It’s Suicide

I fear I’m killing myself with stress and anxiety,” I anxiously confessed to my therapist this past Saturday.

And I’ve been avoiding this – the writing, the grief – all of it. I’ve been dodging the question, “Are you going to do anything for your mom’s birthday” which is tomorrow, April 8th – her would-be 60th. This time of the year just happens to be one of those times, like the holidays, that I would much rather curl up in the fetal position, underneath the covers of my comfy bed and pass the fuck out. Don’t wake me until the end of May. Nah, better yet, make it June just to be safe.

Dates and times have this uncanny significance and strong connection in our minds. I’ll ask myself why I’m feeling so down, why I’m depressed for seemingly “no reason” and then I’ll recall that my mama’s birthday is Wednesday, the same day my nonna passed away three years ago and this Friday, the 10th, will mark four years since I lost my dad to his two year battle with lung cancer.

Alas, I cannot just sleep through these types of things but what I can do is practice the art of avoidance, of distraction. Unfortunately and fortunately, depending on which perspective you are looking from, I’ve become very good at it. So good, in fact, I’ve been lying to myself and to you, my readers, for quite some time. By no means was this lie intentional but it has come to my attention that I have not been grieving after all and this is unfortunate.

My heightened ability to distract myself has resulted in sudden anxiety attacks at the most inopportune times – not that there’s ever an opportune moment to suffer an anxiety attack. They’re highly unpleasant to put it mildly. I’m not going to delve into the nitty-gritty details of these attacks but suffice it to say that the inner self-work I am conducting on a daily basis is about to be taken to the next level with the hopes and the goal that I can find some relief.

One of the ways in which I avoid and justify my lack of grieving is by asking myself and others, “What’s the point?” If I really took the time and endeavored to answer that question, I reckon I’d discover a very large point, perhaps several large points, but as of right now, it is all too painful. Baby steps, I suppose? I place a question mark there because I’m clueless right now – I don’t know what it’s going to take.

Almost four years ago, I lost the most important person in my life. I can’t even do much more describing of her than that – the most important person in my life. Yes, it is true but there’s so much more to her and yes, I’m speaking in present tense because just because her body is gone doesn’t mean her impression and her extraordinary contributions to this world and those around her are gone. And as I’m typing this, I’m getting angry and as I’m describing to you in the present moment my very emotions, I feel like a scared little girl who wants to run and hide in her fucking closet from the boogie man, the monsters under the bed – from grief.

And the self-coaching continues – that was good, Linds. Let it out. But is it really good? Is it really as simple as stating how goddamned angry I am because I can’t pick up the phone tomorrow and wish my mother a happy 60th birthday or send her a birthday card via snail mail? She used to write me all the time when I first moved away to college. I did the same. I can recall being in sketching class, writing my mama a four-page letter rather than sketching the latest Vogue magazine cover girl. Perhaps that’s why I suck at it so bad and resorted to a career using the computer instead of the pencil.

There ya go, Linds – you’re reminiscing. You’re conjuring up a lovely memory, one that you haven’t thought of in quite some time, the inner voice continues.

I’m still completely ignorant as to how to healthily mourn the loss of my mother without feeling like I’m going to stop breathing, like my heart has literally been ripped from my chest by the boogie man since I didn’t really believe in the whole monsters under the bed BS. As I typed the word, “healthily” in reference to mourning, I wondered if there really is a healthy manner in which to mourn? Some, including myself, might even argue that self-medicating isn’t necessarily healthy but it sure as shit helps at times. *See WINE

So, there ya have it – I lied. I’ve just been putting one foot in front of the other asking the world and myself along the way, “What’s the point?” Living my life as an orphan who is too prideful and too untrusting to ask for help when she needs it, I’ve adapted to a life with so much to look forward to, so much too painful to look back at and an unsettling present that constantly feels like it’s missing something. I’ve adapted to always expecting the worst and to not being fazed if and when the worst commences because, “What’s the point?” After all, life’s too short – There’s no time to be debilitated by grief.

I think the crucial part that I’ve been missing in this whole avoidance of grief’s burden, however, is that it will eventually catch up to me and unless I allow it to take its natural course and learn how to manage it, I will continue to commit a very slow suicide.

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4 thoughts on “It’s Suicide

  1. Poor baby girl. You sound like you are in so much pain. If your Mom was here she would put her arms around you and tell you it will be ok. I know we have never met face to face but I feel a special love for you because of your Mom. She lives on in you, and she wants you to be ok and go on and live the life that God has planned for you. You are beautiful, smart, and have so much to look forward to in life if you just learn to let go some and see all the beauty around you. Yes, it sucks your Mom and Dad are gone but, you know that they want you to be happy. Yes, you are going to miss them at times like this. I still send my Mom a balloon to Heaven every Mother’s day and I don’t do it without crying. I put her name on it and tell her I love her and let it go. I miss her my Dad, and my sister that I was so close to so much still that I think I cry myself to sleep over it. Then I wake up to a new day and find good in that day somehow, someway. I know I ask God daily to help me and I know he is there. Please take care of yourself and yes, keep on writing. I love your realness (if that is a word)
    Love and many, many hugs. Joan

    1. Hi Joan, No worries – I really am alright – doing the best I can, that is. My mama was such a loving and lovable woman, I can understand the connection you feel having known her. I know they want me to be happy and I’m actively in pursuit of this. For the most part, I am happy…just difficult for me to think of them (bad and good memories) without feeling completely debilitated. I find good in each and every day, rest assured. I like your ritual with the balloon. That is so nice and perhaps, I need to begin something similar. Thank you for your sincere sentiments and for continuing to read. I do hope you are well. Much love and hugs back, Lindsay

  2. Wow. Reading your blogs just made me feel 1000x less crazy and alone. It feels like there is no one else in the world that has lost their mom and is unable to understand the grieving process that followed that loss. It’s been 8 months to the date – the only measurement of time I swear is ” how long ” it’s been and the 10th of Any month will be anther full rounded month since I watched a life end. It is comforting that someone relates to wanting to crawl up in a ball and hide for these significant dates although it makes my heart break that there’s this type of suffering in the lives of people with a genuine heart like yours. I am sorry that you have to deal with this but I’m glad that I’m not alone.

    Sam

    1. Hi Sam, thank you for your message. I’m very glad you’re finding continued support in my blog. I’m constantly thinking “how long it’s been since…” It certainly is nice to be reminded that I’m not alone.

      Take Care,

      Lindsay

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