(no subject)
In our sleep, pain which cannot forget
falls drop by drop upon the heart
until, in our own despair, against our will,
comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.
-Robert Kennedy, misquote of Aeschylus' "Agamemnon" announcing to a crowd the assassination of Martin Luther King.
It's a year today that my mom died. I can't--I don't like saying 'passed away,' that doesn't.
Whatever, terminology doesn't matter. She's been gone for a year.
Today wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be. This is something I go back and forth on, quite frequently. Sometimes it feels like she's still here, like I'll hop a Southwest bus at Coffman and Dad will pick me up and there will be a home to go to and I'll go to Mom's room and she'll be there. And sometimes, sometimes it feels like she was never here, which scares me. It's not that I'm forgetting her, it's that. It's that some days I can think about her without feeling like I have a gaping hole in my life where she used to be. More like a pinprick all the air is slowly escaping through.
My mom's death has been teaching me how to be an adult. My dad moved back because of it, I moved into my own place because of it. I'm learning how to be an adult, paying rent and bills and managing to feed myself in a manner that does not give me scurvy. Still having issues with the self-motivation (case in point, the paper I'm supposed to be writing tonight because I work late tomorrow and suck at accomplishing things after work, also I forgot to email my stupid discussion question to my TA and I don't actually care). But, I mean, still. If it wasn't for this, I would comfortably be living in a dorm and going back to their house every single weekend I wasn't working. This was the first summer I had a job, this is the longest I've ever had a job. It's kind of awesome that I'm sticking this shitty job out, I like having something I'm competent at.
Seriously. If I hadn't been forced to go out on my own like this, I would happily be sharing my parents' metaphorical basement with my brother for a good long time.
I guess today I feel like my mom taught me and is teaching me the lessons I need to learn, and I'd rather have her--I miss hugs, I don't hug people like I hugged my mom; I miss the way she would wiggle her cheek when I was resting my head against her because it made me laugh; I miss being able to tell her things that are happening and no one gives advice like she gave advice; I wish I could tell her about all the big exciting things that are going to happen in my life, but she already knew. But as far as mixed nuts go, this isn't as bad as it could be.
So there's this phrase. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Sometimes you can't make lemonade, but you can learn to live with citrus. And the universe tends to unfold as it should. And sometimes, you just have to take a deep breath and move on. And despair brings wisdom and sometimes, that can be a decent consolation prize. Today I feel like I'll be okay and, sometimes, that's good enough.
falls drop by drop upon the heart
until, in our own despair, against our will,
comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.
-Robert Kennedy, misquote of Aeschylus' "Agamemnon" announcing to a crowd the assassination of Martin Luther King.
It's a year today that my mom died. I can't--I don't like saying 'passed away,' that doesn't.
Whatever, terminology doesn't matter. She's been gone for a year.
Today wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be. This is something I go back and forth on, quite frequently. Sometimes it feels like she's still here, like I'll hop a Southwest bus at Coffman and Dad will pick me up and there will be a home to go to and I'll go to Mom's room and she'll be there. And sometimes, sometimes it feels like she was never here, which scares me. It's not that I'm forgetting her, it's that. It's that some days I can think about her without feeling like I have a gaping hole in my life where she used to be. More like a pinprick all the air is slowly escaping through.
My mom's death has been teaching me how to be an adult. My dad moved back because of it, I moved into my own place because of it. I'm learning how to be an adult, paying rent and bills and managing to feed myself in a manner that does not give me scurvy. Still having issues with the self-motivation (case in point, the paper I'm supposed to be writing tonight because I work late tomorrow and suck at accomplishing things after work, also I forgot to email my stupid discussion question to my TA and I don't actually care). But, I mean, still. If it wasn't for this, I would comfortably be living in a dorm and going back to their house every single weekend I wasn't working. This was the first summer I had a job, this is the longest I've ever had a job. It's kind of awesome that I'm sticking this shitty job out, I like having something I'm competent at.
Seriously. If I hadn't been forced to go out on my own like this, I would happily be sharing my parents' metaphorical basement with my brother for a good long time.
I guess today I feel like my mom taught me and is teaching me the lessons I need to learn, and I'd rather have her--I miss hugs, I don't hug people like I hugged my mom; I miss the way she would wiggle her cheek when I was resting my head against her because it made me laugh; I miss being able to tell her things that are happening and no one gives advice like she gave advice; I wish I could tell her about all the big exciting things that are going to happen in my life, but she already knew. But as far as mixed nuts go, this isn't as bad as it could be.
So there's this phrase. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Sometimes you can't make lemonade, but you can learn to live with citrus. And the universe tends to unfold as it should. And sometimes, you just have to take a deep breath and move on. And despair brings wisdom and sometimes, that can be a decent consolation prize. Today I feel like I'll be okay and, sometimes, that's good enough.