Living

I've been wanting to write for days. Have you ever had an experience that can't be articulated? An experience that you swear no one could ever understand? That you yourself aren't sure you understand. That's been my life the last few years. First my father's death and the numbness that came with it. The people who left, the people who I asked to leave, and the people who stayed. At times I just have memories flood through me like a river. This weekend it wasn't about my father but rather my mother. My mother who almost lost her life and I just can't help but think I wasn't there soon enough. And when I arrived she had no idea who I was. It is the single most frightening event that I have experienced. It took my breath away, it shattered my heart, it turned me silent. And now months later I wonder how we survive such an experience. I spent days in the hospital with her. My brother spent more time. I am only 31. And I begin to wonder what the universe is trying to teach me and why I am the one who needs to learn this lesson. Will it provide a greater gift to the universe?

I remember walking into the room and taking my mother's hand looking into her eyes. She stared back but it was so frightening. She looked straight through me as if she did not recognize me. As if I barely existed. She could only reply in one word answers. She wasn't there, she has no memory of me arriving. And I can't help but remember this time, remember how I felt. There was regret, fear, and loneliness in my heart. All I could grab hold of was the practical. I was desperate for something to do. I couldn't help her, I couldn't save her, and yet I know it's not my responsibility. But the vulnerability of the experience is what hits me now. The realization that people couldn't quite understand what I was facing, how truly bad it was. That it wasn't a choice to get on that plane. My mother was dying.... and those are the words that strike me now. What does death truly mean? Fragility, chance, change, metamorphosis? Yes all of it. And I step out of the despair of my vulnerability and step into an experience of a chance to change everything. To have a relationship with my mother, to connect, be and share with her.

Lately, I have been going through an experience. If you are a stranger reading this, I have struggled all my life acknowledging my sexuality and figuring out what that means has been a challenging. Where on the spectrum do I land? Do I need a label? Or could I just let the universe show me to the person that could make me happy on all levels? I'd like to think that is possible. I've been trying to meet new people and a variety of ways. First I joined a faith community for the first time. It's been wonderful. I got invited to a Soup dinner, and well it was not what I expected. I know I dress comfortably and many assume I'm gay, but truthfully I am unsure. Well this dinner party was full of lesbian couples. I had a good experience. I don't know if I'll go back but maybe. And I truly don't know where I stand. There's also a man at Church that has caught my interest. This all feels important to share with my mother, to bridge the gap, and not worry about responses. It's time to live life.

What are you waiting for? What holds you back from living your dreams? What holds you back from living?

Day of the Dead

This past month at Church has been about Death. I've never been somewhere where death is spoken to so directly and beautifully. Some days I can believe that my father is in each whisper in the wind, the rain that flows down, and each flower and piece of nature surrounding me. I felt it today. And yet there is such a deep emptiness, a deep sense of trauma, of unfairness that I can't shake. It builds a wall between myself and the world. I can't describe how deeply alone I feel most days, how deeply I wish I could dig a hole and cry. And yet during the day of the dead ceremony no tears flowed. I can feel that there is so much I want to express. I wish I could say that it is okay that it's taking me so long to grieve. But I feel as though I am letting my father down. I can feel the anger brew, I feel stuck in three years ago. The moment you receive a call like that there is no erasing it. It replays in my head over and over again. My brother crying on the phone in a way that no one can understand. My mother asking what she should do with the body. Then asking me to decide if I wanted to see him. God, I still don't know if I made the right decision. Maybe it would have brought it home. There were so many decisions that I had no capacity to make. And now all I want is some peace in my heart. I want to speak to him again. I would give almost anything to talk to my father again. I miss him terribly. I miss him in my bones. And I feel so conflicted inside. Between whether I should or shouldn't. It eats at my bones. Maybe we did have an unhealthy relationship, maybe maybe maybe. I don't know. The intensity of what I feel cannot be described. I look at all I've been through in the last three years and I want to scream at the unfairness. The unfairness to my family. The unfairness of life. And yet I see beauty, it filters in. I feel it. I witness it. But the time now feels so internal. I don't really want to be touched. I don't want to be held. The time has passed and now I witness the anger that runs through my heart. Wishing so deeply to be seen and heard in the real way. I don't want to be pitied. I don't want sympathy. I want you to see me as human, a wounded being that truly just wants to be loved for where I am. To honor my soul's journey. And I realize not everyone is able to do this. Many people do not have the capacity to step outside of themselves.

And I just pray that my mother will heal. That we will all heal from the inside out. And learn how to find the beauty in the world again.

My Grief is Only Mine

Today in Church we discussed "A Grief Observed". She described how our grief is only ours. No one can truly understand what we feel, what we gain, or what we lose from loss. The depth of feeling that still exists inside of me after 2 and half years without my father is indescribable. By expressing that you understand how I feel, what I am going through, that you know what I need. You have pushed me away. I just lost a friend for this reason. There are other friends that seem to be afraid of grief, of my grief. All I really want is to be seen for where I am really at. The truth. The fear. The avoidance. The deep hurt that I am truly alone. The feeling of false empathy, sympathy, when a person's actions don't align with their words. I turn my back because I barely know how to sit in what is called grief. And I feel as though what's happened is that all many many of my relationships were forced to changed. Because my perspective on the world is permanently changed. I am still a young woman. I am too young for all of this to have happened. I have not figured out how to rebound, how to rebound back from the trauma. Maybe mostly because I feel overwhelmed by it. I feel so overwhelmed by the trauma to both my parents. But what I know is that my father was a rock in my life and without him I am being forced to learn how to live.

There was something else the reverend spoke to today about being a ghost. I feel as though I don't have permission to be a ghost that my friends wanted me to be someone I wasn't. That they wanted/want me to snap out of it. And because I've been unable to I'm lost in the wilderness. I still crave the friend that would make me dinner, bring me dinner, call just ask how I am. The friend that can handle the deep sadness that exists inside my well. And all I can wonder is what would it have been like if I'd been able to say goodbye. What would it have been like to be able to tell my father just how much I loved him. And now I wonder what would be like to live his legacy? What would be like to stand upon a mountain top and breathe in the clear, crisp air? What would be like to be adventurous?

And yet when I find the silence. I see the change I see how much I have changed. How I've had to let go of people that aren't able to support me in this depth. And I see that I have a unique perspective. That I may have a gift to offer those in grief when I reach the other side. Because truth be told I need to cry, I need to scream, I need to be held deeply in my grief.

And Dad I truly hope you are singing in the angel's choir, I hope you are telling jokes, watching us all the while. Know that I am trying to move through but the ache of missing you pulls on me. I regret not calling you, if I had known I would have called. If I had known I would have gone skiing with you. I know this sounds unrealistic. But if I had known there is so much I would have shared with you. In death I know see that there is a chance still to have you in my life.

Birthdays

As I age the celebration of the actual birthday seems to loose importance. Now that my father is not here to celebrate and my mother almost joined him it just doesn't seem to hold the energy of celebration. Perhaps it's age, perhaps it's grief, perhaps it's the feeling of loneliness that has been grabbing me lately. But I don't feel much like celebrating and it's not just my birthday it's most holidays. They come with a feeling of resentment, bitterness. I look out and see families smiling and laughing. And inside I'm torn up wishing I could celebrate with my father one last time. I remember, but in many ways the memories feel like they are fading into the abyss. Like with it I am fading. People seem to so engaged in their own lives I'm merely a back drop. And yet I know that some how there is fun to be had in this world, it's not all work. And yet I feel so disconnected. I feel as though people call me friend, but fail to treat me as such. Is it so hard to invite me to something, extend a hand, or a phone call? And that is where I sit at the end of each day the shame that I am actually alone. Most days it's okay. I realize the universe is calling me to move on, meet new people, create my own community, my own family. To stop leaning on people who do not have the capacity to see me, be with me in the way I crave. And it spirals back to my birthday. It comes down to that I am not like others, it is not a celebration for me since my father died. I have shame on this fact when I look around at all the people celebrating in a various ways. And I've come to this conclusion that indeed I want to wake up early and go to the beach. Turn my phone off for the majority of the day. Remove myself from facebook and sit and listen to the messages in the internal silence. Listen to the messages of a another year older. Allow it to be absolutely okay to in fact not celebrate, perhaps I'll never want to celebrate. Perhaps next year I'll allow it to pass me by. But in the end that is my choice.

I had an experience with a friend last year who got mad at me for not returning her text on Thanksgiving. You know what I'm turning inside and seeing that true friends honor that need. What I'm beginning to realize unfortunately many people in my life don't know how to respond to death. How to be with death and how to support someone who has experienced death and is having a part of their self die. And people have stepped away for various reason but what I have learned is that I must listen to the wisdom inside. If I want to turn off my phone, my email, facebook, and choose to not respond that is okay. This is the year I want to do everything differently.

I want to use these days as places to accept more of myself, to listen to the darkness, and to honor the grief that is still very present for me. And to not try to lean on others instead lean on myself. If I want to turn my phone off I can. If I don't want to celebrate the holiday, I don't have to. And most of all if I don't want to be with family, I truly don't need to be. It's time that I honor these days for me and no one else.

Admission

I write this for me. I am depressed, I know it, and yet I can't quite extract myself. Today was a day of exhaustion and rest. And knowingly I am eating emotionally I can feel it. I bought pasta and chocolate. I know my hormones are off. I am moody. There is so much rage inside me it's hard to describe. But I'm owning that I am engaging in escape tonight good pasta with a movie. Maybe in writing my psyche will hear the call to step up into a more empowered place, a place where I don't need a movie and pasta to feel better. That I can feasibly shift my energy. But I'm lonely. I feel as though I can count on no one. It's hard to explain. But I have those I call sisters but I don't feel a mutual connection anymore. It feels as though it's fading into a new realm. A realm I don't understand. So I react in fear and I shut down. I shut the door, my container weeps. And sit wondering why I cannot find people that truly want and desire to connect with me. Not just saying hi on the phone but following through with hanging out with me. I deeply desire it and yet I can feel how far from the truth it is. And the truth is I am still locked inside a box I can't quite step out of. I need to have fun, and let go of what controls my actions. And it's time to let go of the anger, and resentment towards the people that don't have the capacity to show up in the way I wish. And I just wish so badly to be loved in a deep intimate way. But I'm beginning to realize that in order to really receive that love I need to embrace loving myself. And this is why I eat. I hate and loath myself in so many ways. I am scared to change to truly do the work that involves changing my core beliefs. But I must if I truly want the life of my dreams I must step away from the self loathing, the illusions, and embrace all that I can change. It is time to step into my life, to step into finding friendships that feed my soul, and to allow myself to be seen not necessarily by others but most importantly by myself. If I can see myself for the truth and rawness inside of me I know I can heal. I know I can find my way through the forest. And the message over and over again is that this is the soul's journey and I must embark on it alone. And  yet as I hear those words I also know that there is a piece of human connection that must be met in order to step out of this escape of food and electronics. This need is something that must be met. It's time to make some friends.

Mystery of Life

Sometimes I wonder how we all deal with Life. I sit with so many questions. Why can’t I sit with myself and still feel joy? Why do I need people so badly in my life? Why do I attract drama I have no control over into my family life? Why do I constantly feel unseen or unheard? The questions go on. They create this feeling of aloneness, of fear, of anger… I loose focus on my goals, I loose focus on my Life. It’s as if the whole world becomes a narrow pin prick. I am alone and there is not a soul that could understand my particular angst. And yet WHY am I so angry, why am I so restless? I desperately want answers to these questions. I want to be happy. But the message from today’s sermon is very clear. I must live the questions and stop trying to find the answers. Because I am not ready to live the answers so I must live the questions. But what does this really mean asks my mind?? And all I can answer in response is that sometimes there are no answers. I think to what is causing my heart pain and it is the reality of what I spoke in Church this morning. The realization on one level I am alone and on another that if I take a risk the load becomes lighter. It only takes a moment to reach out a caring touch, a caring thought, a caring hug. That is all I really need. I don’t need to share with you the details of my struggles. That has been my mistake in the past. My addiction to drama creates such a turbulent experience when I do. I share the details and I become less and less present to the NOW. To the experience in this moment. So my mother almost died does everyone need to know my desperation about that fact. No. But here I tell you I’m dying inside at this fact and I don’t know how to move beyond it. I don’t know how to live with this fact. It seems so silly to me. But I am scared and that is why I’m struggling moving on. I am scared I am going to experience MORE loss. And all I can think about is how much bad has entered my life instead of how much good has entered it. I remember the words I uttered in Church this am “I am so grateful that I have more time with my mother.” And I am. I am so fucking grateful that I get to have more time with my mother. That I get to enjoy her presence in a way I did not get to experience with my father. And I can feel all the vulnerability inside this. I left church with a deep opening in my heart, a deep sense that there is something, a gift inside this community that I have yet to receive. And more than anything that’s what I want. That’s what we all need a reminder of love. A reminder that we are not alone. Because when you’re world feels blown apart and you have told everyone a million times over and over again. It’s old, you know my father died, I know my father is dead. And yet I’m hung on it. But the one reach out of the hand today reminded me I am not alone. And yet I can sense the way to empowerment is learning how to engage in life in other ways beyond my sorrow. To engage from my joys, my love, and my ability to listen to myself. That is what I am hear to learn. Teach me to listen, to be listened to, to hear the deepest whispering from the inner stirrings of this universe. Let me be held. Let me see all the beauty in the whole world. For I understand that life is a mystery and I am learning how to accept what is but it isn’t easy. Everyday I struggle with myself to let spirit in, everyday I wonder what my father is doing, everyday I send my mother prayers, everyday I miss the certainity of a life that is no longer mine, everyday I am reminded of the mystery of life. And I am learning to live with the questions, to breathe through the questions, and have respect for the questions that have no answers.

Why did you take my father away from me? Why did I get sick? Why was I abused? Why is my mother sick? None of these have answers. They will never have answers. I sit wondering how we sit with the questions, which in essence means sitting with myself, learning to feel the inner layers of my heart. To begin to tease out the sticky anger layers that bind me to my fear. In relationship to others I have let go in great amounts. But I still greatly crave for people to WANT to be with me. And I don’t feel that way, I am learning how to step out of the small child that wants attention to the adult that can create her own way. It’s time, it’s time to let go of approval, of validation and step into being my own salvation. Kiya Heartwood, a beautiful song writer, sings “I will be my own salvation, I will be my only priest.” I leave you with this. How can you be your own priest? How can you step so fully into your own heart that you do not need other people’s approval? It does not mean you do not need people, for we all do, but it translates to a health need. A healthy and empowered way of being.

Mountains

It’s a weird feeling to be home… There a void in my heart. A fear I can’t quite identify. I miss my mother in a way I have never before. It’s interesting I was gone from MY life for over five weeks and I think I preferred the mountains to the ocean. There was something spiritual every time I looked into the large Rocky Mountains. There something I avoided in those mountains. There was a distraction from my own self. And now I am home I have to face the bells that are ringing. Only 10 days away from sitting for a large certification exam and I feel as though it’s all out of my control. I’m allowing myself to be pulled in so many directions. What would it mean to sit? To really sit with myself and look deep within my own soul? What would I see? What would you see?

I can tell you, you would see pain. Pain of all levels and a determination that meets no other. I am survivor at the core but you know I am tired of surviving trauma. I am only 30 and have already been diagnosed with a learning disability, sexually abused, emotional abused, seen tragic death of an intimate family member, seen serious illness in myself and others. I have yet to really learn how to move on after this. My mother almost died and I can’t get beyond the words. The images flood just like when my father died. I sit wondering how how can this happen? The feeling of aloneness overwhelms me. Because there are no words to describe the moment I walked into her hospital room after a 4 or 5 hour flight. Flying over oceans and mountains to arrive ungrounded, scared, and basically alone. Unsure at how I should react because I haven’t been here before. I’ve done death, but I’d never done illness and death. And I truly could not get that out of my head. And thus trying my best to cope with the worst week of my life. I arrived, I was finally by her side and yet looking at her my psyche immediately rejected the fact that this was my mother. This woman in this hospital couldn’t possibly be my mother. Where was her vibrant smile, where was her sarcastic grin, where was the love in her eyes, it was as if all life had left her. She was paranoid and I didn’t know how to react and so all I could do was laugh, cry, and hide behind anything. The phone calls were rampant from family members and close friends. And most of all I was scared that she didn’t even know I was there. I’d flown over three states to see her, I’d given up my job to see her, and I didn’t even know if she knew who I was. It became apparent the following day she did remember when she uttered one word: my nickname. That was enough for me. But the fear, the inability to express what it means to look at your critically ill mother and feel as though even her spirit was gone. The miraculous moments were those when you could see the light literally filtering through her eyes. The moments when she uttered the words you had been waiting on the edge of your seat to hear “When did you get here”. In those words she knew who you were, where she was, and that she had lost time. Relief flooded through me.

Though it appears that she will be okay and without many complications. The clamp inside of me somedays will not let up. I want to scream “NO you do not understand what I have been through”. Part of it is the rip in my inner world when my father was ripped out of my life, when he disappeared from existence. And some days I struggle recognizing that we are all interconnected because I feel as though God has decided that I have to face all these crisis. What am I suppose to be learning? How not to freak out? Well haven’t really learned that yet. That life is fragile? Well yes I get it. And I just truly wish I could reach inside to the scared little girl that doesn’t understand any of this and letting her know that it will be okay. Instead I see myself escaping and finding it impossible to trust in myself. If only my father was here life would be so much easier. Its hard to describe to someone who wasn’t intimately a part of this situation to understand how difficult it was to transition through the details when we had no other parent to lean on. And it breaks my heart that we struggled through 24 hours before realizing what the right action was. I struggle with guilt that I wasn’t there sooner.

Then there are the days where I see so clearly. I see how greatly this situation has changed my relationship with my mom. After my dad died there was such a rift and divide between us. And now I feel closer to her than I have ever before. Perhaps truly the lessons stems from love. How do we do what is right and what is just? What happens when we let go of our expectations and do what is right? What is right is to step up to the plate when family needs you. I can’t say I always feel this called within my chosen family. But I am learning where to step in and where to step back and make space for people to be themselves. For the first time I saw my mother as a woman in need. In need of my help specifically and I feel honored. I wouldn’t change it for the world.