Good Grief

My family doesn't mourn losses, at least, not in any traditional sense. When grandma died, grandpa had her cremated without any sort of memorial service. Instead the family gathered at grandpa's house and ate a big chicken dinner. When mom died, we made ribs. Their ashes were placed in the china cabinet in the dining room to collect dust. No one has spoken of either of them since.

As for me, when grandma died, I drank pretty hard for about a year. When mom died, I took a portion of her ashes and placed them in the flower garden in front of my house (which I am now selling, but at least the garden is growing strong.) I don't think I have taken care of myself properly since then.

Now I am faced with grieving many losses at the same time, and it is devestating me. I lost the innocence of my childhood when I was five. I lost my dream of being a musician when I was 12 and my grandparents wouldn't let me be in band. I lost my college dream of attending OCU so I could study French and German (it didn't and doesn't matter what the practical applications of such study are or are not!) I've lost boyfriends, girlfriends, best friends. Now I am losing my health, my career, my house and perhaps even my sanity.

These days, I cry bitterly during every therapy session. I leave drained, exhausted. I try my hardest to put the memories that have been brutally dragged up from the dark recesses of my soul. I wonder why I couldn't just leave them buried, but I know there is no "getting over it"; I must go through. I just wish I knew when I will be able to see the other side.

Although I know I have friends that are working so hard to keep me from falling, my sense of security is gone. I feel exposed, as if every bad memory, every weakness, every shame, is being laid out for the world to see. The internal judge that tells me I am unworthy, unloveable and useless is screaming against all this new, strange love and support my friends are pouring on me these days. They tell me I am loved, that I am capable, that I am beautiful (even typing this word brings me to tears). I pray that, maybe if I hear these words long enough, I might begin to believe...

Empty

My house is on the market. It may sell, it may not. What hit me yesterday, though, was how empty the house was now that it had been cleared of all the furniture, junk and decorations. On the one hand, my footsteps on the wood floors echoing throughout conjured sadness, like the house was grieving the loss of the life within it. At the same time, this empty house is free to accept a whole new life, with it's own trappings and a chance to make new memories within this space.

While I have left the house, I am moving into a new, now empty space. Like my house, this room in the house of a close friend, has very recently been emptied, swept clean of memories of the girl who grew up there. I know it was hard for her mother to empty that room for the same reason that emptying my house was hard. It is closing the door on the past and making way for the future. It is change, and that is difficult, even under ideal circumstances. Still, the empty room brings promise of new memories and new life as well. I pray that I might add only happy memories to that space, and that it offers a new life for me.

My life right now seems to be enduring the same changes as the living spaces I have and will occupy. I am emptying my heart and head of old junk, old tapes, old heartbreaks and hurts. Once that emptying process is complete, I must find new things to occupy the empty spaces left behind. I am hopeful that, this time, I will fill my life with beautiful, peaceful and meaningful things.

The Next Step

My head is always so full of things to do and things to think about that sometimes I am mentally and psychologicallt paralzyed by it all. That's when the little hamster wheel in my brain starts spinning. Boy, can that little guy run! By the time he's done, I have gone from a simple problem to being homeless and ready to give up on everything. It sounds silly, but living this ritual over and over is a much different story.

I received a bit of good advice and a way to give the hamster a break: "Just focus on taking the next step." For me that means not worrying about what to do tomorrow, next week, next month or next year. For now it means focusing on what to do next. For example, I am typing this blog. After I am done typing, I will make something to eat. While I do that, I will decide on what to do after.

For now, that is a good idea because when I think about all the challenges I am facing - moving, bankruptcy, health problems, finding a different job, cleaning up this chaos in my living room - it is easy to let myself get overwhelmed and give the hamster another chance to get the wheel spinning again. I don't have a lot of coping skills, so right now focusing only on the next step is the most effective tool I have.

The beginning ...again!

OK...I had a meltdown about two weeks ago. A real one, the kind where friends decided I needed to be put away for a few days to get my meds adjusted and stop thinking about an early entry into the Hereafter. The friend who went with me said, "A death does need to occur; it just doesn't need to be your physical one." I decided she had a point.

Although I am only at the beginning of this dying/birthing process at the tender age of 38, I already have learned one thing: this birth is gonna suck a lot more than the first one simply because I will actually have conscious memory of it.