And all through the house…

Not a single holiday sentiment was stirring.

trying to find the words and all that comes is pain

pain, tinged with guilt and hatred

I see my words typed. words expressing the hurt of what is lost

delete. I hate myself for the words I spill.

I feel the destruction of my self as I turn the hurt inwards

hating myself for not being able to just be happy

let go of what was, I am told, over and over again

be happy for what I still have, I am told

the pain, the hurt, the fucking hurt

sears into me every day of this joyous season

coupled with loathing for my inability to just be happy again

I am sick to death of all the feelings that I can’t bear to feel anymore

sick of mourning and grieving what was

it isn’t easier, it isn’t getting better

the holidays were special to me. a time of family and being together

a time of cinnamon buns in the morning

leftovers and turkey sandwiches and bellies too full for dessert

of watching my family and feeling how “right” it all was

now gone.

take out in the fridge instead of it bursting with leftovers

no tree, no decorations, no ornaments dangling

no presents and stockings waiting for the morning

no holiday feeling at all

just pain and feeling how “wrong” it all is

Grief Lives Here

Grief lives here.

So does loss and pain and hurt.

So does joy and happiness and love so deep it’s bottomless.

As deep as the grief that fills me at times…like it is today.

Days when the months and years that have passed feel too short to have healed anything.

Days when it feels like time has not softened the edges of loss at all.

Days when the sadness and the heaviness weighs more than I think I can bear…again.

Days when the tears that are usually now further away are so close.

Moments when the only thoughts that fills my mind are the incredulous realities of loss.

Hours that are filled with memories I don’t want to see in my mind because of the hurt.

Nights when tears come hard and feel like they’ll never end…again.

The grief sometimes demands and takes center stage.

A life of its own and unable to be held in check or tempered when it comes.

It takes over, consuming and depleting me as it does. I tread water, holding my breath as the waves slam me. Trusting that I’ll rise up and that this will pass…again.

The truth is that now, unlike even a year ago, grief is not the dominant emotion for me anymore. Even though some days, like today, it feels like it is – I know that it has changed.

Yes, grief lives here, but so does so much more – again. Being able to see that truth is proof that I am more than the hurt and the pain … no matter how much I question that at times like today.

Good enough isn’t good enough

There comes a time in life when you look around and take stock and have to be honest with what and where you are.

Birthdays are that for me. Having just had one, it’s was a time to reflect and analyse.

I’ve had a life that was, at times, nasty and rough and hell to wake up to. This same life has had moments that took my breath away, times that I simply could not have been any happier without bursting was how I felt. Lots of times of just middle of the road “ok” as well. We all have. I know what it’s like to be miserable and unhappy in the truest meaning of those words. I count my blessings that my life is pretty good now. I have a lot to be thankful for – and I am.

So what’s worse than “bad”? It’s becoming complacent with less than what you really want. Becoming accepting and tolerant of the unacceptable.

So I asked myself what’s so unacceptable in my life? Settling. Not going hard for what I want. What I desire. Having dreams and goals and not making them happen.

I’m tired of listening to my Self desire and to seeing my Self no further towards the realization of that.

It’s easier to look around and say “it’s pretty good”. My son said to me the other day that he wonders who he thinks he is to feel that he should have it better than other people… That made me reply swiftly that not just him, but everyone, deserves – seriously deserves – the best and to have dreams and goals come to fruition. Then I had to sit back and wonder why I wasn’t necessarily living that sentiment myself.

I have been, for a couple of years now, allowing myself to start to grieve the death of my dreams as I get older. Shelving some aspirations as unrealistic or unachievable. Telling myself to stop dreaming and smarten up and just enjoy what I have and not desire anything else. There’s always something that comes up and demands energy and focus… and I allow that “something” to be not Me. I allow that “something” to take that focus and energy in entirety…leaving nothing for me to draw from to make happen what I want to happen.

I get slightly infuriated with myself when I take time to look at where I am with regards to achievements. Knowing that I am the only reason why I haven’t progressed further. Time to change that.

I look at travel options and lifestyle choices and I ponder and I think “one day” or “maybe” to things that I want, things that speak to me living my truths. Then I face the “why not?” … and the only answer is for me to get off my ass and make it all happen. No more waiting, no more “one day”. We all have a finite number of days and we don’t usually know what that magic number of them is, so….

Good enough isn’t good enough anymore. A nice life is nice…but I want one that sweeps me off my feet and leaves me breathless and grinning and saying “again!”. It’s my life, time to craft it, nurture it and make it that way.

Happy ——- Holidays

The holidays are here again and I’m not sure how to describe it other than; this sucks.

The music, the lights, the decorations and the constant ambience is creating a dilemma for me.

I always loved the holidays and part of me still, even now, has a giddy happy dance at the whole affair. That is tempered and edged with such a sharp pain of loss and hurt, with memories from that last Christmas that my boys and I were all together, that I’m not sure how to deal with it.

I’ve been advised that life changes, that kids grow up and move on and that the lives we live are always on flux… that even if Willie hadn’t gotten sick and suicide hadn’t taken him… that there would have been a time that I would have had to face “the holidays” not being what they were. I couldn’t agree more. Yet the issue I am dealing with is that life did not progress like that, and it hurts. I’m not dealing with empty nest issues; I’m bouncing between hurt and sincerely wanting to be able to just love this time of year again…

Instead of thinking of what is a time of family and time together and food and sharing and just being able to slow life down and be, I am plagued by memories of that last Christmas. How surreal and wrong it felt. How it was merely going through the motions. We were all reeling from weeks of hospitalization and counselling and the chaos of dealing with a not-really-managed mental illness. The joy of that holiday time was gone. Killed by exhaustion and fear.

It’s not a case of me not being able to just focus on the good and on what’s still here. It’s being hit by the memories, by the loss.

The anger and frustration that I have for myself for NOT just being able to pick up and smile and decorate and be thankful for what is now and not be mourning what isn’t… that anger and frustration gets worse each year. Even writing this I feel the self-hatred for how pathetic that sounds. I want to shake myself and scream and tell myself to stop whining and just suck it up and put it behind me and move on. And I can’t. I hear the well-meaning friends voices in my head that say that I’m making a choice to keep dwelling, to not move forward… and that it’s not that I “can’t” move on, I can if I “want to”. I feel like no one gets it. Then I wonder if it’s me that’s the one who doesn’t get it. The anger and frustration and self-hatred spins around and around…
Happy fucking holidays.