It's the world's worst blogger, checking in to say I'm alive and breathing.
My last post was two days before Mom's birthday. Last year I walked into my season of grief with a plan. This year I wanted to pretend it wasn't happening.
Two years. It's been two years since my Mom left earth. I somehow thought I'd be "farther along" the grief trail by now. Maybe I didn't need a plan because I had already been through all the "firsts".
I case you're wondering, grief is not a trail. It's like a weird fog that creeps in without you really noticing. You only notice it once it's totally clouded your view. It can come any time. There is no time limit.
I know. I know no one really wants to hear about the grief. It's uncomfortable. Even though I have experienced deep grief, sometimes the grief of others makes me uncomfortable. I feel like one of my gifts is encouragement. I want to use my words to help others feel better. When my words fall short, I get uncomfortable.
So, I get it.
But, all I can do is pretend it didn't happen or tell you about it. Lucky for you, I'm telling you about it. The good news is, you don't have to look me in the eye. :) You can read and feel uncomfortable all by yourself!
The pattern of grief for me begins in December. December is when my mom got her diagnosis, and really, it was that day, not the day of her death, when everything changed. The weirdest part is, my BODY remembers. Even when my conscious mind is not paying attention, my physical body begins to grieve. Are you weirded out yet?? And, it seems that each time it's going to take me at least a week to figure out what's going on.
By the way, December is a really unfortunate time to be struggling. Around here it is brutally busy and there is no time to be under grief's fog. As Anne Lamott says, "Sometimes grief can look a lot like narcolepsy." (I could hear some of you getting heart palpitations at my mention of Lamott. Relax. I have not subscribed to her beliefs. I just like people who tell the brutal truth.)
The good news is, I have these two amazing kids who make it impossible for me to stay in bed for three months. I have these two kids who are seriously awesome. And hilarious. And tender-hearted. Someday when they're old enough not to be weirded out, I'll thank them for bringing me through times like this.
Outwardly, I kept going for those three months. My conscious continued to try and ignore the situation. My body continued to let none of us forget.
Y'all. Missing her does not get one tiny bit easier.
I don't like to admit that I still really struggle with every tiny bit of it. My poor sisters have to rehash the same doubt filled conversation with me about once every six months. But, it's where I am.
Some of you are racing to your prescription pad to write me a prescription for some nerve pills! Believe me, I'm keeping close tabs on the medication needed line!
Last week, God and I had a moment of grace and the fog lifted for now. I'm looking forward to a time out in the light!