omylongasspost.
I've been thinking. And writing letters. I've been getting a little frustrated with things in general. My mind has been switching on and off...almost like I keep blowing fuses, I start generating so much energy.
This could very well be a long post. But its my journal. Thats what its for.
On my brain:
Moving.
My mother.
My parents.
My mental state.
Friendships.
I feel like I just have so much to process, I don't even know where to begin, and therefore...just...don't.
Moving. I have so many options, and the only one I want is dependent on other people. I have complete faith in these people...but I'm just so used to plans falling through...to getting my hopes up that things will work, and then people backing out or changing their minds. You'd think that would teach me to rely only on myself. But good goddess, if we could make this work out, life would be grand. Grand, I tell you.
My mother. She is dead. Jade, I'm stealing things you wrote because I just don't know how else to get myself across, and considering you've done it for me, I figured you wouldn't mind.
Jade said,
I wouldn't be surprised if Betty left him. It's sad though because I thought she was a potential mom. I get jealous when I see her with her 19-year-old daughter. They sit there and quietly eat food together and talk. If Sigh has a problem she complains to her mom and her mom is truly concerned and they try to fix the problem. Betty cares about Sigh so much. Like Sigh was having problems with her boyfriend and Betty kept counseling Sigh and giving her these little "life lessons" along the way. Or Sigh found a stain on her winter coat and Betty instructed her how to clean it out. Or the time I invited Sigh to come out with me and Betty lended Sigh her nicest coat (too nice for the streets of lower Manhattan). I can't help but be jealous of Sigh and Betty. When I'm there Betty treats me as a close friend but I'm jealous of the mother/daughter intimacy between them.
When I'm there I get depressed because I miss having people care about me like that. Betty cooks for me and she puts stuff away and she talks to me.....but it isn't close like how she and Sigh are. Because Betty isn't my mom!
I get depressed too. Seeing this...around me. I get depressed because I know moms. MOMS. And I see them being moms and I don't get to have that. And it makes me bitter. And stupid like. And I don't know what to do with my poor heart when its aching for that -- just ignore it?? How do you ignore something that is such a big part of you?
I don't know why I take things so personally and I carry so much pain with me. I am like a walking bruise, and I'm really ashamed for being this way. I want to be strong and independent and able to move on. Like I see so many other women who were able to move on from some sort of loss, but it seems to deepen for me over time. I feel it getting worse and worse. I still constantly think about my mother and I have vivid thoughts of her running through my head. I miss the way she walked through the house or the way she waited for me outside her job. Just the little things. The little things are what matter most. It was the way she died, the time she left and the time in her life when she died.
I think about this allll the time.
I see how there are better things in life and I have to form new experiences to move on, but it's so hard to move on from my past. My mother WAS my life. It's sickening and absurd that she should make such an impression on me.
Holy shit. Once again, I have had things pulled right from my head and plopped down on my friends page. Someone told Jade that her mom wouldn't want her acting the way she does????? This makes my heart HURT!!! I KNOW how to cover up my sadness, my aching nothing filled voidness. I know how to walk around and act like I'm fine, when really all I want is to dig up the plot at the cemetery where my mom "is," crawl into the ground, and cover myself back up with the dirt like a squishy blanket. No one seems to understand this, or even want, or try to understand this. And the sad, pathetic, horrifying thing is....THIS is who I am.
This is what I said:
Any girl who loses her mom will continue to come back to that loss...because that loss makes her who she is. That loss gives her another aspect of life that other people will never know. It isn't her CHOICE. And she should be able to come back to it and be sad and upset about it. Because she is allowed to. Grieving the loss of a girls mom is not the same as grieving the loss of a loved one. It doesn't ever stop. That sucks. But thats the way it is.
I hate that I always have to justify this.
I hate that I feel the need to justify it for other people.
People should fall on the ground sobbing and crying for me when I tell them my mother is dead. That should be the only reaction allowed. I mean, honestly. How are we supposed to function as adults, when the adult who was supposed to teach us how to be human, female, adult....is GONE?
Well. I myself walk around everyday trying to fill up this void.
And here is where the friendship stuff comes in. I tried to keep her out of that mom space. She ended up there anyway. I tried not to love her like that, with that momless intensity. I ended up doing just that. I should have scared her away. I should have avoided her. I should not have let the scared lonely momless ten year old little girl show her stupid little face. I did. And now, there is just no wall, no protection for me when I DO become overwhelming, overbearing, overloving, overneeding, too much. I adopt moms everyday. Everyday. I am lucky for the maternal figures I have in my life. But not like this. This is not normal for me. I never let myself love them. Because I end up needing what they can never give me, and don't want to feel obligated to give me, and I end up questioning whether its real, or obligation driven. I love, they go away. Because I am able to love without titles and labels, very few other people are. Very few other people understand how 90 year olds could mean the whole world to me. How someone the age my mom would be could mean the whole world to me. It scares me to let her care. My instinct is to push her away. But something won't let me do that. And I'm not sure where to go, or what to think about all of it. She worries about causing confusion...complication. But the only thing she offers me consistently is the only thing I know on this planet that is full of clarity. Unconditional. Do I let myself believe in her? Can I? Is it even possible that a person could see me for who I am, and still give a shit? She worries about complicating my life. I worry about complicating hers. She worries about draining me. I worry about draining her. She worries about overwhelming me. I am the most overwhelming person on the planet. She wishes I could see myself through her eyes. I wish she could see herself through my eyes. And still...I look at her, and I see who she is...and I wonder how and why I could possibly mean anything to her. She has a wonderful beautiful perfect family of her own. And I get to have her in my life. HELLO. Ack. I love and adore her. I look up to and respect her more than she knows. I am a better person because of her. I would consider death much more of an option if it weren't for her. But it is so much easier for me to hate myself without people loving me. I'm safe in my self loathing solitude...and not so safe when I'm forced to realize people love me. I'm not supposed to love her. Who the hell is she? But I do. I can. And I do. I couldn't help it. I can't.
My mental state. Is slipping. I've been falling in and out of this depression for weeks now. The kind where I can't fathom doing ANYTHING...especially at work. Are people noticing? What happens when I am at work, and I am hit with an anxiety attack, and can't bring myself to do anything...??? Do I up and walk out? Can I hang in there for another 2 months??? I don't know....I don't know....
My parents. I've been thinking. I find it a little disturbing that I deleted gypsygirl and they still know where to find me. Is this through tracking other people's journals? They ask me to be honest with them, to tell them how I feel - yet they can't be honest with me about "Hey, we are on your journal like white on rice, and you've deleted it. Do you have a new one?" -- no....my new journal is tracked down. That sort of disappoints me. I feel a little violated, especially since they've never done anything but criticize this journal - yet they continue to use it and benefit from it. At least as far as knowing what I'm thinking and doing...what is important to me...I don't know. I just don't know what to think about the situation. I understand that they love me. I do. But they get to see and hear my thoughts and feelings all the time, just by checking into my journal. Its easy to think you know someone when you read their words everyday - but when it needs to turn into a two way relationship...its a little harder for the party who hasn't had the benefit of living in the other party's mind....does that make sense? I don't know what I'm thinking.
Basically. To sum up the chaos in my head right now. I want to live in the painted desert. In a trailer. In a log cabin. In a tent. In my car. With a few of the greatest people walking around this planet. I took Abby to work tonight and came home and Orion was cold up in the sky, and I thought how fucking wonderful it would be to hang out with him in the desert. I miss my mom. Still. Everyday. And it saddens me to no end that people can't understand why. I've adopted a mom. Who I suddenly wouldn't trade the world for, and she knows it. And that scares me. My parents read this journal, and I refuse to censor it anyway. And I am depressed and not sure where or who to turn to about this. Especially being that my life is a little up in the air right now.
I'm getting anxious typing this. So I'll quit.
Madi wrote me a poem on her birthday. How special am I? I love her. A whole lot.
poem. [Nov. 18th, 2003|03:05 am]
for paperflowers
the moon lays down
on its back, watches the stars
and waits for a sign.
I try to be half the woman
that she is tonight-
and though my fingernails are neatly trimmed
the rest of me is as filthy as this sky
bent forward
and dragging it's feet.
What a price
to pay
to glow so bright-
Alone,
dissapearing only when
the Sun gets too close
or when the rain
rolls in like hope.
Madisun Medved 11/18/2003
Credit: Ray said "the moon looks like it's laying on it's back." and it went from there.
Gratitude: "A single grateful thought raised to heaven is the most perfect prayer." ~Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
This could very well be a long post. But its my journal. Thats what its for.
On my brain:
Moving.
My mother.
My parents.
My mental state.
Friendships.
I feel like I just have so much to process, I don't even know where to begin, and therefore...just...don't.
Moving. I have so many options, and the only one I want is dependent on other people. I have complete faith in these people...but I'm just so used to plans falling through...to getting my hopes up that things will work, and then people backing out or changing their minds. You'd think that would teach me to rely only on myself. But good goddess, if we could make this work out, life would be grand. Grand, I tell you.
My mother. She is dead. Jade, I'm stealing things you wrote because I just don't know how else to get myself across, and considering you've done it for me, I figured you wouldn't mind.
Jade said,
I wouldn't be surprised if Betty left him. It's sad though because I thought she was a potential mom. I get jealous when I see her with her 19-year-old daughter. They sit there and quietly eat food together and talk. If Sigh has a problem she complains to her mom and her mom is truly concerned and they try to fix the problem. Betty cares about Sigh so much. Like Sigh was having problems with her boyfriend and Betty kept counseling Sigh and giving her these little "life lessons" along the way. Or Sigh found a stain on her winter coat and Betty instructed her how to clean it out. Or the time I invited Sigh to come out with me and Betty lended Sigh her nicest coat (too nice for the streets of lower Manhattan). I can't help but be jealous of Sigh and Betty. When I'm there Betty treats me as a close friend but I'm jealous of the mother/daughter intimacy between them.
When I'm there I get depressed because I miss having people care about me like that. Betty cooks for me and she puts stuff away and she talks to me.....but it isn't close like how she and Sigh are. Because Betty isn't my mom!
I get depressed too. Seeing this...around me. I get depressed because I know moms. MOMS. And I see them being moms and I don't get to have that. And it makes me bitter. And stupid like. And I don't know what to do with my poor heart when its aching for that -- just ignore it?? How do you ignore something that is such a big part of you?
I don't know why I take things so personally and I carry so much pain with me. I am like a walking bruise, and I'm really ashamed for being this way. I want to be strong and independent and able to move on. Like I see so many other women who were able to move on from some sort of loss, but it seems to deepen for me over time. I feel it getting worse and worse. I still constantly think about my mother and I have vivid thoughts of her running through my head. I miss the way she walked through the house or the way she waited for me outside her job. Just the little things. The little things are what matter most. It was the way she died, the time she left and the time in her life when she died.
I think about this allll the time.
I see how there are better things in life and I have to form new experiences to move on, but it's so hard to move on from my past. My mother WAS my life. It's sickening and absurd that she should make such an impression on me.
Holy shit. Once again, I have had things pulled right from my head and plopped down on my friends page. Someone told Jade that her mom wouldn't want her acting the way she does????? This makes my heart HURT!!! I KNOW how to cover up my sadness, my aching nothing filled voidness. I know how to walk around and act like I'm fine, when really all I want is to dig up the plot at the cemetery where my mom "is," crawl into the ground, and cover myself back up with the dirt like a squishy blanket. No one seems to understand this, or even want, or try to understand this. And the sad, pathetic, horrifying thing is....THIS is who I am.
This is what I said:
Any girl who loses her mom will continue to come back to that loss...because that loss makes her who she is. That loss gives her another aspect of life that other people will never know. It isn't her CHOICE. And she should be able to come back to it and be sad and upset about it. Because she is allowed to. Grieving the loss of a girls mom is not the same as grieving the loss of a loved one. It doesn't ever stop. That sucks. But thats the way it is.
I hate that I always have to justify this.
I hate that I feel the need to justify it for other people.
People should fall on the ground sobbing and crying for me when I tell them my mother is dead. That should be the only reaction allowed. I mean, honestly. How are we supposed to function as adults, when the adult who was supposed to teach us how to be human, female, adult....is GONE?
Well. I myself walk around everyday trying to fill up this void.
And here is where the friendship stuff comes in. I tried to keep her out of that mom space. She ended up there anyway. I tried not to love her like that, with that momless intensity. I ended up doing just that. I should have scared her away. I should have avoided her. I should not have let the scared lonely momless ten year old little girl show her stupid little face. I did. And now, there is just no wall, no protection for me when I DO become overwhelming, overbearing, overloving, overneeding, too much. I adopt moms everyday. Everyday. I am lucky for the maternal figures I have in my life. But not like this. This is not normal for me. I never let myself love them. Because I end up needing what they can never give me, and don't want to feel obligated to give me, and I end up questioning whether its real, or obligation driven. I love, they go away. Because I am able to love without titles and labels, very few other people are. Very few other people understand how 90 year olds could mean the whole world to me. How someone the age my mom would be could mean the whole world to me. It scares me to let her care. My instinct is to push her away. But something won't let me do that. And I'm not sure where to go, or what to think about all of it. She worries about causing confusion...complication. But the only thing she offers me consistently is the only thing I know on this planet that is full of clarity. Unconditional. Do I let myself believe in her? Can I? Is it even possible that a person could see me for who I am, and still give a shit? She worries about complicating my life. I worry about complicating hers. She worries about draining me. I worry about draining her. She worries about overwhelming me. I am the most overwhelming person on the planet. She wishes I could see myself through her eyes. I wish she could see herself through my eyes. And still...I look at her, and I see who she is...and I wonder how and why I could possibly mean anything to her. She has a wonderful beautiful perfect family of her own. And I get to have her in my life. HELLO. Ack. I love and adore her. I look up to and respect her more than she knows. I am a better person because of her. I would consider death much more of an option if it weren't for her. But it is so much easier for me to hate myself without people loving me. I'm safe in my self loathing solitude...and not so safe when I'm forced to realize people love me. I'm not supposed to love her. Who the hell is she? But I do. I can. And I do. I couldn't help it. I can't.
My mental state. Is slipping. I've been falling in and out of this depression for weeks now. The kind where I can't fathom doing ANYTHING...especially at work. Are people noticing? What happens when I am at work, and I am hit with an anxiety attack, and can't bring myself to do anything...??? Do I up and walk out? Can I hang in there for another 2 months??? I don't know....I don't know....
My parents. I've been thinking. I find it a little disturbing that I deleted gypsygirl and they still know where to find me. Is this through tracking other people's journals? They ask me to be honest with them, to tell them how I feel - yet they can't be honest with me about "Hey, we are on your journal like white on rice, and you've deleted it. Do you have a new one?" -- no....my new journal is tracked down. That sort of disappoints me. I feel a little violated, especially since they've never done anything but criticize this journal - yet they continue to use it and benefit from it. At least as far as knowing what I'm thinking and doing...what is important to me...I don't know. I just don't know what to think about the situation. I understand that they love me. I do. But they get to see and hear my thoughts and feelings all the time, just by checking into my journal. Its easy to think you know someone when you read their words everyday - but when it needs to turn into a two way relationship...its a little harder for the party who hasn't had the benefit of living in the other party's mind....does that make sense? I don't know what I'm thinking.
Basically. To sum up the chaos in my head right now. I want to live in the painted desert. In a trailer. In a log cabin. In a tent. In my car. With a few of the greatest people walking around this planet. I took Abby to work tonight and came home and Orion was cold up in the sky, and I thought how fucking wonderful it would be to hang out with him in the desert. I miss my mom. Still. Everyday. And it saddens me to no end that people can't understand why. I've adopted a mom. Who I suddenly wouldn't trade the world for, and she knows it. And that scares me. My parents read this journal, and I refuse to censor it anyway. And I am depressed and not sure where or who to turn to about this. Especially being that my life is a little up in the air right now.
I'm getting anxious typing this. So I'll quit.
Madi wrote me a poem on her birthday. How special am I? I love her. A whole lot.
poem. [Nov. 18th, 2003|03:05 am]
for paperflowers
the moon lays down
on its back, watches the stars
and waits for a sign.
I try to be half the woman
that she is tonight-
and though my fingernails are neatly trimmed
the rest of me is as filthy as this sky
bent forward
and dragging it's feet.
What a price
to pay
to glow so bright-
Alone,
dissapearing only when
the Sun gets too close
or when the rain
rolls in like hope.
Madisun Medved 11/18/2003
Credit: Ray said "the moon looks like it's laying on it's back." and it went from there.
Gratitude: "A single grateful thought raised to heaven is the most perfect prayer." ~Gotthold Ephraim Lessing