Hi y'all,
Grieve is an unexplicable phenomenon and yet I feel the dire need to explain what is happening to me, to me. Does that make any sense at all? It's a little like trying to solve a problem while going over it and doing so out loud. For me running has literally always been my go-to thing and even now when sometimes anger, overwhelming pain and total exhaustion take over my life, body, mind and all that is me...even now I run. Not far, not long and definately not fast but I'm running. I need to feel alive, a little like me every now and again to just survive all of the fucking crap I am going through.
Nobody ever told me losing a parent is so all consuming and that it makes complete and utter assholes out of everybody involved, so yes that does include myself. Ofcourse I have seen shit things happen to other families and yes even I have the brain capacity to go about it explaining how grieve does weird things to people and how grieve makes us all act in ways we never would in perfectly fine, well mannered and sophisticated times of our lives when all is well in Who-Ville. Well ...it is not. It is soooo absolutely NOT well. It is everything but well. It is a shithole and I wanna run away from it all, hide somewhere until it is all over and done with and people have returned to their normal selves or at least to their tolerable version of what they would call it.
This includes me. I am not me anymore. I have lost sight of what it means to be a normal living and breathing human in stead of the fire drake that this asshole disease has turned me into. I am angry beyond believe that I can't give my mom the help she needs so desperately and that I even get blamed for not being able to do so. I can't be a house elf, a trained caregiver, nurse or doctor when I need to come to terms with the fact that my mom's still alive but she is not my mom anymore. Not the mom I knew and loved. This disease slashes wounds beyond repair and when she is gone we have to rebuild something out of the rubble that remains and right now I am not so sure all things can be mended. Some things feel like they're broken forever.
So what do you do? In stead of walking out I decide to make it work each and every time. I take a deep breath, put on my most epic smile, straighten my back, pull up my chin and face the uglyness that will be dumped on me as it always does. And I run. This morning I decided to take an alternative route since I only had 30 minutes to spare and I wanted to see something new in my new home town. About half way in I found myself kinda not knowing where I was and it felt so good. Just standing there, not knowing which road to take and conciously deciding to not use my phone...I was lost. And it felt good. I was away from home and for about 20 minutes I felt like I could take any road and wouldn't matter. I felt alive. And so that is when I figured that feeling lost, or actually getting lost might not be so bad after all. Sometimes you need to get lost to find yourself. So maybe in all the ugly things that are happening to me and my family I should not try to hold on to myself so hard.....maybe I should let go and maybe I should lose myself a little. Maybe that is what grieve is all about....getting lost and finding yourself again. I just whish it didn't hurt so fucking much.
No matter what happens the rest of the day I can look back on a few minutes of feeling good. A few minutes suspended in time where it was just me, a road and any decision I wanted to make. Maybe, just maybe, that is enough for now.
Keep it unreal and make it happen, no limits no regrets!
Until we read again, as always
Love, Marlies
Grieve is an unexplicable phenomenon and yet I feel the dire need to explain what is happening to me, to me. Does that make any sense at all? It's a little like trying to solve a problem while going over it and doing so out loud. For me running has literally always been my go-to thing and even now when sometimes anger, overwhelming pain and total exhaustion take over my life, body, mind and all that is me...even now I run. Not far, not long and definately not fast but I'm running. I need to feel alive, a little like me every now and again to just survive all of the fucking crap I am going through.
Nobody ever told me losing a parent is so all consuming and that it makes complete and utter assholes out of everybody involved, so yes that does include myself. Ofcourse I have seen shit things happen to other families and yes even I have the brain capacity to go about it explaining how grieve does weird things to people and how grieve makes us all act in ways we never would in perfectly fine, well mannered and sophisticated times of our lives when all is well in Who-Ville. Well ...it is not. It is soooo absolutely NOT well. It is everything but well. It is a shithole and I wanna run away from it all, hide somewhere until it is all over and done with and people have returned to their normal selves or at least to their tolerable version of what they would call it.
This includes me. I am not me anymore. I have lost sight of what it means to be a normal living and breathing human in stead of the fire drake that this asshole disease has turned me into. I am angry beyond believe that I can't give my mom the help she needs so desperately and that I even get blamed for not being able to do so. I can't be a house elf, a trained caregiver, nurse or doctor when I need to come to terms with the fact that my mom's still alive but she is not my mom anymore. Not the mom I knew and loved. This disease slashes wounds beyond repair and when she is gone we have to rebuild something out of the rubble that remains and right now I am not so sure all things can be mended. Some things feel like they're broken forever.
So what do you do? In stead of walking out I decide to make it work each and every time. I take a deep breath, put on my most epic smile, straighten my back, pull up my chin and face the uglyness that will be dumped on me as it always does. And I run. This morning I decided to take an alternative route since I only had 30 minutes to spare and I wanted to see something new in my new home town. About half way in I found myself kinda not knowing where I was and it felt so good. Just standing there, not knowing which road to take and conciously deciding to not use my phone...I was lost. And it felt good. I was away from home and for about 20 minutes I felt like I could take any road and wouldn't matter. I felt alive. And so that is when I figured that feeling lost, or actually getting lost might not be so bad after all. Sometimes you need to get lost to find yourself. So maybe in all the ugly things that are happening to me and my family I should not try to hold on to myself so hard.....maybe I should let go and maybe I should lose myself a little. Maybe that is what grieve is all about....getting lost and finding yourself again. I just whish it didn't hurt so fucking much.
No matter what happens the rest of the day I can look back on a few minutes of feeling good. A few minutes suspended in time where it was just me, a road and any decision I wanted to make. Maybe, just maybe, that is enough for now.
Keep it unreal and make it happen, no limits no regrets!
Until we read again, as always
Love, Marlies
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