Thursday, December 27, 2007
Thank you all for your comments.
I want to add that I'm thankful for the comments that have been left here in my journal. Even if I haven't responded to everyone personally, I read every word and am reminded that I am connected to other people in this process. 50% of keeping this journal is for my own healing, to sort out all the emotions and thoughts, and also to make a record of certain memories that I never want to forget. And the other 50% is with the hope that other people out there who are hurting will read it and maybe it will give them even a little bitty bit of hope to keep going because they know someone out there understands how they feel. Though grief of this sort is not something anyone wishes to have in common with someone, it's also good when we do so we can share in it and lighten each other's burden with simply knowing someone else understands.
4th Christmas without Mom
On the first Christmas without my mom, she was still alive. But she was about a month-and-a-half shy of her death and was too sick to really do anything. I was stuck in a really deep, dark hole already because I knew the end was coming soon. I couldn't celebrate with my boyfriend's family. I didn't want to celebrate anything at all. And I couldn't even make myself leave my house and go be with my mom that day. I sat in the dark all day and night and didn't want to talk to anyone. I guess I knew it would be our last Christmas together, and I couldn't stand the thought of it being like that, of seeing her that way and it being my last Christmas memory of her. But I have regretted it every day that I was so stuck in my own pain of losing her that I couldn't even go spend that day with her while I still had her. I think that's really the only regret I have in my relationship with her. All the other time I had with her on this earth was well-spent and full of love and laughter, hugs and kisses, back scratches, funny faces, love notes tucked everywhere, and all the other things I will always remember and treasure. I did celebrate her last birthday with her about a month later, and I've written before that she told me it was the very best day of her whole entire life. But I still feel guilty for missing that Christmas with her. Even so, she and my dad were never into any holidays as much as I am. They always did the traditional stuff for every holiday when I was a kid because they felt kids should be able to experience it, but it was all for my sake. After I moved out as an adult, they didn't do much in the way of holidays anymore, not because they didn't care but because it just isn't as big of a deal to them. Me, I have to have all the traditions and make a big deal out of holidays most of the time. So most likely she's reading this over my shoulder going, "Jen, it ain't that big a deal; let it go already!" But even if it hadn't been Christmas, it was still one more day we could have had together. Still, you can't live your life consumed by regrets and what-ifs or you'll make yourself crazy. It is what it is, and what's done is done, and all those other cliches that really are true.
The last two Christmases before this one were pretty much just awful. I tried to get in the Christmas spirit and decorate the house, and it helped a little. And I did celebrate with my boyfriend's family both of those years and enjoyed being with them...but there was always the ever-present feeling of "who isn't here this year," and it would grab me so strongly and squeeze me until I broke down. I got SOOOO irritable about EVERYTHING, both during the days leading up to Christmas and on the actual day. In general, when it comes to missing her really bad, I usually get sad, then mad, and then it causes everything to irritate me even when none of those things are related to what is actually bothering me. And then Christmas would be over and I would have that letdown feeling that it had passed and I hadn't even enjoyed it at all. I had wanted to enjoy it but couldn't seem to embrace it completely because what was the point without her there. I know it's Jesus' birthday, but come on, Christmas is also about family and being with the ones you love most, and without her, it felt so empty.
This year, I'm thankful to say, was actually better. I determined early on that this year was going to be different, by God. I was not going to let myself get sad or swallowed up or irritable. I've been so happy the last few months when the puppies came into my life and changed everything and after going to the hypnotherapist (did I write about her yet?? I need to do that!), and I didn't want there to be any kind of damper on my warm feeling of general contentment in life. Sometimes I just get tired of being sad. I wasn't trying to ignore the fact that my mom's gone or not think about her. I just didn't want it to make me depressed. Well...that was a pretty unrealistic expectation of myself. Christmas without being sad about my mom being dead? Right. I had about three days the week beforehand where it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was totally surprised by it and caught off-guard. I strongly believe that we create our own realities and that we can control, to an extent, how happy we are based on deciding to be happy and living life in a way that reflects it and focusing on what we have to be thankful for. So I thought that by simply deciding I wasn't going to get depressed this year, well, then, I just wouldn't. But I failed to remember that I also strongly believe in letting myself feel what I need to feel, when I need to feel it. Once I get it out of my system, then I move forward. So when it hit me, I then tried deciding that even though it could touch me, it at least wasn't going to get to me as bad as it has before. That was much more realistic, and it worked fairly well, I think. I let it run its course for three days, I was irritable and everything got on my nerves, and I cussed and slammed things around. I couldn't really control it no matter how much I wanted it to go away, so I just gave in and let it happen, and then I was alright again. Somehow I really enjoyed Christmas Day, and I got through it much easier than in years past. They say that the anticipation is usually worse than the actual event, and most of the time that's true. At least, this Christmas it was. The ones before that were pretty much as hard as the days leading up.
Her birthday and the third anniversary of her death are coming up very, very soon. Those usually hit me even harder than Christmas. So we'll see what happens then. I'm still going to do my best not to let it suffocate and swallow me like it always has. But I'll also try to be more realistic and just realize I'm probably gonna be sad and depressed on certain days for the rest of my life. It doesn't mean I have to resign myself to it or automatically expect certain days to be awful. It just means I'm approaching them with a realistic attitude that leaves me open to hopefully be a little less sad with each year that passes. Or maybe one day when I'm 70 years old, the missing of my mom on one of those days will reach out and strangle me just like it did during the first year. There's no right or wrong pattern. But I just know that I desperately want to be happy for real, and even though her physical absence makes it a hell of a lot more challenging than it would otherwise be, I still think it's achievable. There's a lot of good in my life. A whole lot of love. Including hers, which can never go away.
Another thing that has helped me a lot this year is my puppy. Of COURSE I kept one of the puppies from the litter I rescued...who did I think I was kidding when I said I wouldn't? I love them all and always will, but this little girl is something extra special and has so enriched my world. With all my cats and dogs, I sort of have to keep going because they are depending on me just like children would, and I want to be there for them and give them the best life possible. They make my world go 'round.
I've decided that some of the best medicines in life are:
1) A cat purring.
2) A doggie licking my face.
3) A baby smiling at me. In the bathroom at work the other day, a woman came in with her baby girl in a stroller. I was having a rough day, but when that baby smiled up at me with big, trusting blue eyes, my troubles melted away. She grabbed onto my finger and plastered the biggest smile on her chubby little baby face, and suddenly I felt hope again.
Merry Christmas, Mommy. I love you.
The last two Christmases before this one were pretty much just awful. I tried to get in the Christmas spirit and decorate the house, and it helped a little. And I did celebrate with my boyfriend's family both of those years and enjoyed being with them...but there was always the ever-present feeling of "who isn't here this year," and it would grab me so strongly and squeeze me until I broke down. I got SOOOO irritable about EVERYTHING, both during the days leading up to Christmas and on the actual day. In general, when it comes to missing her really bad, I usually get sad, then mad, and then it causes everything to irritate me even when none of those things are related to what is actually bothering me. And then Christmas would be over and I would have that letdown feeling that it had passed and I hadn't even enjoyed it at all. I had wanted to enjoy it but couldn't seem to embrace it completely because what was the point without her there. I know it's Jesus' birthday, but come on, Christmas is also about family and being with the ones you love most, and without her, it felt so empty.
This year, I'm thankful to say, was actually better. I determined early on that this year was going to be different, by God. I was not going to let myself get sad or swallowed up or irritable. I've been so happy the last few months when the puppies came into my life and changed everything and after going to the hypnotherapist (did I write about her yet?? I need to do that!), and I didn't want there to be any kind of damper on my warm feeling of general contentment in life. Sometimes I just get tired of being sad. I wasn't trying to ignore the fact that my mom's gone or not think about her. I just didn't want it to make me depressed. Well...that was a pretty unrealistic expectation of myself. Christmas without being sad about my mom being dead? Right. I had about three days the week beforehand where it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was totally surprised by it and caught off-guard. I strongly believe that we create our own realities and that we can control, to an extent, how happy we are based on deciding to be happy and living life in a way that reflects it and focusing on what we have to be thankful for. So I thought that by simply deciding I wasn't going to get depressed this year, well, then, I just wouldn't. But I failed to remember that I also strongly believe in letting myself feel what I need to feel, when I need to feel it. Once I get it out of my system, then I move forward. So when it hit me, I then tried deciding that even though it could touch me, it at least wasn't going to get to me as bad as it has before. That was much more realistic, and it worked fairly well, I think. I let it run its course for three days, I was irritable and everything got on my nerves, and I cussed and slammed things around. I couldn't really control it no matter how much I wanted it to go away, so I just gave in and let it happen, and then I was alright again. Somehow I really enjoyed Christmas Day, and I got through it much easier than in years past. They say that the anticipation is usually worse than the actual event, and most of the time that's true. At least, this Christmas it was. The ones before that were pretty much as hard as the days leading up.
Her birthday and the third anniversary of her death are coming up very, very soon. Those usually hit me even harder than Christmas. So we'll see what happens then. I'm still going to do my best not to let it suffocate and swallow me like it always has. But I'll also try to be more realistic and just realize I'm probably gonna be sad and depressed on certain days for the rest of my life. It doesn't mean I have to resign myself to it or automatically expect certain days to be awful. It just means I'm approaching them with a realistic attitude that leaves me open to hopefully be a little less sad with each year that passes. Or maybe one day when I'm 70 years old, the missing of my mom on one of those days will reach out and strangle me just like it did during the first year. There's no right or wrong pattern. But I just know that I desperately want to be happy for real, and even though her physical absence makes it a hell of a lot more challenging than it would otherwise be, I still think it's achievable. There's a lot of good in my life. A whole lot of love. Including hers, which can never go away.
Another thing that has helped me a lot this year is my puppy. Of COURSE I kept one of the puppies from the litter I rescued...who did I think I was kidding when I said I wouldn't? I love them all and always will, but this little girl is something extra special and has so enriched my world. With all my cats and dogs, I sort of have to keep going because they are depending on me just like children would, and I want to be there for them and give them the best life possible. They make my world go 'round.
I've decided that some of the best medicines in life are:
1) A cat purring.
2) A doggie licking my face.
3) A baby smiling at me. In the bathroom at work the other day, a woman came in with her baby girl in a stroller. I was having a rough day, but when that baby smiled up at me with big, trusting blue eyes, my troubles melted away. She grabbed onto my finger and plastered the biggest smile on her chubby little baby face, and suddenly I felt hope again.
Merry Christmas, Mommy. I love you.
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