A brave new world

"If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever."

Waking up each morning can be a struggle for most people but when depression is a bedmate, even getting one foot on the floor can be a battle. After a year of dealing with the ups, downs and setbacks of the grieving process, I'm quite amazed that I'm out of bed more than in bed these days. Nothing helps you escape pain like a deep sleep. In sleep you can relax, you can forget, you can pretend. Sleep is easy. Life is much harder. But sleeping the pain away is neither practical nor healthy. Believe me, I tried, and it did not erase what I was hiding from. It only delayed it. When I awoke, it was always there, ready to remind me that she's still gone and I'm still broken.

Okay, so if you can't sleep away the pain, what's next? Therapy, medication, exercise, lots and lots of comfort food, anger? What? There are a million books telling you how to "fix" yourself but I haven't found one yet that did any more for my pain than give me clinical instruction for the way I should feel, describe the healthy way to cope, tell me that it will be okay, it just takes time. That's not what I'm looking for. I want someone to say, "You know what? Your mom died and that really sucks. The pain you feel now, get used to it. Its not going to stop hurting today, tomorrow or even next year. You're going to feel a version of what you feel now, forever. Life as you know it is over, sweetie. Time to put on your big girl panties and deal. This is your life now." Kind of harsh, I know. But trying to sugarcoat what this is pisses me off more than the pain. Its not okay. I'm not okay. Its not right that she's gone. Its just not fair. Why was she taken when there are terrible people who have done horrible things to others, and they live long, healthy lives? The rules of this game suck. I don't want to play anymore. Okay, that wasn't a "I don't want to live anymore" statement. I'm just frustrated because I can't put my puzzle back together. I loved that puzzle. That puzzle was beautiful. And now its a mess. A big, stinking, frustrating, wanna-go-hide-in-a-hole-and-cry mess.

So, anger it is. Not really. I'm not an angry person now. Just a little bitter (okay, a lot bitter) because she was taken from me and I wasn't done loving her, that's all. I know I don't have a choice in the way this plays out. My tears of pain and moments of complete devastation don't really effect anyone or change the daily events of life. Unbelievably life goes on. When she first died I couldn't understand why everyone on the outside continued with their lives, as if nothing had happened. How can that be? In my mind, in my world, time stopped, but the world went on without me.

So, here I am, a year later. Hanging on the best I can. Still working through how in the hell I'm supposed to do this without her. Wondering if today will be the day that crying for my mom won't start on a moment's notice, with no end in sight. Wondering if today, thinking about her will stop long enough for me to finish a task without forgetting what I'm doing. Wishing that I could put on the brave face that I know most people expect after a year. Hoping that I don't dream about her again, begging her to stay.

Oh well, maybe tomorrow.