In The New Year

Its been awhile since I've written. A little over 2 months. Christmas and New Year has come and gone. Much has transpired. Maybe I'll be able to share, but for now I can just say- emotionally exhausting, but not without beauty. I'm well into my resolutions at this point. Kind of got a head start.

I just read an article about blogging. How its so popular and self-indulgent. Since, I am completely self-absorbed right now- I wondered if I should revisit this blog. Its as good as any, I thought. People write about wine, child rearing, their pets, so forth...Why couldn't I continue to write about the bereavement process with the same indulgent fervor? Some might think it should be a personal journey not meant to be shared in this manner, but I enjoy writing and have learned rather recently that I could care less what a lot of people think. Could care less in that liberated 'I'm going to do it anyway because at the end of the day you could hurt me no more than I've already been hurt'.

So, with that logic, I will write at my leisure...any morbid thought i feel, any insight I can share, any neuroses I need to purge. And, I will be forgiving of myself and fine with my punctuation errors and any bad grammar or syntax, How it flows out is how it comes out...because I want it out. I want what I'm feeling to be in and out at the same time. Writing anchors me and I've been flailing about in stormy waters for awhile.

My mom used to say, "Heather, whatever you write, I will want to read. When you write your first book- I don't want you to give me a copy- I want to buy a copy"
"Of course, I'd never have you buy a copy, Mom!"...that's what I would always say.

But, she would protest. Thank you mom for reading my stories when I was a kid and for keeping them when I was throwing them out. I will try to have that faith in myself you so generously had for me. A faith that is beyond the belief in one's own talents or gifts, but the faith that encourages the belief of self expression.. That it is good to pour yourself- outside of yourself. And- that we should trust in that mother principle, real woman or universal deity (how lucky to have both) to nurture that growth worthy and pure enough of sharing.

This New Journey

So, its been a over a month since I've been home. Tomorrow makes 2 months since mom left. Not now- but there are times that piece of reality hits me hard. A couple of weeks ago it hit me in the cereal aisle of the grocery store four blocks away from where I live. There, in front of the Captain Crunch, I went clean off. On God. Angry. Enraged. Fortunately for others, this lament went on in my head. I don't know how long I stood there- There with the bright harsh fluorescent lights above, the vivid colors of Fruity Pebbles, Tony the Tiger, and all things representing the childlike 'carefreelessness' of a Saturday morning crunching- with milk and no worries- I grieved. And, I grieved hard. I continue to grieve hard.

Because I valued my mother. I loved her. Adored her. Heeded her advice. Cared for her. Cleaned her. Fought for her. "There are people who don't value other people, let alone their own mothers!", I yelled at God. I LOVED MINE. Why??? Why, when I offered my suffering for her suffering? How could I give so much and have so much taken from me?
And, she suffered. She suffered tremendously. Her going was not a smooth one. Maybe in the last hours, but there were years, YEARS, of torment. So, I dared God to get mad at me. Because its not like we did not ENDURE. Oh, we endured, all right. So, HE (or SHE) was going to endure my rage.

Much has gone on since I've last written. Mostly, inside of me. There's a fiery sea churning about. A tempests of sorts. This would not appear so on my surface, but it is truly evident in my soul- coursing through my veins.

I've always found the metamorphosis of the caterpillar intriguing. But, not in the way most school children observe. You know, with cutesy songs of the transformation and colorful pictogram's illustration the stages. I was always intrigued with the process because I imagined the cocoon stage as mysteriously violent. Not violent in the most monstrous of ways, but, indeed violent in a certain catastrophic way. To go from this earth bound creature with its gazillion little legs and its methodical energy exertion of a crawl to a thin, light winged creature was so astounding to me. To the curious, head-tilting-to-the-side, human eye- the cocoon is silent, barely moving. Most children will wait, often impatiently, for the crinkling debut. But, to me, the sheer silence of that chrysalis stage signaled to me that something must be happening deeper...the cocoon- a claustrophobic pressure cooker for some event happening explosive on the cellular level...This is no mere debut as a dainty creature. Snakes shed their skin, so can spiders, lizards can detach parts- but to completely change the entire structure of who you are and emerge different- that is some sort of nature sorcery at work. And, it is that special alchemy of spirit I've always respected about the Butterfly.

There's an alchemy at work in my soul right now. I don't what the mixture contains or what I'm becoming. All I know is that I get angry at God while buying cereal, people irritate me easily, I haven't had one of those 'dreams' where she comes and talks to me and I'm getting childishly impatient at this. I can sleep for 9 hours straight and crave more and still, I'm tired all day.

I can feel the prick of winter coming. I know its early. I'm not hibernating. I'm 'cocooning'. And, right now, I'm a little wistful- I don't know what kind of creature I'm going to end up being (or uncover, for that matter). But, I will allow myself to surrender to the Change- in all of its catastrophic glory.

I have no choice. This is my destiny. These are the cards I've been drawn.

I surrender to nature's magick.

Leaving On A Jet Plane

At airport. Going home. NYC, that is. July 26th. That feels like ages ago. On that day I was flying in to Louisiana- in a completely different place. Now, I leave over 60 days later - completely different.

I am excited to go back home. More than ready to resume a routine. Find some order. Create some stability. But, leaving is bittersweet. This whole experience feels epic. Like comething out of a movie. And, why do we equate larger than life experiences to that of a movie, something fictitious? Perhaps, feeling this larger than life
is life.

I've learned much. I know I have much much more to learn still. I'm grateful. There were unexpected moments in this trip that felt 'cinematic', too. There were the intense family dramas that led to bigger family revelations. There were the rediscovered friendships that bloomed at just the right times. There were more losses, but never as large as the BIG one. There were many victories. Victories in spirit and growth. Comfort zones were stripped bare. Every part of me became vulnerable. Raw. Exposed. Every part of me became new soil. Unearthed. Now ready to be tended.

And, that's a revelation that I felt yesterday. Instead of obsessing over how to continue my journey, how to process it, how to craft it into something- I became reacquainted with my biggest lesson of all- Absolute Surrender.
Instead of crafting something out of all of this, I have chosen to allow myself to be crafted.

It is liberating to realize this. Takes the pressure off. In surrendering, I can find complete freedom.

I Pray In the Tub

There are just days before I leave. Back to my urban home. I miss it. Very much. But, I must say that anxiety is creeping upon me. Anxiety about leaving. I leave behind so much.

If told in advance that I would be spending a great portion of this year HERE in the south doing what I've done, I would have to been dragged kicking and screaming clawing anything within reach. Fortunately, I did not get that memo- hence, a bit more grace on my part. Coming home (Louisiana) always resurrects old and deep demons for me. Turbulence. Haunting remnants of the past. Very alive ghosts. Coming home always required much of me, much preparation, much prayers for strength.

And, though this trip has been the most painful of them all- I discovered hidden treasures. The beauty of true friends. The kind of friends that show up and are THERE when you need it- giving so freely gestures that do wonders for my spirit. Visiting with family and really listening to their stories- their trials, their triumphs, loves lost and gained. Being around for birthdays and gatherings. Eating so much comfort food that you are filled to the brim. Hearing distinct styles of talking only native to this region. Being pulled and called to slow down. Slow down with everything. Waiting in line, strolling, taking it easy. Watching sunsets unobstructed over fields and fields and fields.

All my senses are on fire, especially the ones unavailable to the naked eye. I don't know quite what to do with all of this raw feeling. Its not comforting to feel exposed. But, I feel I need to embrace all of this vulnerability. The only thing is- I hope to make good decisions out of this place. The kind of bold ones that people may question, but you feel secure about because they come unhinged and with absolute honesty. Because you are so exposed to your truest self underneath it all.

I suppose I should allow room for mistakes. Its just that mistakes now come at too high a price. Normal failures that I could shrug off carry much more of a blow because I am so weary.

So, I said a prayer. In the bathtub. I've been praying alot in the bathtub these days and will probably pray myself to sleep. I prayed for God to send me everything I need to get through this time. Strength, naturally. But, much more. I asked for the confidence to trust my instincts. I invited people in my life who will not require much from me but offer themselves freely and tenderly. I prayed to be equipped with an arsenal of supplies I'll need for these heavy days. Those supplies could come in the form of good movies, songs designed just for me, or just good company. I welcome it all. And, I told God that I expect all of this and more. Because it is a good thing to ask and an even greater thing to receive. Because it would be something he (and she) desires. So, I ask knowing it will come. Bountiful. In waves and waves and waves.

I prayed this. And, I feel calmer. I'll sleep tonight in the sea of this knowing.

One Bad Move...

So, the Big Move didn't go so well. Last minute, there were cancellations. I had a breaking moment. Fortunately, things and people came together. Though the move extended to an extra day, it got done. We are finished.
It was surreal cleaning the final touches to mom's apartment, mopping ourselves out.

Family tensions still brew. Anxiety rampant. Its been too long. Too much. Fighting for mom. Often fighting with each other. Needing family and also being around family too much. Big decisions. Little decisions. Huge consequences. Exhaustion beyond comprehension. Curve balls left and right. Always something.

Yesterday was bad. Another familial eruption. That was it for me. I'm done. Can't offer any more. I've reached my max. I'm there. A bill that I had was taken out of one of my accounts inappropriately. Had to make phone calls to clear it up. That was like running a marathon. I'm spent. So much to do, I can't even sit and grieve! Guess I have a lifetime for that. I'm one bad occurrence from a mental breakdown.

I wrote last night in my journal what I want. I want to be away from here. I want to exist elsewhere, preferably not in the physical world. Somewhere beyond. I want to exist in a time where mom is neither died nor is dead. I want everyone I love and care about to be content, but not necessarily near me. I want to be away. No responsibilities. No obligations. Wearing no masks. Near no one asking me how i feel. No one telling me 'your mother isn't suffering anymore'. I want to be away from people. Or, if there is people- let them require nothing of me. Just be there. I want to go where I can be raw and vulnerable in the presence of all things tender. I want to just be. Not even be myself. I'm a wreck. I want to just BE.

I want life to let me be.

The Big Move

Today should complete the big move of furniture remaining in mom's apartment. It will be a relief once that is done. It has been such a big hurdle. Next, we work on selling mom's car. After that, I look forward to using my last week in town just visiting friends and family. Good things to look forward to. My brother-in-law has a fight (boxing) this coming weekend. My sis, bro-in-law, and nephew will come up to NYC for a a week. That will be nice.

I miss home (NYC), but I know I will miss here. I'm a creature of habit and fell into a exhaustive, but regular routine here. Soon, it will be time to say good-bye to that, as well.

So many goodbyes.

Weary

Today has been tiring. But, then again, every day has been tiring. So, that is a given.
Today begins one moving session. With luck, mom’s apartment will be cleared by Monday evening.
One less thing.

Taping boxes, I broke. I don’t want to do this anymore. Sifting through her things. Old things I haven’t seen since I was a kid. Little items sent from afar. Unexpected findings that meant something to her. Thousands of pictures. It’s a knife slowly pushing in, reminding me as I push through, “She is not here”. Only her relics. Torturous. I want to be done.

Yet, I don’t. The more I clean, the more I sift, it brings me closer to the end. Another ending. The ending of ‘going through her stuff’. Then there will be the ‘clean of her apartment’. Then the last look around with the closing of the door and the returning of the key. That leads to finishing up her other affairs. Then making my rounds of visits. Then a goodbye to her grave. Then, a departure. Everything is perishing around me, ending. It hurts so much.

How do you want to run from where you are and stay at the same time?

But, I believe in cycles. Everything is cyclical. So, with endings, there are beginnings. The endings now are sure, definite, no going back. But, the beginnings? They are mysterious and foreign boxes to wrapped in huge questions marks. I hope to find some solace soon. I'd settle for sleeping for three weeks straight.