“It happened for a reason”

“It happened for a reason.” This platitude pisses me off more than any other. “If God closes a door, he opens a window.” NO. Fuck you.

I really hate that crap. Sometimes things happen for NO reason. Explain cancer. Accidents. Crib death. Job loss. All that crap. Do I think things happen to make way for better things to happen? NO.

Don’t get me wrong, that doesn’t mean that I don’t believe in God or that you can’t come back from adversity. But I don’t think that bad things happening to good people means that there is something better to come. Sometimes it just sucks. That’s it.

I had repeat shoulder surgery at the beginning of July, and the recuperation is going pretty well. Better than last time, for sure. But a tough time with PT. I keep going, trying to manage the pain, but it is getting better. But are you saying that my first surgery failed so I can have a BETTER surgery? No. Fuck you. Going through this crazy pain AGAIN is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

My mom dies of cancer. Reason? Cancer sucks, that’s why.

One of my friend’s husbands was struck by a car and died yesterday. We are all devastated. Should I tell my new widow friend that it happened for a reason and that it will make way for better? Hell no.

Hurricane Dorian devastated the Bahamas. Reason? That’s the way the planet works. No master plan. No other reason than that.

My point here is simple. Adversity, bad experiences, accidents. These things happen. Not because they are meant to be. But simple because they happen. You can persevere. You can move on. You can learn and grow. You can accept.

You can choose to be a better person each and every day. But don’t ever tell me that it happened for a reason. I might punch you.

1 year

 

New year, new ??

I’m back in my hometown for the New Year. Today I saw my dad, two of my sisters and my brother. Later, I asked my dad for something of my mom’s to keep and his response floored me. “You girls pretty much wiped everything out,” he said.

What? WHAT!!

I have been giving my dad time to grieve. He put up no decorations for the holidays this year, saying that mom took them with her. I know what he means. I have not been in my parents’ house longer that 2 minutes since her death.

But apparently two of my sisters went over to my parents’ house and took what they wanted of my mothers stuff. One sister, I’ll call her Debbie, took her good china, recipes, and anything she could find of value. I know she took the china and recipes because another sister, Amy, really wanted them. The rest, she is trying to sell. I’m heartbroken and disgusted by her behavior. I only hope that the other sister, Mary, took stuff so that it could be given fairly. Amy was crying, and I have nothing to comfort her with. If my dad allowed it, it isn’t stealing. It is jackass behavior though. My husband lost both his parents this decade, and the kids are being careful to share and split things evenly. But in my family, not so much. It isn’t the monetary value of things that I care about, but the emotional attachment or thoughts behind them.

I got a Beanie Baby.

I didn’t give my mom this. I don’t know where she got it. But it was near her bedside, and my dad offered it, so here it is. A beanie baby.

Happy new years, I guess.

Fuckers. Damn I HATE feeling so negative. I HATE drama. I HATE that some people are out for themselves with no consideration for others. I HATE this. I won’t tell my dad, because that would not be fair to him. But I HATE it.

Well, happy Thanksgiving to you too, Grief!

Thanksgiving was going great. My younger son and The Husband and I went to my older son and his wife’s place a few hours away. We had the whole feast that you’d expect: turkey, stuffing, gravy, deviled eggs, the whole nine yards. Most of it made by me, but I’m not complaining. We all enjoyed the day, talking and laughing. We made fun of the older son because he has developed a belly since he married.

After dinner, I excused myself to call my dad before we had dessert. I wanted to make sure I didn’t lose the chance when we started to play games.

So I called my dad. He was leaving my sister’s house where he had dinner. He said he had a nice time.

All I could think of was my mom. One minute, I was fine, the next I was remembering how she ALWAYS answered the phone “Happy Thanksgiving!” all Thanksgiving day.

That was it. I sat there on the blow-up bed, crying my eyes out. Fucking grief. I hate you.

I need a break – so I’ll take one

Stress kills, from what I’ve heard.

I got the results of my tests back, and I’m fine. No cancer that they have found. So, yay!

Work is stressful. Living with a few other adults is stressful. I’m tired and sad a lot. We had a hurricane to get through, which my town did very well, luckily. But it did impact my planned trip with friends for this weekend. This weekend, I am headed to a somewhat local beach with friends to recharge and unwind a bit.

Hurricane Michael almost ruined it all, but we were lucky that our house was fine. We won’t have internet or tv, but that is fine. The important part is being with friends and being at the beach. It’s my happy place.

I really need it right now. I go 15 miles on the highway then 5 more miles through town to get my son from college twice a week. This gives me way too much time to think, and I always end up silently crying on the way, tears streaming to my chin. I think about my mom, and my friend Green. I wonder if I could have been a better friend and daughter. If I could have had a chance to say goodbye. But know that it’s too late, and always will be. I think about my mom being so difficult in her later years, being racist, holding grudges. I think about how she was a victim of her stepfather, and how she basically got married and moved halfway across the country just to escape him. About when I was in college, she came to visit me in the dorm because she wanted a taste of the life she never got to have.

I think of all of this as I’m driving. I pull myself together in time to arrive at the college. So it’s just me.

The beach soothes my soul somehow. I need time there, and time alone. I need time to see friends, and go on drives alone near the water. I need to get away and breathe again. To find the rhythm of the sea.

Time in a Bottle

Missing her, and other news

So it’s been awhile, except for the #WhyIDidntReport essay. I wasn’t sure I was going to continue this blog, but here I am. I still may quit, I might not. Who knows?

Yesterday was my mom’s birthday, and no doubt the hardest day since she died. I had no chance to grieve since it was also the day crap decided to rain down on me.

My work sucks. Yesterday I got yet another client to add to my already overloaded schedule. I had such a late day with so much going on, I didn’t get home until more than 12 hours since I left, which is a truly long day. So much shit that I can’t even remember it all. I just know that it took everything I had not to break down before arriving home. But I held it together long enough to get home and my husband was not there for me the way I needed.

You see, my brother was just diagnosed with thyroid cancer. He’s only 38. He is also the only parent to a nine year old girl, since her mom dies when she was 2. That alone is scary, and I’m scared for him.

Yesterday I got a call from my doctor’s office with the results of some blood work I had done. They are concerned about some of my numbers and so are sending me in for additional tests. On my thyroid. Ultrasound, additional blood work.

I’m scared and sad and frustrated and I feel like falling apart, but I have no one to fall apart with.

I know it should be my husband, but it isn’t. I can’t explain it, but he is going through so much himself, and I don’t want to burden him, but he does know about it all.

I hate being a burden. I don’t want to be a big Wendy Whiner, so I’ll whine on here, to you all. Thanks for that.

 

Change is hard

Mother’s Day was pretty hard, just as I thought. I had plenty of family to call and be there, but it wasn’t the same. All but one person wanted to support me, offer their condolence, asked how I was.  At church that morning, I had plenty of people tell me that they were thinking of me. My boss told me the Friday before the weekend, as well. I am blessed that so many are thinking of me at such a tough time. I suppose it will be better another year, but again, I don’t see how. It still hurts.

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Life is a weird bird. Just when you think you have things figured out, you get thrown for  a loop. You never know what’s around the corner, and as much as you might try to prepare, sometimes you just have to roll with the punches.

There, I think I put enough old-hat adages in one post. So let me start over.

My first Mother’s Day without a mom

So I head to Walmart to get some stuff. And of course there is a bunch of Mother’s Day stuff out. I walk through, tears dripping down my cheeks, as I make my way to the beauty section.

I check my email, and every other one includes a reference to Mother’s Day. This restaurant’s ad. This website’s sale.

I listen to the radio on the way to work and the commercials for “Show her you care” and “What are you thinking of getting mom for Mother’s Day” fills the air.

This is hard. I am trying to be okay. I’m better than before, but still have fits of anger and feelings of sadness that comes and goes.

But now I avoid Walmart. Any store like that, really. Grocery shop at a regular grocery store. Go through the clothes section to get places when I HAVE to get something like office supplies.

I know in two weeks I’ll have to be strong on Mother’s Day. I’ll have to not fall apart when my kids wish me a happy Mother’s Day. I’ll have to remember that I  had a lot of opportunities to tell her how much I appreciated all she did.

I just wish I could have told her one more time.

Do not go shopping when depressed

I went looking for a dress for my niece’s wedding today. Big mistake. I was doing okay, actually not feeling bad.

That all changed when I shopped for a dress.

You know, I’m kind of an asshole

I’ve been pretty much an asshole lately. I’ve said things I don’t mean to people I care about. I get frustrated by stuff that I usually let pass. It’s as if my mother’s passing has released my inner bitch.

I hate it.

I’m not a mean person, at least not deliberately. I believe that treating others with kindness and respect is our responsibility as humans. I’ve always had the mindset that people are trying to do their best. They aren’t deliberately being obnoxious, rude, or stupid. They are just trying to get by, like everyone else.

Now I’ve made someone cry by being mean, and I hate it. For the past week or so, I just say whatever the fuck comes to my mind. I just spit it out. Everyone gets it. The boyfriend, the son, coworkers, and so on. It isn’t as if I set out to be that way. I just have no patience with adults pissing me off.

Ugh.

#nofilter

What stage of grief is this?