love light loss and pinterest

A journey into my messy life, mind, and kitchen.

Tag: Panic

Void

Recently, some amazing friends told me they were sad I had not written for a while.  I gave what I thought to be an explanation.  Luckily for me they called me on it…it was actually an excuse.   They told me to just get it all out there.  They told me to tell the world (blog world that is) what I had just told them.  Of course that is easier said than done.  I had spoken the words to them in the comfort and safety of my own home.  But, they were right, I have been hiding from my own feelings by not putting them out there.

The truth is I have 4 drafts with titles only just sitting waiting to be molded into something fabulous.  Something that someone would want to read.  Something if not inspirational at least coherent.  But, I just haven’t been able to put words to my feelings.  I know exactly what I want to write but I try and it all just comes out a jumbled mess (metaphor for life much?).  I have tried multiple attack plans: writing snuggled under soft warm blanket, sitting up right focused at a desk, even outside in my rocking chair in the beautiful weather.  Nothing seemed to work.  Even this post was originally hand written at the airport the only inspiration being the void of anything else to do and the music of Waitress Musical.  Seriously, if you haven’t listened just do it…talk about heartstrings.  Just read these lyrics of my new heart song (thank you Sara Bareilles).

A Soft Place to Land

“Sugar, butter, flour
Sometimes I still see her
My mother the dreamer
She’d say, ‘Nothing’s impossible child’

A dream needs believing
To taste like the real thing
Like some stranger you recognize
So pure, so pure, so electric
So sure, so sure, so connected
To those little believers inside
May we all be so lucky

But dreams are elusive
The kind we’ve gotten used to
Is nothing I can feel
Nothing I can hold
Nothing I can have
Nothing that I know
Dreams come and they go

But hold them and keep them
And know that you need them
When your breaking point’s all that you have
A dream is a soft place to land
May we all be so lucky
Sugar, butter, flour”

Slayed. Sobbing. Sitting in a puddle of tears at the airport terminal gate.

How can one song speak so loudly to what I am feeling? How can I use this to explain how I feel? How do I take these feelings and use them to better myself and my world?

I feel like this song perfectly explains everything I am trying to accomplish with this project.  Stay connected to my sweet Mom, keep her dreams alive, work my way through her pins.  Which I have actually been doing, I just get to the writing part and get STUCK.

I have heard writer’s block (seems funny to type because I don’t consider myself a writer) described as a void of ideas, a blank brain if you will.  My experience is the opposite really,  I start to write and everything starts spinning.  I have not one idea but 400 and no direction or guidance (this is when I would normally turn to Mom).  And, there it is.  My void.  It all comes back to me wanting a different reality.  I want what I can never have back. This is the point when I go back and read the list of all the amazing things I do have and, I am thankful.  But, it doesn’t change the way my heart aches.  It does not fill the void.

We travel tomorrow to spread Mom’s ashes “on the sea somewhere fabulous” (her exact words in her will).  It is bound to be a bitter sweet journey.  I am excited to get away, but I know it will not be an escape from my feelings.  I will continue to write even if it is just jumbled mess. I will cool it with the excuses and let you all back in.

I am honored to have all of you on this journey with me.

“May we all be so lucky”

 

Bitter Sweet

So here we are.

I am writing this on the eve of Mother’s Day 2016.

I would be lying if I didn’t tell you…I feel stuck.

Life is good, really not just lifey.

Here’s a list to prove it:

  • amazing husband
  • a lovely home
  • really incredible friends who let me steal their kids from time to time
  • perfect siblings who talk and listen to me
  • wonderful family all around
  • precious dog child
  • smart kind niece and nephews
  • reasons to leave the house
  • new health goals and help achieving them
  • travel plans and the ability to make plans a reality
  • support from marvelous people, some I barely know
  • did I mention an amazing husband?

With all of these blessings I still find myself wishing for things that I can’t have.  I find myself feeling resentment toward people who physically have the things I want.  The things I miss.

I am not that person.  I am not the person who gets jealous of other people’s happiness.  I lift people up.  I celebrate others victories. I really do. This is not me but, lately it has been.  I feel anger towards Mother’s Day ads. I feel jealousy directed at the tributes I see honoring remarkable women.  I feel sadness seeing mothers at the park with their children. Then I get angry with myself for even having those feelings.  What is this anger?  I am not an angry person.  How am allowing this grief to turn me into this person I don’t recognize?

Even happy moments have a way of turning sour in my mind.

This week we finalized a European trip that will start with all of my siblings and myself traveling down the coast of England to the Minack Theatre (just look at this place) to join Gwyn in spreading Mom’s ashes.  Mom loved to travel and England was one her favorite places on Earth.  She made a point to make sure to get us all over there.  But, never all together.  And, now we are going together, without her.  Everything we do from now on is without her.  It is a reality I have been living with for two months now and it still stings like it happened yesterday.  I am beyond thrilled to travel and get to see parts of the world I have only seen in books and on screens.  I understand that it is a privilege and a luxury and it is not one that is lost on me.  I humbled by the opportunity.

I do not feel this sadness and anger all the time.  It comes in like a flash flood and most of the time goes just as quickly but, it is all consuming.  I know that there is a lesson in here somewhere and a growth I must be open to.  I also know Mother’s Day is just a day.  A day when you honor your Mom with an outpouring of love.  Love that honestly we should all show every day. I get that.  I know that and yet here I am in my head making it all about me.  It is not about me. It is about my wonderful mother, her mother before her, the incredible mothers my sisters are to their beautiful children.

So in honor of my Mom on this Mother’s Day I am going to try and squeeze in some of her favorite things. I started tonight with the heart shaped sushi box my darling husband brought home and the new season of Grace and Frankie on Netflix.

Here’s a list:

  • Margaritas/Mexican food
  • A little pampering
  • Thrift stores (charity shops)
  • Spending Time with loved ones
  • Musical Theatre
  • Travel Planning
  • The Beach
  • Reading
  • “Gentle” tv show or movie (Gilmore Girls or some Downton anyone?)

I honor my Mom by continuing traditions and enjoying the small things.  I honor her by continuing to try and keep our connection alive.  I honor her by celebrating our similarities and embracing our differences.  I honor her by allowing myself to miss her.  I honor her by being true to my emotions.  I honor her by working to be the best version of myself I can be.

I am ready to show the universe I can and will get through this. I just have to figure out how to do it without begrudging others happiness, without becoming cynical and bitter, without losing myself.

sushi

A heart full of sushi is a heart full of love.

My heart is currently both full and broken.

The Unimaginable

“There are moments that the words don’t reach
There is a grace too powerful to name
We push away what we can never understand
We push away the unimaginable”

-It’s Quiet Uptown, Hamilton, Lin-Manuel Miranda

Following the last post was difficult for me.  I re-read and re-read the amazing words people had written about Mom’s lifetime of incredible work.  It left me in awe.  It left me angry.  It left me heart-broken.  It left me searching.

I finally found some inspiration in, of all places, the grocery store.  A place that I could not even enter a few months ago with out a panic attack (read Grocery Store Dilemma).  As I walked the aisles by myself I thought back on the last few weeks.  What has changed? What will never be the same?  Although, my whole world has been turned upside down it all still continues to spin.

As I was having my grocery store meditation I spotted something that I knew I had to cook and write about.  A beautiful corned beef roast.  Not, something I had ever made before.  But, something that immediately flooded me with memories.  Any time we saw a corned beef hash on a menu Mom and I were both drawn to it.  We had a system.  One of us would order the corned beef hash and one would order something sweeter like pancakes (breakfast dessert is a totally legit thing).   We would share, what a great team we were.

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The Grocery Store Dilemma

To go in or not to go in.

People have told me that grief has triggers some that are obvious and some that come out of nowhere.  I guess I thought I was prepared for this, in a way I have been grieving for a year, since my Mom’s diagnosis.  In that year I was so focused on day to day task and helping Mom feel the best she possibly could for as long as she possibly could. I just never really thought about what the day to day would be like without her… empty.  The first few days, although I cried a lot, I really felt numb.  We had a beautiful memorial party that Mom would have really loved. Family and friends came from all around.  And, while I genuinely believe she was there, she wasn’t physically there, I could not hear her laugh, or see her enjoy all the lovely people she touched, or most of all just go hug her. I know some people have trouble sleeping, that hasn’t really been my experience.  Every morning for a bit I woke at 5 am thinking I needed to check on her and feeling guilty for sleeping too deeply. After all the family left and things started to go back to normal  I started to feel like I was getting sick… physically sick. I was having all sorts of symptoms; body aches, headaches, nausea, fever (like legit low grade fever), coughing, and pressure in my chest.  Two days of this and just sleeping.  Thomas pointed out that more than likely I was not physically ill but having a physical response to my grief.  I was angry with him for a fleeting second, how could he know what I was feeling?! Then the awakening, of course, he knew what I was feeling. I had sat on the foot of the bed while he slept a day away just four months earlier trying to convince him to eat something and changing out his cup of untouched water.  That and the fact that (especially now) he knows me better than anyone else on this earth.  So I tried to wrap my head around what was going on in my own body, my heart, and my mind.
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