A Walk Among the Dead

 

I walked among the dead today.  I always have found peace in an old cemetery.  The headstones bear witness to so many years of change.  Weather worn and broken, they are testimonials of those who have walked this earth and those who were loved.

When walking in this particular cemetery, I realized that many of the stones weren't any older that the last 1800's.

Sad really....

No flowers adorn them.  Not anything that tells us that these people are remembered any longer.

I touch the stones as if they would speak to me.  Wishing I could hear the voices of long ago.  

There were babies laid to rest.  There were spouses who were loved and cherished.  I didn't see anyone who was over the age of 67.

Times were hard then, harder than now. 

Looking online at the records for this cemetery told some stories of those who are buried here.

I wondered if I was the only one to visit these graves.  Are there others who come?

Often I wonder about my own mortality.  I am not afraid of death.  I had already died once.  Many have gone before me.

I am afraid of being buried.  My wishes are not to be left in a box in the ground.  Do not put a marker where I am.  Scatter my ashes to the wind and let me go.

I do not want to be left where no one will remember me.  I do not want my headstone to crumble.

Remember me as I am now.

A butterfly came to me as I was walking.  I stopped to watch it.  I felt a peaceful energy from it.  

The cemetery where I took these pictures is the Schoolcraft Cemetery in Calumet, MI.  

This was the first time that I had really walked around.

The following are just the pictures that I took.

Birthday Blog

In a few hours I was born 48 years ago.

I struggle a bit with this birthday for some reason.  I'm not turning 50 or 60.  I wasn't angry when I turned 40.  For some odd reason, I hate the fact that I will be 48.

Mom has been gone for over 4 years now.  Her telling the story of my birth resonates in my mind.  We used to get drunk on red wine and she would tell the tale of being in labor, wanting that last cigarette four times, making my dad drive all over looking at lights, the doctor being MIA and the nuns putting her to sleep.

I popped out 48 minutes after midnight.

I am almost positive that if the events didn't happen, my birthday would be today.

I think the main reason that this birthday upsets me is the fact every day when I walk into work, there is a countdown to Christmas.  This countdown also is to my birthday.  This countdown reminds me of the days to when my mom isn't here to tell the story of my birth.

Jesus may have his story told over and over.

I miss mine.

The Face of Depression

My face is the face of depression.

Tonight it is at an all time maximum.  I don't know how to ask for help.  I do not know how to control it.

It consumes me.

Just when I think I'll be ok, I have sunk even lower before.

I stood in the bathroom for some time trying so hard to compose myself.  I was fighting the urge to cut my wrists.  I caught the pill bottle out of the corner of my eye, held it in my hand for a moment.  I opened the lid and dumped the contents in my hand.  The pills felt like pebbles as I stood there crying.  For one brief moment I considered popping them in my mouth but I dropped them into the toilet and flushed.

I cried harder.

How do I ask for help?  At this hour?  Who do I call?  Where do I turn?

I feel so alone in this.

I came back to bed and decided to write.  Writing seems to help.  I hesitated because I am sure there will be someone out there reading this who will think that this is all for attention.  

If it is you, you can kiss my ass.

My face is a face of depression.  There are many more like mine out there.  

We are not alone.  There are millions of faces just like mine.

We can be good liars.  We will tell you we are ok when we are breaking inside.  We will tell you we are fine when we are certainly not.  We will smile, joke, laugh; hell, some of us are downright funny.  But we are dying inside.

We mostly suffer in silence.

We believe that we are unlovable.  We believe we are overweight, ugly and damned.  We believe that we aren't worthy of being happy.  We believe that we will be rejected by anyone we reach out to.

Why would someone love us, we are just a hideous mess?

Depression isn't something we can just "get over".  We just can't take a walk or soak up some sun.  It doesn't work that way.

It is so difficult to explain how depression feels.  It is way more complicated that just being sad.  It is more than just crying.  It is more than just feeling empty and numb.

Depression is a liar.  I know this and I am sure that others like me know it as well.  Sometimes the lies become our believable truth.

Tonight was a small victory, the pills were flushed.  There are many others out there who lost their battle.  It saddens me that we do suffer alone when there are so many of us.

My face is a face of depression.

Above photo was taken right after I flushed the pills.

Suicide Prevention Hotline

800-273-8255

Mom's Curlers

"Do you know where your mother's curlers are?"

The question took me off guard.

My step dad called and asked me where my mom's rollers were.  Mom died several years ago from lung cancer.  My sister and I went through all of her stuff at his request and tossed what we tossed and kept what we kept.

I thought it was a strange question.  So I made a smart ass comment...

"Are you planning on making a change?"

He didn't even chuckle.

His girlfriend wanted to have her hair curled.

I sat on the other end of the phone...stunned.

Why would anyone want to use a dead woman's curlers?

I must admit that I struggle daily with the loss of my mom.  But I knew that my step dad was going to move on.

The problem is that I don't think he understands my own grief.  He doesn't understand that things he randomly does or say regarding my mom really bothers me.

It was very very difficult to see another woman sit at my mom's table and even more difficult to watch her sleep in my mom's bed.

(My eyes sting when I typed that just now)

The first time I met the girlfriend, she was sitting topless at the kitchen table right where my mom had her coffee.  I wanted to vomit and run.

The thing with the curlers is that my mom always set her hair.  She used those black rollers with the bristles and the plastic pointy pins and once her hair was up, she wrapped it in a red bandanna.

I could never figure out how in the hell did she sleep with those things in her hair.

In the morning she would take out the rollers and tease her hair until it was mad and sky high in the hair.  Sometimes I wish I had a picture of that sight.

I don't think that I can ever go visit the house ever again.  It is just like my mom was erased from a sketch and you can see the blurred lines just barely.

Grief is a weird emotion.

Anger in Grief

I haven't blogged in awhile.

My laptop took a crap and I am using my son's, which isn't the easiest to use.  As I type, the cursor moves around and typos happen.

I also haven't had much to say.  Who wants to hear about my adventures in fondling tomatoes and inspecting bananas?

Anyway....

This time of year is graduation.  It is a happy time for families and students.

As I scrolled through my Facebook feed the other day I came across a photo of my aunt and uncle with their granddaughter.  I teared up suddenly.  My aunt looks so much like my mother.  The same salt and pepper hair, the same shape face.  I starred at the photo.  My cousin's daughter reminds me of my own with long brown hair and a wide smile.  I cried.

My mother died a few years ago from lung cancer.  I never really sobbed over it.  I don't think I grieved like you would imagine what grieving would be like.  It is weird and hard to explain.  I just expected to break down but I never did.

Back to the photo...

I think my tears came from anger.  I am angry at my mom for dying.  It is such a raw and real emotion.  It came from just picturing my own mother and daughter on Kate's graduation day.  This will never happen.

I used to think my mom would be around to share in my children's life events.

I think what angers me the most is that she was so selfish to not see a doctor sooner or to take better care of herself.  She admitted that she hadn't seen a doctor of 17 years prior to the cancer diagnosis.

Maybe is a normal feeling to be angry.

I also think I am thinking more of missing my mother because I have been through some rough times over the last couple of years.  There are times I wish I could just call her.  She had a way of talking you off the ledge and give you a sense that everything will be ok.

Sigh...

Nightly Ramble

Feeling a bit busy these days.  Not sure why though.  I guess my work schedule is always changing and I come home always exhausted.  This is a good thing though.  I work hard because I really want to do a good job and go places.  

I lost Oscar on February 10th.  Oscar was one of my guinea pigs.  He was a funny, curious boy that continued to make me laugh.  He was the only one who would sit at the bottom of the stairs and wheek at them for no apparent reason.

He will be missed.

I don't deal with death very well.  I understand that it is part of life.  I just can't be around dead bodies.  It doesn't matter if it is human or animal.  It is not how I want to remember them by.  I like to remember their live selves.  I am just weird like that.  I didn't see my mom.  She was cremated before the funeral.  I wasn't there when she passed away.  This is good because I just remember her alive.

I am rambling.

I tend to do that.

I also talk to myself sometimes.

My daughter always asks why I talk to the guinea pigs or the cat.  I tell her that it makes me seem less crazy.  lol

Anyway, sorry that this isn't mind blowingly awesome but it will have to do.  I am tired and I have to work in the morning.

Not a Pity Party

Holy cow!  Two blogs back to back....must be something I ate, eh?

Yesterday I wrote about my feelings about love and how unlovable I feel.  I didn't write it to have myself a little pity part nor was I looking for sympathy.  I create most of my own problems and I realize that.

I wrote it because (well I write a lot of things) because I think others read it and think that they aren't alone in their own feelings.  Sometimes it is better when you don't feel so alone.

We all have our insecurities and fears.  We also have our own little glory moments and grand occasions.

This is life.

Life has struggles and life has people who just plain suck in it.  Life is funny that way.

I often wonder if around this time of year it is just harder for me.  The anniversary of my mom's death is right around the corner.  I think that it gets harder every year,

You know, the last thing I said to her ever was "I love you".  I meant it.  I called her on the day she died while she was being transferred to a bigger hospital.

You know, the last thing she said to me ever was "I love you too."  

That is pretty significant.

As much as that woman drive me insane some times, I loved her (well, I still love her).  She is my mom.  She will always be my mom.

I gets hard when she isn't around when life is kicking my ass.  As my sister says, "Mom always made it better."

My sister is right.

Anyway, I often think about that person who sends me anonymous notes in the mail.  Why does this person do that?  I also think about whether if it is because I write about my feelings and issues and they just seem to have their opinions.

No matter what, I will continue to write.

It is almost like therapy for me.  I sometimes refer to it as "mind dumping".  I dump out what is in my head onto the screen and hit share.

Well, this seems to be enough rambling for now.  I am tired and tomorrow is yet another day.

You know that bowling ball?

I carry around a lot of hurt with me.  I tend to hide it but it's there.

It feels like a big old bowling ball on top of my chest.

I guess I've been through a lot in the last year or so.

My break-up still affects me.  I carry around that hurt and can't seem to quite let it go.  I can't put my finger on what triggers it.  I am afraid to meet men or date anyone.  It isn't because I am afraid that they will pull the same crap on me.  I think his words "I just don't love you" hang on to tight.  I can't seem to shake that "unlovable" feeling.  It is that image in the mirror that stares back at me, that unlovable person that I see. 

I need to work on that.

When we first learned that mom was sick, I understood how bad it was from the beginning.  The doctor said that there was a mass on her lung and that it didn't look good, I didn't need more tests to understand that she wasn't going to get better.  Five months later she was gone.  I haven't really cried or grieved her death.  I don't understand why I haven't done it.  I can't make myself do it either.  It doesn't work that way.

I do miss her though.  I miss not having her to talk to.  I can't believe I miss having her tell me what to do.  Big things have happened for me and she just isn't here to tell.  Telling other people isn't the same either.  I don't know if it just because I am the oldest child and she talked to me more. (I don't know what kinds of relationships she had with my brother and sister.)

I just know I miss her.

In between the break-up and my mom's passing I had something happen with my former employer.  It seemed pretty shitty to me.  I tried holding myself together during the tough times and I tried not to be a horrible employee but when a co-worker does something shitty behind your back while you are going through something shitty, everything just becomes shitty.  And then HR gets involved.....I am still a little angry about it.

I did something about it and I now work some where else.  :-)

I still don't know how to deal with the bowling ball of hurt.  I keep wondering when I will be happy again.  I wonder when that switch will flip on.

A Different Kind of Anniversary

My mom passed away two months ago today.

I don't write about it much or how I feel about it because once I do, I can't stop crying.  (like now)

It has been a hard two months without her to talk to.  I can't just call her up because I feel like it.  I can't tell her how I like my new job or that I am thinking about buying a house.  I can't tell her that I finally but my hair off.  I can't tell her that she has a new grandpiggy.

It upsets me.

Lung cancer took her.

I get angry over that too.  She could have stopped smoking.  She could have taken better care of herself.  

She won't be there for her grandkids' graduations or weddings.  

This weekend we have to go through her things.  That upsets me too.  It feels like I am picking off a scab of a deep wound.  

Ugh...

People say that she is around and can see what's going on but it isn't the same.  

She isn't suffering anymore but those of us left behind are.

Ninja Insurance Warrior

I've been in Ninja Insurance Warrior Boot Camp for most of the week.  I am training to be a Ninja Insurance Warrior.  I need to complete this in order to get my super ability to indemnify people.  

I am dead serious.

I have actually written several blog entries but haven't been able to post them.  I wrote mostly about my feelings about my mom's death.  It has been incredibly hard to write about since my emotions are all over the board and my writing reflect it.

I talked with my step dad tonight and he said that he has been yelling at my mom for leaving him. I can relate.  I have wanted to yell many times at her.  She left us too soon and she is mostly to blame for being stubborn and careless with her health.  It makes me angry that she isn't around any more and will miss out on so many things.

Yeah, I know you might be thinking that she will be around anyway but to us living people it isn't the same as having her participate without popping up in a ghostly fashion.

Back to my training.

A couple of months ago I decided to make some changes.  I needed to leave the profession I was in.  I wasn't satisfied and I wasn't too happy about co-workers causing drama.  I was stressed about mom being sick.  Something had to give, so I left my job and took one at an insurance agency.  I will be a licensed professional.

I went from working in a highly corporate (world headquarters) environment in which I had to watch what I said and did to working in a very relaxed environment with two people.  It has been pretty darn cool and my stress level is way down.  My stress cough is pretty much gone.

yay!

I knew I wasn't happy so I did something about it.

Even though change completely terrifies me, I did it.

yay again!

Courage comes from within.

You Need to Take the Leap Off the Diving Board and Pray That You Can Remember How to Swim

I have always been afraid of change.  Ok, well...not afraid but I just dislike it.

I guess I tend to stick with what I know and pretend to be happy.

Key word in the previous sentence is "pretend".

Pretending to be happy tend to get old and makes me grumpy and sad.  I can only be grumpy and sad for so long before it eats at me until I am forced to make a change.

Change and courage go hand in hand for me.

It takes courage to change.

I have had so much change in the last couple of weeks.  It is almost like change overload.  So as I sit and write this, I am in kind of a fog.

I lost my mom a week ago today.  She was diagnosed with cancer of the lungs, bones and adrenal glands back in August.  We knew the end was coming but we always expected to have more time.  I think everyone thinks that time is continuous in some sort of way.  We tend to forget that time has a limit.  It has been hard adjusting to this change.  She isn't there anymore when I go to pick up the phone.  She isn't there when I need to tell someone something grown up like.  It is just weird.

I am not fond of this type of change.

The other change is today was my last day of my old job.  I have been working for the same company for over 7 years.  This was a record for me.  I never intended to stay that long.  It just sort of happened.  My job was a big part of my life.  If you think of it, when you spend 8 hours a day for five days a week for about 48 weeks a year (includes vacations and such).  That's a lot of time in one place.  Hell, I don't think I spend that much time at home even and I pay rent for this place.  The job had its little changes.  It became challenging but not enough to kept me there.  I needed to change.

I was scared of this type of change.

But I did it.

I found a new job where I can meet new people and spread my wings a little.  I needed less stress.

Change takes courage.  We have to find the courage in ourselves to make that change.  Sometimes that little voice that whispers "you got to do something about it" can be the scariest thing.

Sometimes we just need to take that leap.