“Simple Kind of Life”

I haven’t posted anything in a bit. I started one last week and never finished it because I felt like I was harping on something that was said to me, but honestly, I am having such a hard time processing that conversation and, mainly, because of that, I have been feeling so conflicted. I hate to feel that way because I feel in a way it’s disloyal to my mom. It’s not that at all, if anything, it’s my loyalty to her that is making me so angry at everyone… Not everyone, a few people in particular. I flit back and fourth between feeling like I am normal… that my devastation and sadness and grieving are normal. There are a group of people and many things online that agree with that. Everything I have read about grieving says that everyone grieves in their own way and that there is no timetable. I understand that I am “hermatizing” (my moms old neighbors said that is what I am doing – I certainly know it’s not a word) and I am. Here’s the thing… I have always been a hermit. I have never been one with a lot of friends or one that likes to go clubbing or bar hopping or walking downtime or spending time with anyone of the opposite sex (I feel I am too ugly for that and have had lengthy relationships in the past) and so this is all pretty normal. Anything I did was around the house. I have almost an acre with way too many cats that have adopted me and several chickens. During the summer, just the normal upkeep of the yard keeps my off days busy and taking care of the animals fills in the rest. I want to have friends and a husband one day but I have developed a very independent life that was co-dependent on my mom. I did everything with her. She lived behind me so would come over on the weekends to help keep an eye on different things I needed an extra eye for (burning of all the trees that fall down – I never even knew how much there would be with a house). She didn’t drive so I took her where she needed to go. If I went somewhere, she went. If I was bored, I would hop the fence and go to her house and sit and just chat with her. We talked to each other several times a day on the phone.  A call in the morning, several throughout the day and then a good night call at the end of the night. I get maybe to some that is to much but she was my best friend. I told someone about 6 months ago that I didn’t have a “ride or die” friend… I did and didn’t realize it until she left me. It was my mom. She was my “ride or die” and she died. Everything that happened to me in a day, she knew about. EVERYTHING. I could wine and moan and groan and cry and be angry and rant and rave to her and she would always listen and would agree, disagree or just tell me that she loved me and it would all be alright. I cannot get people to understand how different my relationship with my mom was compared to other mom and child relationships. It feels like from the beginning, in a way, we swapped roles and I was the mother and she was the daughter. My others siblings have the normal child relationship with her but I, for whatever reason felt a responsibility for her from a very early age. My dad was an alcoholic and was abusive to her, physically and mentally/emotionally. I was the oldest and saw a lot of it. I will get into more of that in another blog but that has a lot to do with who I am and the responsibility I felt for her.  I would have anxiety attacks because I didn’t want to go to school because I wanted to be with her.  They grew worse as I got older and missed a lot of school because of it.  I just had to be with her.  When I was little, I would sneak out of my bed in the middle of the night, after her and my dad would be asleep, and would sleep underneath the bed, on her side.  I couldn’t say the night with friends or even family (unless it was our grandma and even that was hard as I got older) because I couldn’t be away from my mom.  I would cry and feel so anxious being away from her.  I was 21 or 22 when I moved out and that was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.  I told her that if it was okay in today’s world to still be living with her mom, I would have. I would have lived with her forever but  I knew that I needed some separation though because I did want to get married and have my own family – which is something I still desperately want.  I wanted for her to be able to enjoy her grandchildren which is something we talked about often, up until she died.  I failed her.  I failed her in so many ways.

With all of that said… I am still where I began.  I am sad and feel like I have that right and will never dishonor my mother by acting like I am okay.  That is one thing I have always told people – new friend, new employees… people I deal with on a daily basis – I will always be honest.  I won’t hide anything and that applies to my feelings and emotions.  I will control my emotions as best as I can and will always be professional but I will not fake a smile to take care of someone else right now.  This is about me and my mom and my loss.  It’s not about the social butterfly that people need to see right now.  I am not comforting them….  I am trying to comfort myself.  I lost a huge part of my heart and who I am.  In a way… I lost a child.  I hate saying that because a parent should NEVER lose a child and I know that it’s not the same and do not want to disrespect anyone that has lost a child but right now it’s the only way I can express my loss.