Tired and Angry
When someone that knows me well asks me how I'm doing, I immediately feel the frog in my throat. I know what they mean when they are asking me that. What they are really asking is, "How are you coping since your mother died?"
I don't like to speak about her or think about her too much. Like with most things that upset me, I try to shove her memory way, way down in my heart where my love for her and my missing her won't hurt me as much.
That's how I am coping.
I can now bring myself to see her picture or watch videos of her but I'm beginning to feel disconnected, like I don't know her. I wonder, "Who was she, really? What is she thinking about in those moments captured by her pictures? In those videos?" In almost everything, she's smiling or laughing just as I will always remember. But that is not my mother anymore. My real mother is gone.
I am so tired of crying and the ache in my heart is holding me still. I don't want to be like this at all. I hate being sad all the time and drifting away to the days that were before her death.
My last conversation with her was on Mother's Day, one hour before she had her stroke. It was 9:30pm and I was saying my goodnight to her. We spoke earlier in the day and were just catching up. Our catching up was daily sometimes between one hour and the next. And then 12 hours later, she was in the hospital.
I have never been sadder or more isolated in my life than I am now. Since she has been gone, I can't bring myself to want to do anything productive. The motivation to do anything with the rest of life has not come to mind yet.
I'm tired of having flashes of her everywhere that I go. I cry all over the place but I hide these tears so I don't upset the kids. Hiding my tears so that my husband won't feel awkward because he doesn't know what to do for me anymore.
I am filled with rage too. Who can I fight? Death? And since I can't fully express the rage I am feeling, I am choosing to suppress it and bury it deep in my heart where you can't see it. I know it will come a time when I will explode and I won't be able to handle my emotions. I need to do this.
And on the outside you'll think I'm coping. But you'll know better.
I don't like to speak about her or think about her too much. Like with most things that upset me, I try to shove her memory way, way down in my heart where my love for her and my missing her won't hurt me as much.
That's how I am coping.
I can now bring myself to see her picture or watch videos of her but I'm beginning to feel disconnected, like I don't know her. I wonder, "Who was she, really? What is she thinking about in those moments captured by her pictures? In those videos?" In almost everything, she's smiling or laughing just as I will always remember. But that is not my mother anymore. My real mother is gone.
I am so tired of crying and the ache in my heart is holding me still. I don't want to be like this at all. I hate being sad all the time and drifting away to the days that were before her death.
My last conversation with her was on Mother's Day, one hour before she had her stroke. It was 9:30pm and I was saying my goodnight to her. We spoke earlier in the day and were just catching up. Our catching up was daily sometimes between one hour and the next. And then 12 hours later, she was in the hospital.
I have never been sadder or more isolated in my life than I am now. Since she has been gone, I can't bring myself to want to do anything productive. The motivation to do anything with the rest of life has not come to mind yet.
I'm tired of having flashes of her everywhere that I go. I cry all over the place but I hide these tears so I don't upset the kids. Hiding my tears so that my husband won't feel awkward because he doesn't know what to do for me anymore.
I am filled with rage too. Who can I fight? Death? And since I can't fully express the rage I am feeling, I am choosing to suppress it and bury it deep in my heart where you can't see it. I know it will come a time when I will explode and I won't be able to handle my emotions. I need to do this.
And on the outside you'll think I'm coping. But you'll know better.
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