Today I feel depressed. I don’t understand why this happened. If the point of this was to teach me some hard lessons about life, I’m getting it. Mom thought I didn’t talk enough, that I didn’t open up enough. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to do that, but I just didn’t know how. I’m realizing now that I could’ve just said, “I love you so much, Mom. I’m so glad that you’re my mom. I think you did a great job.” I feel sure that I have said this at some point, probably many times, but not recently, and not enough. Why do I have to learn this lesson in this way?
My hairdresser lost her mom earlier this year, and several of her co-workers have experienced loss recently as well. They’re inviting a medium to come to her house in November, and she’s invited me. I’ll go, but I’m skeptical. This medium will have to give me something mind-blowing for me to believe her. It’s hard not to think it’s a scam, because I right now I feel like good things don’t happen to me, although I know that’s not true. Most of my life has been good. I took for granted that my mom would be around for a long time, and that I’d have time to have that conversation with her. What I realize now is that you should never wait until your loved one is on their deathbed to tell them how much you appreciate them.
My hairdresser feels her mother’s presence. She smells her mom’s perfume and feels her touch her shoulder at night. I would give anything to feel my mother’s presence again. I think maybe this is another of those things where I have to open my mind to it, and I believe I’m keeping an open mind.
Ironically, the thing that makes this so painful is that my mom is the one I’d go to in this situation. She’s the one who’d comfort me.
I want a sign. I want a lot of signs. I want to know that this life is worth it. I want to believe that this means something, and I want to wake up every day looking forward to my day, and making a difference in the lives of other people. The problem is, I’m completely incapable of doing that right now, and I feel like I will never get to that place again. It took me about 35 or so years to get to that place to begin with, and now I’m right back to where I started, only this is different. I don’t want to drink or numb the pain with drugs, and I don’t want to sleep all day. I want very much to live life fully, but at the same time, I feel like I’ve lived long enough, and wouldn’t mind if I died—except that my boyfriend and my sisters would be devastated, and I would not want them to experience that pain, nor do I want to commit suicide. I don’t really know what I want to do.
Last night I dreamt I was reading a piece of paper that had this typed on it: This is me. This is me. I am the star above you. I like to think it was a message from Mom, my new guardian angel. Or maybe it was a message from God, Jesus, or another angel. It could’ve just been my subconscious, or nonsensical gibberish from my brain.
I’ve come to the conclusion that gibberish is the reason why I had the nightmare I had right after Mom died. It’s like when a disturbing thought enters your mind and you don’t know where it came from or why, and you know it’s not something you’d ever follow through on, but it pops into your head at odd moments. That’s what some dreams are, in my opinion.
When I awoke, I had this song in my head:
I like the lyrics “I’ll always feel you in my blood.” It’s so appropriate to my situation.
I’m grateful to have two wonderful sisters who I can talk to during this time, and for my boyfriend and true love, who I call Steven for anonymity purposes. My co-workers are also amazing people who I’m thankful for. My best friend’s support has meant the world to me, especially during those first few nights. She went to the hospital at midnight after work—she’d just found out about Mom around 10pm that night—and she showed up for my family that night when Mom was there on life support. My sisters and I have been texting every day since it happened, and of course we’ve talked too. Steven has been a rock, and I don’t know what I’d do without him. My co-workers allow me to talk about Mom, and they offer their support. While a lot of people around me are completely insensitive to what I’m going through because they’ve never experienced it, and are still so young it seems distant and unlikely to them, I have plenty of others in my life to lean on. A few of my classmates have reached out, and even casual acquaintances have reached out to me. While it may feel like it sometimes, I am not completely alone in this world.