I haven’t written here for weeks…I couldn’t put my thoughts together. My head and heart have been feeling messy.
Mainly because I am still angry, and that makes me feel even worse. I don’t WANT to be angry any more…I am exhausted from it. How is it possible to be angry but not have the energy to be angry…all at the same time? The guilt I have for being angry with you and missing you is enough to wear me out. I feel such mixed emotions. Trying to hate a thing that you can’t touch is really hard. My hurt needs a target, something solid, for the grief. What burns me even more is that I know you would tell me it’s ok to be angry. Cara, you were so logical at seeing things clearly for others. So, so wonderful at listening and validating how someone else was feeling. I am still sad you couldn’t do that for yourself.
When someone is sick with a disease that can be seen, there is a no-brainer approach from others. No one blames the person who is sick. Then I feel bad, again. How can I be furious with you for being ill? I find that my hurt is placing responsibility on you for not healing yourself when it would be absurd of me to expect the same of someone else with a physical illness. And even crazier, is I wouldn’t blame myself for not saving someone battling cancer… but yet I find myself doing just that here. The fact is, that almost 4 months later, I still feel like a jumble of emotions. I honestly don’t think it will ever fully go away.
Maybe I am not strong enough in my faith or beliefs? I question myself over and over on why I can’t let go of being angry at you. Then it turns into feeling like a ‘bad’ Christian because I am struggling. I know I would be supportive of a friend if this was flipped around…and there’s the irony, folks. In the end, it’s the same idea. Easy to help others, near impossible to help myself. I guess writing this out brings some clarity I needed. I get it a little more.
Our boys are starting high school next year. You should be here. Four short years and they will be ‘adulting’ out in the real world. You’ll miss it.
It was finally sunny this week. You’re missing it. It snowed. You missed that, too. Funny movies coming out, art projects from school, family celebrations, graduations, weddings…you will miss it all.
When my thoughts race with all you gave up on being here for, I get angry. So angry. And sad.
It’s not anger and sadness for me…I feel it for your family. Your babies, your sister, your momma. You robbed them of memories that they should be making. Your friends. So many adventures and laughs we won’t get to share with you.
I know being angry is all part of processing the loss when suicide happens. But no one tells you just how often and long the anger lasts. It’s been a month and I want to give you the silent treatment. How does that work now? I can’t just ignore your texts or calls because I’m furious with you. Can’t send you to voicemail or pretend you’re off some where and I just haven’t seen you for a while…
I can’t understand, I can empathize…but understanding… I just can’t. You’re missing so much, Cara. Every moment of happiness will have a tinge if sadness now. Because every time we laugh or smile…the sadness and harsh truth that you should be here creeps in. It’s like a thief. Stealing part of every joyful moment that has and will happen. Watching your kids grow up, how can you miss that?
My soul is crushed that you thought we would all be better without you here. That the darkness and depression had you believing that your life was better being ended. I want to hold you so damn tight and beg you to stay. Tell you we love you, I love you, until you believe it. Until you feel it. Until you can love yourself.
I bought you flowers today. I didn’t want to. There were small Harry Potter decorations in them. You would have loved it.
Today I had to choose an outfit for your funeral.
This is something I was not at all prepared to do. My heart wanted to put it off, thinking if I didn’t get dressed, this wouldn’t be real. I didn’t want to sit in a hard wooden chair next to your pictures. I didn’t want to have to be introduced to extended family or old friends I didn’t want to watch your babies be bombarded with sadness and adults wanting to hug them for their own grief. I didn’t want to watch as your momma’s tears fell, as your sister fought to be strong, as your friends all held each other and wept and asked why. I wanted to stomp my foot like a toddler, throw a fit to get my way. I wanted to selfishly ignore and deny reality and scream that it’s not fair. It isn’t. It never will be. Death is a word that people accept reluctantly. Suicide is a word that people awkwardly dance around and avoid.
There is never a good enough answer to why. Never enough for comfort. If I avoid the clock and hours moving forward, can I avoid the last goodbye? I desperately wish I could. I’d cocoon myself on the couch and binge watch Friends reruns and miss you, or close my eyes and try to sleep away the pain. No matter what I do it catches up. Every. Time.
I am still so angry with you. It comes in waves and is not as strong as the grief at times. Why, will never be answered fully enough for my heart to be comforted. I will never understand. I only find comfort in my faith, in God’s promise of peace. Even that is hard.
Cara, I wish I could have done more. Rationally I know that no one could, but my heart yearns to reach yours. To help you fight the darkness. To keep you here.
I love you, Cara.
‘Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt.’
*this was one of her favorite songs*
I am so ANGRY at you. I’m angry at myself. You’ve been my rock. I’ve been yours. You’re one of my best friends. I want to shake you. I want to scream at you. I want to send you another text since you ignored my last one. I want to hate you…how could you do this? How could you leave us? Me? Them? Who do I text in the middle of the night? Who do I text when I need to talk about stupid, stupid shit? Who’s going to text me about stupid shit? I want you to yell at me again for still not watching all of the Harry Potters. Why do I have to live now replaying over every word we last said to find meaning so there can be a reason? Why does the last time we were together have to haunt me now? Why??? Damn it why? How could you do this…why…why…why…
We need you. They need you. I need you. Why didn’t you answer my last text…why do I have to go to your funeral, now? Why do I have to stop myself from texting or calling you or sending you a funny meme…why do I have to watch your babies try to understand something I can’t even wrap my head around? I want an answer. I want you to walk in so I can shake you and yell at you. Tell you that I’m here. You know I’ve always been here. Please. Just hold on to us, let us hold on to you. This is NOT why your momma should be calling me. No. No. No…
Why? What have you done? What the hell were you thinking? How could you possibly believe any of us would be better without you here? I love you…I miss you…
A bittersweet melody threatens to wrench me back into feelings I am desperate to leave behind.
It takes just a few chords for my heart to seize and my eyes to dampen with memories. Sometimes wonderful and happy. Other times, nostalgic and grief filled. To this day, I can’t make it through Warren Zevon’s ‘Keep me in your heart for awhile’ without breaking down or needing to turn it off. My dad… I miss him.
Other songs throw me back to amazing times with friends and growing up…either cruising town in pickup trucks or by a bonfire in a muddy field. Music connects me to certain people and times, like a soundtrack for my life.
Memories of driving home from college on Fridays will always be accompanied by Nazareth. Then there’s the most recent connections. An old country duet, a classic 70’s tune and a song by Eric Church will forever be tattooed on my heart with only one name. The lyrics, putting into words, what I can’t bare to utter out loud.
Tired as a mother. Saw this on shirt and I need it. Tired is my life. I’m finding lately it’s not just physical exhaustion, it’s emotional and mental exhaustion. My mind is done. Over. Pretty sure it checked the hell out back around the holidays. Every day I have littles that need me. They need food, they need love, the need more juice…I’m constamtly in charge and I sometimes I don’t want to be. Oh, I know I put myself in this position, this role. I love my kids. My blood and my borrowed ones. I’m extremely blessed to work from home, to help my friends with their most precious gifts and getting to be present as my 2 teenagers get home every day. I know all this. Sometimes I just don’t care. I want, no, I need to complain. To vent out loud that I really wish some days I only had to worry about my own bodily functions.
Then I stop. I breathe deep and I remember the prayers I said. Prayers to become a mother; prayers to find a way to support my kids and myself. It’s also nice to know I’m not alone. That I’m not a bad person for feeling this way. So for every mom who aches as she has to leave her baby and go to work, there’s still moms like me.
I started a blog years ago. Actually it feels more like a different lifetime. When I look back I don’t even resemble that person.
Her life revoloved around being a wife, a mother to young boys and keeping a home. The ‘now’ me is a single mom to 2 teenagers and works long weeks working from home while trudging through the mine fields of co-parenting and dating. Most weeks I’m exhausted, eat more than I should and have a great romance with Netflix. The most pronounced change? Happiness. As in I have it.
I didn’t even realize that my inner light was extinguished. I put my kids and family first and lost myself in the mean time. Like a caged animals that’s never had freedom, I had to learn to LET myself be happy . An amazing thing happened as I did, I became ME. The me that smiled and laughed, the me that loved life…I had forgotten about her. Or actually I didn’t realize I lost her as much as I did!
A strange thing happened as my happy came back; I turned into the mom I always thought I’d be.
(For anyone interested my blog before was https://fumblingthru.wordpress.com )
Here starts the word vomit and inner turmoil that plagues my mind. You’ve been warned. I definitely go better with wine.