I Am a Writer

I don't even know where to begin as I haven't been able to write for a while. We had our second funeral service ten days after the first one and this time in Pennsylvania. Thoughts are hitting me left and right and I am trying to keep up with them. I know I need them to be expressed because I am a writer. Writing is the tool to express myself authentically and how I learn lessons. I am in connection with who I am now, how I feel, how things affect me and thus more importantly, how I should proceed, and with this examen, my picture becomes clearer.

Knowing who you are and being able to own it, changes everything especially if you felt the need to hide who you were before because somewhere along the way you got the message that you weren't enough, that you didn't matter. That is a shame thing and shame is powerful. I am still watching Brene Brown's TED video on Shame and vulnerability and have new ahas each time I hear it.

I haven't grieved after GaGa's death like I would have anticipated which means I haven't had massive crying episodes. But I grieved so much before her soul departed. We knew her death was coming, for a year and a half, the writing was on the wall even though she did not acknowledge it. Now grief is more like a vague sadness.

Over the weekend, I was working to get chocolate stains out of Mallory's uniform and this was something she was very good at. She was good at household routines, and performed them one task at a time. And I felt momentary sadness. She left us months and months before her heart stopped so we had been saying goodbye for a long time. Now that the stress of caring for her is over, I have begun to think back to how she was before the cancer and I miss that person. The one who liked to shop and buy clothes for the girls, who sat down on the floor and played, who liked adventures with my girls and cooking and baking. I miss our heart to heart talks. She validated my feelings. There is a wistful sadness because although she really hasn't been here for a long time now she is really gone. Seeing a casket in the ground is powerful.

I am exhausted and worn down. Saturday night my throat hurt with a vengeance and I am taking it slow today. I am trying to give myself some nurturance. I knew I needed it all week after we got back from the trip. I could feel my exhaustion. Each day I got up and did what I had to do, and then pass out by the afternoon. Kids don't really understand that Mommy needs some down time but the biggest lesson for me is that when I do tell them this, they are learning how to take care of themselves as well. And I want to teach them how to take care of themselves as much as I possibly can.