Grief is Terminal

Grief is everyday, convincing myself that I can get through the day, without you. I wake up and remind myself that you are gone, and that I may never see you again. Grief is convincing myself that I will see you again, some how and some where and it will be beautiful. Grief is getting through the entire day. Grief is doing this every day, day after day, year after year. I’m so tired. Some days I doubt it all, I cry and scream. Some days I am hopeful, I have faith that we will be reunited. Grief is like diabetes. It can be managed, some days are worse than others, but it will always be there.

How does the story end?

She survived. She didn’t become a criminal. She’s not addicted to drugs. Yes, she’s overly sensitive and dramatic at times. But, she lived. Was it her own will power? Environmental influence? Genetics? We don’t know. But she is a functioning adult. Failure was not an option. How do people find the energy to go on after they are dealt blow after blow? What makes it happen?

I Wish They Knew…

I wish the friends I had growing up and in my twenties knew how difficult my life was back then. I wish they knew that I had to be a caregiver, a maid, an adult-all starting at age 8. I wish they knew how badly I suffered with panic and anxiety. I wish they knew that I may have acted angry and irrationally because I did not know how to process my emotions. I wish that I can take back the way I acted. But, I wish they knew that I’m okay and I could have ended up far worse. I am not a criminal or a prostitute. I have an education and a good job. I am sensitive yes, but I can function. I wish they knew that depression is a disease and that everyday I fight to get out of bed. One day they will contact me again, I think.

Avoiding the Mirror

It’s very hard to look at myself in a mirror. I say that not because of the black circles under my eyes, but because of the terror I feel. When I look at myself, I see my mother looking right back at me. It’s beautiful and also unnerving. It’s refreshing and also terrifying. I feel sad that I’m aging but also happy and proud that I am starting to look like the woman whom I love so much. This is another facet of grief. I also hear her voice when I speak. This isn’t all of the time but when it happens it’s scary. No one warned me about this and no one suspects anything when I stop talking mid sentence.

Permanently Negative

I haven’t had the strength to write for a while. I’ve had time but I haven’t had the mental space. It’s exhausting just getting myself through the day.

I started seeing a therapist when I was probably 7 years old. Since then, I have seen therapists on and off. I’m 36 now. My last therapist stopped contacting me. I told her I would like to take a break for a month and she said okay. I never heard back from her-is it my fault? Probably. She wasn’t effective anyway. The only effective therapist I’ve had in the past few years, died. She allowed me to text her whenever. She understood that I had no one to guide me. She was the older woman/mother/aunt figure I needed. She developed pancreatic cancer. Another person gone.

I’m listening to Eckhart Tolle. I have downloaded most of his books. I am trying to live in the present. I’m trying not to think of the future and enjoy each moment. It’s difficult. I think I’m programmed to be an anxious and depressed mess. It’s in my DNA. It’s all I know.

How Do People Take Their Own Life?

Everyday I drive to work over a long bridge. Usually, I hear of someone taking their life off this bridge once or twice a month. I often wonder how people get to that point. I have a friend who is a single mom and she is battling Cancer. She would do anything to not be ill and miss work. She is about to begin chemo and she will be most definitely weak and miserable. How can someone who doesn’t have Cancer just go to a bridge and take their life? How can they not see how lucky they are? I understand depression and suffering. I know that feeling of desperation. You are in a place where you are in pain whenever your eyes are open. I guess depression is mental cancer. It eats away at your body and takes over. You lose your appetite. You don’t care about anything. You are desperate for relief. Now, I get it. Do you?

You’ve Missed So Much

When I think about how long you’ve been gone, I realize how much you’ve really missed. Besides the big things, you’ve missed so many little things. Funny movies, good food, everything. Will I ever see you again? Will I have that feeling of security only a mother could provide? I feel so empty sometimes. Where has the time gone? How did I get here? I am trying to live in the moment but the moment frightens me. The moment is reality and I guess I cannot face my reality. Living in the moment to me means I have to accept that you’re gone and you’re not coming back. I don’t want to waste my time on Earth being sad, but I also don’t want to accept any of that. My existence is bittersweet. I want to be thankful and grateful that you’ve shown me how fragile life is-but I also hate it. It’s painful and depressing. I live in a flux of anger and depression.

Can’t Give Up

Is depression a disease? Is it curable? Can it be compared to Diabetes? Meaning, it can be controlled but it was always be there. I’ve been in a slump for quite a while now. Everyday my energy goes toward getting out of bed. Every task after that, is exhausting. All day, I think about returning to bed. Not much excites me. So, I’m going to really tease out exactly what is depressing me.

Hearing and Seeing My Mother, In Me.

Since my mother has died, I have spent my life trying to find someone or something that gave me comfort and solace. The feeling only a mother could provide. You know, “that everything is going to be okay” feeling. It is very hard to get through life once you have felt that way and then have had it ripped away from you.

The past few months, when I speak, I hear my mother’s voice. Not something she would have said, but her actual voice. I sound like her. It’s terrifying, but also soothing…if that makes any sense. Sometimes I’m afraid to speak, as I don’t know if her voice will come out. I’ve also noticed that I’m starting to look like her, as I remember her. I was putting on my make up, and I saw her face staring at me. Another terrifying moment. I never imagined anything like this would happen. I’ve been to many psychic mediums, and I’ve prayed and asked for signs. This has propelled me into a “re-grieving” stage as my therapist says. I don’t buy it. I don’t think we ever end grieving. We just live with it, in pain…like a tumor. We find ways to work around it, even though it’s always there. Some days it hurts and we can’t take tolerate the pain, so we cry and scream. Other days, it’s manageable.

Angry

Since I’ve stopped taking an SSRI, I’m a completely different person. I wake up angry. I cry constantly. I wonder if the medication was helping me to suppress all of these emotions. I’m on a different medication now, and I’m not sure if it’s even working.

Everyday has been a struggle. It takes so much effort to get out of bed. All day I am talking myself into saying and/or doing things. I come home exhausted, and obsessing over all of my actions of the day. Was I too emotional? Was I nasty? This is no way to live.

I’ve been in therapy most of my life. I’ve been on an anti depressant since I was a teen. This is a test right now, and I need to prove that all I need is myself, to get through this rough patch.