Right now I’m trying to understand how to prioritize time. What was measured in decades is now a matter of months, maybe a handful of years if something changes along the way. My best way of handling all of that has been to start writing this blog. I’ve always kept a journal, but that was for me alone. No reason for people to know about some girl I had a thing for when I was 21! Exploring how I’m handling things, leaving a record of what I think I did correctly and acknowledging the things I know I screwed up, that’s what has saved me at times.
By writing there might come a time when those I left behind in Maryland might understand that I didn’t know any better way of dealing with the level of pain I was feeling. That I feel so guilty for having left them that I don’t know how to even reach out to them anymore. Silence isn’t golden, it’s a bridge that is in such disrepair that you are afraid to walk across it for fear of ending up at the bottom of the ravine.
After my daughter died I lived in such panic that it took away from the life I might have been living. Cancer and abandonment within the same week, well let’s say that you lose all perspective on life. At times you don’t care if you even live to see the next day. Yet I keep oddly trying to reach out to people who read this so that I have some imagined conversation that helps me get out of bed each morning.
There’s still that wall that means I rely on a 64 year old women to help me, her granddaughter as well! I ran to my safe place when I didn’t feel safe anymore. Those feelings of wanting to hurt myself still happen from time to time, but I’ve been down that path with Kathy years ago and don’t want her to relive that pain.
For years I thought the best thing I ever did was knock on my ex’s door and give her those flowers years ago. It changed everything, gave me a support that meant the world to me. My mother told me the best thing I ever did was assure that the people who worked for us had a chance to further their educations. Even at a time when the company was losing money, we still paid those tuition bills. I wanted to give them a future. My nephew told me the best thing I ever did was take him for walks in the woods (he’s in first grade, his scale is simpler!). And lastly my “niece” told me that the best thing I ever did was tell her how I was feeling, even when it wasn’t the smartest thing to do to a teenager.
What I’m getting at is that I keep fighting my own brain. Here I am a year later, and I still feel trapped in the mud. I’m scared far more often than I want to be. I rely on my intellect and education to shield me from being honest about that at times. And I fear getting angry because it means that those same two tools could be used to do some real damage.
Those who have had people in their lives fight a roller coaster disease, you have my complete affection. It isn’t easy dealing with someone like me and I imagine that some of my thoughts and ideas are not unique.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Brainwave.”