show is my almost embarrassment at being so torn up at mom's death because a parent is supposed to die. Mom was 73. All the celebrities who have died since her (which remarkably are quite a few) were younger than her. So why is it so hard. I read other's awful losses of children, babies, partners, spouses, and I think - it was "only" my mom. It's normal. But I know, the logical response is "she was your mom. It's ok to mourn." But yeah I have that feeling of well it's been a couple of months, not even actually, but things should be getting back to order now.
But they're not. I went back to work about a week ago and it just feels like people expect normal. But I don't know what normal is. And I don't feel like I'm answering this prompt correctly at all. And yes, I know there is no "correct". I'm full of dichotomy and understand every side of it. If that makes any sense. Yes, I am sad but am embarrassed about it. But I know it's ok to be sad. That sort of thing.
Maybe that's the thing. On the surface I show one thing but beneath is the real me. I think I've always felt pretty genuine, putting myself out there honestly and openly. But now, I feel there's a wall and I'm not comfortable with it. I've felt it with those who I am closest with. They want me to smile. They want me to be happy. So I am. Or rather, I pretend. To keep others happy. Perhaps that's my way of coping. I am a people pleaser for sure. Sometimes I actually achieve happiness and that's a beautiful moment. Why is it so hard to show our sadnesses to the world? Is it the fact that vulnerability is so hard? Do we act in ways we believe are expected? Am I being protective?
What doesn't show is that I want absolutely NO responsibility right now. I want to hibernate. I feel the need to recover although I don't know if that's the right word. For all of my feelings of gratitude for being mom's "one", it was hard. Really really hard. I don't tell anyone that. I shrug it off. It's too intimate to discuss. I haven't told anyone how when mom passed her head tilted toward me and she had one tear coming out of her eye that was toward me. I didn't see it at first, but my husband pointed it out. Perhaps it was her way of saying goodbye. Perhaps it was an involuntary body thing. Who knows.
People don't know that I feel ashamed for being glad she passed, that her death wasn't prolonged as it could have been. My life changed in a blink of an eye and while I can't say I resented it, there were definitely times when I wished it wasn't happening, that I could be elsewhere, that I could just run. And that makes me feel ashamed. So I brush off the nicenesses people share with me. "Anyone would do it." But I know deep down that's not true and I'm also secretly proud of myself for doing it, for being able to do it, to being able to give mom what she needed. For being able to hold it together, manage everything and not fall apart. I'm just really all over the place.
Oh what people don't know also is that I haven yet to be able to sit down and write thank you notes. I'm mortified, but that task just sits in this pile and I can't bring myself to do it. I gave myself deadline after deadline and there they sit. People will understand. Or will criticize behind my back. It doesn't matter. I will manage it in my own time.
What also does not show is my inability to get things accomplished. I lose my will halfway through projects. I don't care overly much at work. I hope that wears off. it seems like every day there's another bill to be dealt with. Another account I have to call. More junk mail addressed to mom with the words "urgent / offer ending soon!" It makes me grimly chuckle. I have to get to the bank to straighten a small matter out, and bring the death certificate with me. I am frozen. I cannot do it. I need to do it. But it's so final. So goddamned final. I have most of mom's clothes sorted and put into my car to be dropped off at the thrift store. I cannot do it. Those bags may be there for quite awhile.
And sometimes I'm fine. I'm finding my working out to be a really good way of coping. My fibromyalgia kicked into overdrive when mom got sick. I told my doc I hurt everywhere. She said "of course you do. Look at the stress you're under." She advised walking. Lots of walking and dark glasses for the tears that will spring up. She's a wonderful woman. About a month ago I began swimming and when I'm in the water I don't think about mom at all. or at least rarely. I'm building my endurance and usually I'm more concerned about breathing than anything else. It's a really good thing for me both emotionally and physically. I walk out of the gym feeling somewhat normal and centered. Then I pull into home and look for mom sitting on the porch and she's not there and it's jarring every time. I don't really understand the sadness perhaps. I just don't know.
I don't want to acknowledge the pain underneath. I don't want to do it. I don't know if I need to do it. I don't know what I'm supposed to feel like, how I'm supposed to act, what I'm supposed to do. So I soldier on and get through the days. Today I began wishing for bed at about noon. I had a swim after work at 5:30 and got home before 7. I'll get to bed around 10.
I hope sleep comes easily.
What does not show is how hard it is to get through the days. How I have to force myself out of bed, propel myself into the world. I don't know if this is the result of grief for mom's death or the whole process she and I went through with her cancer and hospice. What does not show is my almost embarrassment at being so torn up at mom's death because a parent is supposed to die. Mom was 73. All the celebrities who have died since her (which remarkably are quite a few) were younger than her. So why is it so hard. I read other's awful losses of children, babies, partners, spouses, and I think - it was "only" my mom. It's normal. But I know, the logical response is "she was your mom. It's ok to mourn." But yeah I have that feeling of well it's been a couple of months, not even actually, but things should be getting back to order now.
But they're not. I went back to work about a week ago and it just feels like people expect normal. But I don't know what normal is. And I don't feel like I'm answering this prompt correctly at all. And yes, I know there is no "correct". I'm full of dichotomy and understand every side of it. If that makes any sense. Yes, I am sad but am embarrassed about it. But I know it's ok to be sad. That sort of thing.
Maybe that's the thing. On the surface I show one thing but beneath is the real me. I think I've always felt pretty genuine, putting myself out there honestly and openly. But now, I feel there's a wall and I'm not comfortable with it. I've felt it with those who I am closest with. They want me to smile. They want me to be happy. So I am. Or rather, I pretend. To keep others happy. Perhaps that's my way of coping. I am a people pleaser for sure. Sometimes I actually achieve happiness and that's a beautiful moment. Why is it so hard to show our sadnesses to the world? Is it the fact that vulnerability is so hard? Do we act in ways we believe are expected? Am I being protective?
What doesn't show is that I want absolutely NO responsibility right now. I want to hibernate. I feel the need to recover although I don't know if that's the right word. For all of my feelings of gratitude for being mom's "one", it was hard. Really really hard. I don't tell anyone that. I shrug it off. It's too intimate to discuss. I haven't told anyone how when mom passed her head tilted toward me and she had one tear coming out of her eye that was toward me. I didn't see it at first, but my husband pointed it out. Perhaps it was her way of saying goodbye. Perhaps it was an involuntary body thing. Who knows.
People don't know that I feel ashamed for being glad she passed, that her death wasn't prolonged as it could have been. My life changed in a blink of an eye and while I can't say I resented it, there were definitely times when I wished it wasn't happening, that I could be elsewhere, that I could just run. And that makes me feel ashamed. So I brush off the nicenesses people share with me. "Anyone would do it." But I know deep down that's not true and I'm also secretly proud of myself for doing it, for being able to do it, to being able to give mom what she needed. For being able to hold it together, manage everything and not fall apart. I'm just really all over the place.
Oh what people don't know also is that I haven yet to be able to sit down and write thank you notes. I'm mortified, but that task just sits in this pile and I can't bring myself to do it. I gave myself deadline after deadline and there they sit. People will understand. Or will criticize behind my back. It doesn't matter. I will manage it in my own time.
What also does not show is my inability to get things accomplished. I lose my will halfway through projects. I don't care overly much at work. I hope that wears off. it seems like every day there's another bill to be dealt with. Another account I have to call. More junk mail addressed to mom with the words "urgent / offer ending soon!" It makes me grimly chuckle. I have to get to the bank to straighten a small matter out, and bring the death certificate with me. I am frozen. I cannot do it. I need to do it. But it's so final. So goddamned final. I have most of mom's clothes sorted and put into my car to be dropped off at the thrift store. I cannot do it. Those bags may be there for quite awhile.
And sometimes I'm fine. I'm finding my working out to be a really good way of coping. My fibromyalgia kicked into overdrive when mom got sick. I told my doc I hurt everywhere. She said "of course you do. Look at the stress you're under." She advised walking. Lots of walking and dark glasses for the tears that will spring up. She's a wonderful woman. About a month ago I began swimming and when I'm in the water I don't think about mom at all. or at least rarely. I'm building my endurance and usually I'm more concerned about breathing than anything else. It's a really good thing for me both emotionally and physically. I walk out of the gym feeling somewhat normal and centered. Then I pull into home and look for mom sitting on the porch and she's not there and it's jarring every time. I don't really understand the sadness perhaps. I just don't know.
I don't want to acknowledge the pain underneath. I don't want to do it. I don't know if I need to do it. I don't know what I'm supposed to feel like, how I'm supposed to act, what I'm supposed to do. So I soldier on and get through the days. Today I began wishing for bed at about noon. I had a swim after work at 5:30 and got home before 7. I'll get to bed around 10.
I hope sleep comes easily.
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