Despite feeling like shit because of a cold, i spent most of the weekend with my two tias. Tia Emilia was staying at tia Beatriz's since Tuesday, i think, and i basically saw them every day since Wednesday. Oh except for Friday, when they went on a day trip to Atlantic City and i saw "The Expendables" after work with G & S.
On Saturday evening, tia and i went to 34th street for some home shopping and poor tia was very strong despite the pain in her feet. Her stamina is just ridiculous. By the time she was trying on sandals at Macy's it was nearly 9:30 and her feet were so swollen that it made buying shoes an impossible task.
We popped into the Manhattan mall for a bit to sit down and rest and then i took tia down to JC Penny to use the bathroom and because she'd never seen it before.
So when we went down there, we walked right through...the coat section. Winter coats. Yes, they're back. Yes, it's the middle of August but i'm already used to this.
As soon as i saw them my first thought was, "fuckers! There you are again." And i laughed. To think that a year has passed since i struggled with missing doing coat shopping with mom. It was a stark reminder of another sucky fall and winter without her. I laughed, not sure why it struck me as humorous. But at least i laughed. At Macy's, i had a lot of "i hate you" reactions to the different departments or merchandise. Lots of stuff mom would have liked.
I had lots of moments of anger, like when walking through the newly opened Lincoln Center underpass. So much stuff my mom should have been able to see, should be able to see today but she's not here.
And then i remember how fucking mad i am that she died.
So yeah, a lot of cursing going on, under my breath and in my mind.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
It's 80 degrees right now but there was such a nice, balmy breeze blowing as i walked home from the A train that it felt perfect. Nights like this remind of my mom, how she loved to walk or sit in the park on breezy, warm nights. How i turned her down so many times when she'd ask me to go with her.
I'm ready to leave this place. I don't want any more of these memories. I want to start fresh, somewhere new where everywhere i look breaks my heart.
Dr H says that if i was happy in a particular moment then that gives me reason to believe that i can be happy again.
It's very easy to get discouraged but just ackowledge that you're discouraged and move on to the next thing.
I'm ready to leave this place. I don't want any more of these memories. I want to start fresh, somewhere new where everywhere i look breaks my heart.
Dr H says that if i was happy in a particular moment then that gives me reason to believe that i can be happy again.
It's very easy to get discouraged but just ackowledge that you're discouraged and move on to the next thing.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Yesterday i had a lot more energy despite having slept only about 3 hours, on and off.
I did have moments during the day when i felt sleepy and tired but then they would go away and i'd feel alert and even slightly hyper. I was more awake than i imagined i could be.
I did have a couple of cups of caffeinated tea but mostly green tea and other naturally caffeinated stuff from that new tea brand i bought. Maybe even the slight caffeine contributed to making me less sleepy.
I stayed at work with Erika until about 8:40 or so, or maybe closer to 9. Trying to finish refunds and transfers. I got home and ate a couple of waffles with Nutella. Drank tea. Took my Zycam. I've been battling this sore throat since about Tuesday, i felt super crappy when i saw Dr. H. It hurt so much on Wednesday and on Thursday my whole body ached and i felt awful. I spent the evening at tia's and the A/C in her room made me worse. I fell asleep for about an hour and woke up coughing, with painful congestion in my chest. I got up and made tea for tia and me, added lemon and honey and that helped a whole bunch. Since then i've been doing RC and Thieves on the soles of my feet and RC on my neck and chest, plus some vitamin C but i've actually been forgetting to take it.
So, anyway, i woke up this morning at around 7:35 and proceeded to get up. I was surprised. I think i went to bed at around 11:30 or 12. No idea actually. But i really thought that with all the sleep deprivation that i've had this week i would have slept really late. Last Saturday i woke up and went back to sleep and then woke up at 2:30pm. But i had also exhausted myself the night before from walking in not the best walking shoes.
It's 10:21 now. I'm about to eat the eggs and waffle i made for breakfast. I spent about a half hour organizing my months' worth of recyclables that i've never thrown out so that was good.
I'm actually astounded at the amount of energy and motivation i feel right now. Physically i'm a bit tired. But mentally it's different. I don't want to let myself waste the day. This hasn't happened in moooooooooonths.
Good sign.
Progress not perfection. Take things one step at a time. Celebrate the mini-triumphs, the small accomplishments.
My mom would want me to be happy but not just happy, to be successful and content and to improve.
I did have moments during the day when i felt sleepy and tired but then they would go away and i'd feel alert and even slightly hyper. I was more awake than i imagined i could be.
I did have a couple of cups of caffeinated tea but mostly green tea and other naturally caffeinated stuff from that new tea brand i bought. Maybe even the slight caffeine contributed to making me less sleepy.
I stayed at work with Erika until about 8:40 or so, or maybe closer to 9. Trying to finish refunds and transfers. I got home and ate a couple of waffles with Nutella. Drank tea. Took my Zycam. I've been battling this sore throat since about Tuesday, i felt super crappy when i saw Dr. H. It hurt so much on Wednesday and on Thursday my whole body ached and i felt awful. I spent the evening at tia's and the A/C in her room made me worse. I fell asleep for about an hour and woke up coughing, with painful congestion in my chest. I got up and made tea for tia and me, added lemon and honey and that helped a whole bunch. Since then i've been doing RC and Thieves on the soles of my feet and RC on my neck and chest, plus some vitamin C but i've actually been forgetting to take it.
So, anyway, i woke up this morning at around 7:35 and proceeded to get up. I was surprised. I think i went to bed at around 11:30 or 12. No idea actually. But i really thought that with all the sleep deprivation that i've had this week i would have slept really late. Last Saturday i woke up and went back to sleep and then woke up at 2:30pm. But i had also exhausted myself the night before from walking in not the best walking shoes.
It's 10:21 now. I'm about to eat the eggs and waffle i made for breakfast. I spent about a half hour organizing my months' worth of recyclables that i've never thrown out so that was good.
I'm actually astounded at the amount of energy and motivation i feel right now. Physically i'm a bit tired. But mentally it's different. I don't want to let myself waste the day. This hasn't happened in moooooooooonths.
Good sign.
Progress not perfection. Take things one step at a time. Celebrate the mini-triumphs, the small accomplishments.
My mom would want me to be happy but not just happy, to be successful and content and to improve.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
New template design and color! Blogger offered it so i thought, why not?
Been having good dreams lately. Not exactly every night in a row, but some good dreams this week. I still dream consistently with my mother. I have to find her each morning, search my memories for the dream in which she appeared the night before.
Last night we were by a pool and i gave her some dollar bills to go buy some cookies or something. Oh, i think i gave her $6. We might have been on vacation. Maxi was there. And a girl who looked like a more grown up teenage version of Athena. But she was actually a snotty, manipulative, deceitful girl who i was hosting and i needed to be careful to not be manipulated by her. Weird and disturbing. But mom was fine in the dream. Funny part came later when i was in some kind of competition/test of will and Nigel Lythgoe from So You Think You Can Dance was shouting directions at me and i ended up telling someone that he had coached me through my task. He gave me hints about how to face my challenge. I was picking up what looked like straps of leather with two giant sticks. Kind of like a pair of giant chopsticks and giant noodles. But they were also like stilts. At Nigel's nudging, i stood on them like i would on stilts and hopped about, using my feet to push the pieces of leather or whatever pieces of dark brown stuff over to wherever i need to push them. It was like sweeping with stilts. And Nigel said to me at some point that everybody there had their own different challenge, designed for each individual. I recounted to a colleague or neighbor there that Nigel had told me mine was focus or attention or something like that but i couldn't remember because i wasn't paying attention at the time. And we laughed. But i think it was focus or determination.
I dreamt that my mom and i hung out in the city the way Georgia and i hang out sometimes. Just window shopping and eating. And i told her that i had been trying to improve my posture and i showed her and she looked and said, yeah it is improving. And that made me so happy. I even woke up happy that she had noticed.
Earlier in the week i dreamt that i was at a wake or gathering after Colombia's death, at Petri's apartment, and my mom was there and she read or said something poignant and Petri was moved and grateful. It was a moment where i didn't know if my mom would embarrass herself or be ridiculed by everyone there, but she ended up being profound and touching. It was a somber moment and situation in general, but my mom's peacefulness and wisdom were so strong and present. I remember sitting next to her on the couch as she spoke aloud and everyone listened. I can't remember what she said.
Sunday was horrible, crying until 4am. Monday i was exhausted but even-keeled (thankfully too tired to even think). Tuesday was better, even slightly chipper. Today was okay, tired again, but not horrible.
I need to get Sandy's beak trimmed. She's been biting me and making me bleed. I tried to trim it and...that was a disaster and failure. And bloody for me.
Can't sleep. When i lie down i think too much and see too many bad things. I need to turn off my mind.
I saw a reading of Jesse's play, "Clutter," today. It was really great. I enjoyed it and would love to see it performed fully on stage, with sets and costumes and lighting. I wish, would love, hope to be able to write something about my life experience with my mom. Maybe poetry, maybe a play.
Been having good dreams lately. Not exactly every night in a row, but some good dreams this week. I still dream consistently with my mother. I have to find her each morning, search my memories for the dream in which she appeared the night before.
Last night we were by a pool and i gave her some dollar bills to go buy some cookies or something. Oh, i think i gave her $6. We might have been on vacation. Maxi was there. And a girl who looked like a more grown up teenage version of Athena. But she was actually a snotty, manipulative, deceitful girl who i was hosting and i needed to be careful to not be manipulated by her. Weird and disturbing. But mom was fine in the dream. Funny part came later when i was in some kind of competition/test of will and Nigel Lythgoe from So You Think You Can Dance was shouting directions at me and i ended up telling someone that he had coached me through my task. He gave me hints about how to face my challenge. I was picking up what looked like straps of leather with two giant sticks. Kind of like a pair of giant chopsticks and giant noodles. But they were also like stilts. At Nigel's nudging, i stood on them like i would on stilts and hopped about, using my feet to push the pieces of leather or whatever pieces of dark brown stuff over to wherever i need to push them. It was like sweeping with stilts. And Nigel said to me at some point that everybody there had their own different challenge, designed for each individual. I recounted to a colleague or neighbor there that Nigel had told me mine was focus or attention or something like that but i couldn't remember because i wasn't paying attention at the time. And we laughed. But i think it was focus or determination.
I dreamt that my mom and i hung out in the city the way Georgia and i hang out sometimes. Just window shopping and eating. And i told her that i had been trying to improve my posture and i showed her and she looked and said, yeah it is improving. And that made me so happy. I even woke up happy that she had noticed.
Earlier in the week i dreamt that i was at a wake or gathering after Colombia's death, at Petri's apartment, and my mom was there and she read or said something poignant and Petri was moved and grateful. It was a moment where i didn't know if my mom would embarrass herself or be ridiculed by everyone there, but she ended up being profound and touching. It was a somber moment and situation in general, but my mom's peacefulness and wisdom were so strong and present. I remember sitting next to her on the couch as she spoke aloud and everyone listened. I can't remember what she said.
Sunday was horrible, crying until 4am. Monday i was exhausted but even-keeled (thankfully too tired to even think). Tuesday was better, even slightly chipper. Today was okay, tired again, but not horrible.
I need to get Sandy's beak trimmed. She's been biting me and making me bleed. I tried to trim it and...that was a disaster and failure. And bloody for me.
Can't sleep. When i lie down i think too much and see too many bad things. I need to turn off my mind.
I saw a reading of Jesse's play, "Clutter," today. It was really great. I enjoyed it and would love to see it performed fully on stage, with sets and costumes and lighting. I wish, would love, hope to be able to write something about my life experience with my mom. Maybe poetry, maybe a play.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Today something sparked my memory and i decided to look up Father Luigi on Google. I was really surprised to find some youtube videos of him being interviewed on Brazilian tv about some Catholic stuff. He's the director of a university, a different position than when he last visited here in 1994. It was great to hear his voice again, so familiar and comforting. Meeting and knowing him was a highlight in my life. But it really hurt me that i'm not able to show my mom the videos. I wish so much that she could be here. Who else can i share this with? Who really knows what this means to me?
He's a part of my past like she's a part of my past. Good times in the past. Never to be regained.
Every day that i leave my apartment i start anticipating the moment i can go back home. While i'm at work, i can't wait until i get back home. Sometimes i go shopping at the end because it provides a comfort that i don't find anywhere else, but my favorite place, or maybe the place i need the most, is my bedroom.
I joined a great Facebook group called "please don't jump" in response to a postsecret.com message about someone who was planning to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge this summer. I found a link on ONTD of all places, and i'm so glad that i did. There are many inspirational and loving messages posted on the wall of the group.
One of them was a link to a Facundo Cabral youtube video. I'd forgotten how much i love his words. And of course i remember that my mom loved him. We both enjoyed his songs and the wise words we'd hear him say on television. I wish i'd gotten a chance to take her to see him.
I stayed home from work yesterday because i hurt my back. I slept for about 6 hours during the day. When i woke up i remembered various dreams i'd had with my mom. They were actually good, comfortable, happy dreams (not the nightmares i had last week) and it hurt me more than usual to wake up from them. Sometimes i wake up happy that i dreamt with her. Sometimes, like yesterday, it sucks to wake up and be in this world in which she's dead.
I bought a beautiful journal when i went to the ICFF with Jes in May. It's a book of blank pages, except all the pages have photographs of walls on them. They look like NYC walls. So it's like your own personal graffitti canvas. So far i've only written a couple of things in there. But i just sat here and looked through the whole book. It's amazing how blank, bare walls with only the pattern of the bricks or paint can tell entire stories. Almost all of those walls look familiar to me. And they each trigger a movie in my head, of my mother and me in the city. Lots of images come from photographs i've seen. Also from stories i've made up in my head based on stories i was told about photographs i've seen.
I'm having trouble not living in the past. Dr. H asked me if it's possible for the present and the past to co-exist, or to reach a kind of harmony. I said the answer was no.
I think i can live in the present and there are many things every day that draw my attention and engage my brain and heart. But my soul also keeps pulling back into the past. Like i don't deserve to live in the future. Like it's my duty to stay in the past.
I have to fight to stop not caring.
I wonder when i stopped caring. Maybe high school. 8th grade? I gotta think about that.
He's a part of my past like she's a part of my past. Good times in the past. Never to be regained.
Every day that i leave my apartment i start anticipating the moment i can go back home. While i'm at work, i can't wait until i get back home. Sometimes i go shopping at the end because it provides a comfort that i don't find anywhere else, but my favorite place, or maybe the place i need the most, is my bedroom.
I joined a great Facebook group called "please don't jump" in response to a postsecret.com message about someone who was planning to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge this summer. I found a link on ONTD of all places, and i'm so glad that i did. There are many inspirational and loving messages posted on the wall of the group.
One of them was a link to a Facundo Cabral youtube video. I'd forgotten how much i love his words. And of course i remember that my mom loved him. We both enjoyed his songs and the wise words we'd hear him say on television. I wish i'd gotten a chance to take her to see him.
I stayed home from work yesterday because i hurt my back. I slept for about 6 hours during the day. When i woke up i remembered various dreams i'd had with my mom. They were actually good, comfortable, happy dreams (not the nightmares i had last week) and it hurt me more than usual to wake up from them. Sometimes i wake up happy that i dreamt with her. Sometimes, like yesterday, it sucks to wake up and be in this world in which she's dead.
I bought a beautiful journal when i went to the ICFF with Jes in May. It's a book of blank pages, except all the pages have photographs of walls on them. They look like NYC walls. So it's like your own personal graffitti canvas. So far i've only written a couple of things in there. But i just sat here and looked through the whole book. It's amazing how blank, bare walls with only the pattern of the bricks or paint can tell entire stories. Almost all of those walls look familiar to me. And they each trigger a movie in my head, of my mother and me in the city. Lots of images come from photographs i've seen. Also from stories i've made up in my head based on stories i was told about photographs i've seen.
I'm having trouble not living in the past. Dr. H asked me if it's possible for the present and the past to co-exist, or to reach a kind of harmony. I said the answer was no.
I think i can live in the present and there are many things every day that draw my attention and engage my brain and heart. But my soul also keeps pulling back into the past. Like i don't deserve to live in the future. Like it's my duty to stay in the past.
I have to fight to stop not caring.
I wonder when i stopped caring. Maybe high school. 8th grade? I gotta think about that.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Keeping track
Friday: Baaaaaaaad morning (uncontrollable crying at work) turns out okay later in the day. Enough distraction and i put that fire out. Ate A LOT. Partly for binging purposes, partly because i was hungry.
Saturday: Fine. Slightly focused but not intense. Trying to update my budget and make sure to eat and keep hydrated.
Saturday: Fine. Slightly focused but not intense. Trying to update my budget and make sure to eat and keep hydrated.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Today
It feels different than last year. Not as...a little less...a little more...
Better. I wince at that word yet it fits in some ways. A part of me knows that i felt worse last year, i know i cried a lot more and a lot more often. Day to day and hour to hour was worse. But different.
Today, this year, day to day and hour to hour i never stop thinking about my mom. It can happen anywhere and everywhere. I rotate between three thoughts: i miss my mom, i want my mom, i need my mom. These words come out of my mouth multiple times a day.
I think at times i have a teeny bit more of a desire to have my own life rather than to recreate my mother within myself as closely as humanly possible, which was my goal for about a year. I have some goals for myself. On some days, at least.
I've been dreaming with my mother every single night without fail and remembering the dreams for about 6 weeks now. Many times she's sick and i'm taking care of her or other times she's angry at me or i'm angry at her. Occasionally it's just a happy nice dream. I wake up every morning and let the dream slowly come back to me so i can pinpoint what she did and what she looked like. I stopped writing it down. I don't really forget the dreams and i don't feel like they'll ever leave my mind.
Moving forward is still very difficult. I'm riding loops and waves. Going forward and going back, being high and being low. Like Jenna said it, just keeping my head above water. And for me that's good enough. Getting up every day and going to work and eating and functioning in the world and maintaining social contact, these are the minimum requirements that i'm happy to be fulfilling.
I'm still a mess but that's a position that i know and am comfortable with. Progress not perfection. I make tiny moves forward and i'm satisfied. Maybe i'm too easy on myself.
Is it a full life? No.
It's still empty. I'm still alone. She's still gone.
Can i have wholeness or fullness or whatever the goal is supposed to be? Not in the way that i had planned and wanted. I don't have a plan i care about right now. I don't want to be sick. That's pretty much my main goal right now.
I need to make myself worthy of this life, i need to pay my dues and earn my keep.
I guess my biggest danger is being alone. Because when i'm alone i take myself faaaaaar away from the world. Isolation, Dr. H calls it.
So i need to eat, exercise, engage my mind and socialize and that way maybe, hopefully, i won't get sick.
I need to stop eating junky comfort food and stop buying shit to make myself feel better. It depletes my body and my wallet.
Malnourished and broke is not the way to go. But is my will strong enough?
Truth is there wasn't much i cared about before my mom died. And when she was gone i knew i'd never find anything to care about again. I have nowhere to go so i have to force myself to be here and do something.
And missing her at least does give me a purpose.
I really hope this is a chronicle of my recovery. I want to look back one day and say, those were my dark days and now i am better.
Better. I wince at that word yet it fits in some ways. A part of me knows that i felt worse last year, i know i cried a lot more and a lot more often. Day to day and hour to hour was worse. But different.
Today, this year, day to day and hour to hour i never stop thinking about my mom. It can happen anywhere and everywhere. I rotate between three thoughts: i miss my mom, i want my mom, i need my mom. These words come out of my mouth multiple times a day.
I think at times i have a teeny bit more of a desire to have my own life rather than to recreate my mother within myself as closely as humanly possible, which was my goal for about a year. I have some goals for myself. On some days, at least.
I've been dreaming with my mother every single night without fail and remembering the dreams for about 6 weeks now. Many times she's sick and i'm taking care of her or other times she's angry at me or i'm angry at her. Occasionally it's just a happy nice dream. I wake up every morning and let the dream slowly come back to me so i can pinpoint what she did and what she looked like. I stopped writing it down. I don't really forget the dreams and i don't feel like they'll ever leave my mind.
Moving forward is still very difficult. I'm riding loops and waves. Going forward and going back, being high and being low. Like Jenna said it, just keeping my head above water. And for me that's good enough. Getting up every day and going to work and eating and functioning in the world and maintaining social contact, these are the minimum requirements that i'm happy to be fulfilling.
I'm still a mess but that's a position that i know and am comfortable with. Progress not perfection. I make tiny moves forward and i'm satisfied. Maybe i'm too easy on myself.
Is it a full life? No.
It's still empty. I'm still alone. She's still gone.
Can i have wholeness or fullness or whatever the goal is supposed to be? Not in the way that i had planned and wanted. I don't have a plan i care about right now. I don't want to be sick. That's pretty much my main goal right now.
I need to make myself worthy of this life, i need to pay my dues and earn my keep.
I guess my biggest danger is being alone. Because when i'm alone i take myself faaaaaar away from the world. Isolation, Dr. H calls it.
So i need to eat, exercise, engage my mind and socialize and that way maybe, hopefully, i won't get sick.
I need to stop eating junky comfort food and stop buying shit to make myself feel better. It depletes my body and my wallet.
Malnourished and broke is not the way to go. But is my will strong enough?
Truth is there wasn't much i cared about before my mom died. And when she was gone i knew i'd never find anything to care about again. I have nowhere to go so i have to force myself to be here and do something.
And missing her at least does give me a purpose.
I really hope this is a chronicle of my recovery. I want to look back one day and say, those were my dark days and now i am better.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Today was a good day.
It was, and is, a surprise to me but i felt peace and happiness today. All day. Especially in the evening going shopping with Georgia.
I think it started last night when i had dinner with tia Beatriz and watched the movie, "Up," with her, which i gave to her as a Mother's Day gift.
I started repeating a new mantra of sorts, "i'm going to get better, i'm going to get better." I'm not talking to myself when i say it, i'm talking to my mother. I know she wants me to get better.
Tia Beatriz told me yesterday that she woke up feeling unwell on Mother's Day and she just couldn't focus or get her head straight. I asked why and her response was that she became sad thinking about her mother. She told me that every year on Mother's Day she gets sad thinking about her mother, and how she misses her and thinks about all the wonderful things that her mother did.
It was remarkable for me to hear this. My aunt is going to be 72 years old in July and she speaks so sincerely about how much it hurts her that her mother is no longer alive. It's been nearly 23 years since my grandmother died.
At first it was a little disheartening to hear that the pain of loss never ends, but right after the initial shock of her words, i found myself comforted that the loss of a mother could be that profound. I know i will always miss my mother tremendously, for the rest of my life. She'll never stop being the most important person in my life.
Sunday was a 0.
Monday was a negative 10.
Tuesday was a 2.
Wednesday was a 4.
Today was a 7.
It was, and is, a surprise to me but i felt peace and happiness today. All day. Especially in the evening going shopping with Georgia.
I think it started last night when i had dinner with tia Beatriz and watched the movie, "Up," with her, which i gave to her as a Mother's Day gift.
I started repeating a new mantra of sorts, "i'm going to get better, i'm going to get better." I'm not talking to myself when i say it, i'm talking to my mother. I know she wants me to get better.
Tia Beatriz told me yesterday that she woke up feeling unwell on Mother's Day and she just couldn't focus or get her head straight. I asked why and her response was that she became sad thinking about her mother. She told me that every year on Mother's Day she gets sad thinking about her mother, and how she misses her and thinks about all the wonderful things that her mother did.
It was remarkable for me to hear this. My aunt is going to be 72 years old in July and she speaks so sincerely about how much it hurts her that her mother is no longer alive. It's been nearly 23 years since my grandmother died.
At first it was a little disheartening to hear that the pain of loss never ends, but right after the initial shock of her words, i found myself comforted that the loss of a mother could be that profound. I know i will always miss my mother tremendously, for the rest of my life. She'll never stop being the most important person in my life.
Sunday was a 0.
Monday was a negative 10.
Tuesday was a 2.
Wednesday was a 4.
Today was a 7.
Monday, May 10, 2010
I wish i could dance with my mom. It would make her so happy.
Sometimes she'd grab my wrists and just start dancing wildly with me, her own kind of cumbia, i guess. And she'd make the "chka chka chka" rhythm through her teeth and i would laugh or protest, depending on the mood i was in.
I wish i could grab her arms in the kitchen right now and dance with her and laugh with her.
I danced with my bird and that had to suffice.
Sometimes i pretend that Sandy is my mother, reincarnated. Or that my mom left her here for me. They met but never got to know each other. I think my mom died about a week after Sandy arrived. Or maybe less.
I realized today that riding down West End doesn't make me cry the way it used to last year. The memories of taking my mom to NYP Cornell aren't at the front of my mind anymore. Yet driving down the West Side Highway still hurts because it looks so beautiful, with the foliage and the new bike and running paths. It hurts that i can't show them to my mom.
And the new station entrance at 96th street hurts because it would have been so convenient for my mom, also an easy place for us to meet.
But the 59th street 8th avenue line doesn't hurt the way it used to last year, the memories of rushing to see mom at Mt. Sinai.
The most recent memories, the horrors from the hospital are fading now. Not that i want to hold onto those nightmares anyway. The 1,2,3 platform at 96th street no longer terrifies me as i remember going to and fro Harlem Hospital in those horrible first days. Now i'm just sad that she's not there with me.
I'm not as haunted by the traumatic and ugly moments as i am by the fact that my mom is, 13 months later, still dead. Never to come back or see me again.
Will i be healed when every single block in New York finally stops breaking my heart and no longer flashes the words "she was here but she died."
I don't know what to do with the sadness anymore. Dr. H would always say, "just feel it." I think i forgot how to cry. It doesn't happen often, hasn't happened in about a month, at least not a good cry. I'm afraid i'm bottling it up. Or worse, i'm afraid i'll get to a point where i feel nothing.
I can barely be bothered to write in here anymore.
"I wanna go home," i said out loud as i was pouring the hot water for my tea. Standing in the kitchen, i just wanted to go home. What does that mean, i asked myself. I was already home, technically. It means being quiet and not thinking and not feeling and not doing anything. I just want to close my eyes and not be anywhere.
Another day, another dollar.
I have to force myself to go out in the sun daily. I have to sit out in the sun and try to force the life into me.
This is a low low but i know i'll bounce back up at some point. I just don't want people, like my family, to tell me to get over it or snap out of it.
Sometimes she'd grab my wrists and just start dancing wildly with me, her own kind of cumbia, i guess. And she'd make the "chka chka chka" rhythm through her teeth and i would laugh or protest, depending on the mood i was in.
I wish i could grab her arms in the kitchen right now and dance with her and laugh with her.
I danced with my bird and that had to suffice.
Sometimes i pretend that Sandy is my mother, reincarnated. Or that my mom left her here for me. They met but never got to know each other. I think my mom died about a week after Sandy arrived. Or maybe less.
I realized today that riding down West End doesn't make me cry the way it used to last year. The memories of taking my mom to NYP Cornell aren't at the front of my mind anymore. Yet driving down the West Side Highway still hurts because it looks so beautiful, with the foliage and the new bike and running paths. It hurts that i can't show them to my mom.
And the new station entrance at 96th street hurts because it would have been so convenient for my mom, also an easy place for us to meet.
But the 59th street 8th avenue line doesn't hurt the way it used to last year, the memories of rushing to see mom at Mt. Sinai.
The most recent memories, the horrors from the hospital are fading now. Not that i want to hold onto those nightmares anyway. The 1,2,3 platform at 96th street no longer terrifies me as i remember going to and fro Harlem Hospital in those horrible first days. Now i'm just sad that she's not there with me.
I'm not as haunted by the traumatic and ugly moments as i am by the fact that my mom is, 13 months later, still dead. Never to come back or see me again.
Will i be healed when every single block in New York finally stops breaking my heart and no longer flashes the words "she was here but she died."
I don't know what to do with the sadness anymore. Dr. H would always say, "just feel it." I think i forgot how to cry. It doesn't happen often, hasn't happened in about a month, at least not a good cry. I'm afraid i'm bottling it up. Or worse, i'm afraid i'll get to a point where i feel nothing.
I can barely be bothered to write in here anymore.
"I wanna go home," i said out loud as i was pouring the hot water for my tea. Standing in the kitchen, i just wanted to go home. What does that mean, i asked myself. I was already home, technically. It means being quiet and not thinking and not feeling and not doing anything. I just want to close my eyes and not be anywhere.
Another day, another dollar.
I have to force myself to go out in the sun daily. I have to sit out in the sun and try to force the life into me.
This is a low low but i know i'll bounce back up at some point. I just don't want people, like my family, to tell me to get over it or snap out of it.
Friday, April 9, 2010
still sad
I was nervous about the one year anniversary. I was nervous that i wouldn't honor my mom in the right way, that the day wouldn't bear the significance that i wanted it to. I guess i was also afraid of what an anniversary might mean. Maybe it would signify a close, an end to this experience, shutting the door on a whole new way of seeing my life. I knew that my obsession with April 1st was irrational but i couldn't convince myself that it was just a date like any other date. I mean, it wasn't irrational, it was emotional. I'm afraid of what 2 years later and 3 years later will mean. Will it get better? And if it gets better, what does that mean? Or is it like a spiral, going around and around every time. AprilMayJuneJulyAugustSeptemberOctoberNovemberDecemberJanuaryFebruaryMarchApril...
I'm afraid of forgetting. I've observed from my family members who have already been through this that they don't forget but i can't get that into my head. I'm afraid of what distance will feel like.
Today i went to the D'Agostino on Broadway and 110th, after work. I still hate that corner. I thought that as i waited for the bus. That corner has so much of my mom's presence, so many times, so much time spent within just a few blocks. Vitamin Shoppe, Rite Aid, West Side Market, D'Agostino, those four corners that mom went to so often.
I hate Broadway and 110th street. I almost always cry when i stand on the northeast corner, waiting for the bus.
Today at work was good. I was happy, talking about my trip and answering questions. I was fine. But going to lunch sucked because i missed my mom as i walked by myself to the market for food, and after work sucked as well. I realized that just as i guessed (and probably hoped) a year has not diminished my loss or the depth of my pain. I can go longer periods of time without crying or feeling utter pain, but the hole is always there. And when i take a moment to feel it, it's still gut wrenching. That punch in the stomach, it has not gone away.
Sometimes it feels worse and not better. But i don't want that anyway. People say it gets better with time. Some people have told me it feels different after a while, still sad but different. I believe that. I don't like to think of it as better. I will never feel better.
And on top of still having a moment of shock at the thought of my mother dying of cancer, i miss her in new ways all the time. So that feels worse. It's like there are more moments of missing her because it's been so long since i heard her voice.
I felt a lot of warmth and support in Bogota, but i felt so horrible coming back, knowing nobody would be waiting for me. Well, not nobody. That my mom wouldn't be home for me to call her and let her know i arrived or to welcome me home and help me with my bags.
I remember the time she met me at the airport when i came back from L.A. I was mad at her because she was late, and she told me she'd taken a long time to leave the apartment after i'd called her to let her know when i'd be there.
Being sad sucks because it hurts. I know it's normal but it feels not good. I don't want to stop thinking about or missing my mom, but i don't enjoy hurting. I've never felt such heartbreak.
Maybe you get used to it, maybe that's what people mean. I suppose i could get used to it but still miss my mom and feel sad about her.
I wish i could still call her from a store like the supermarket and ask her if she wants anything and tell her what i'm buying and tell her about my day.
I'm afraid of forgetting. I've observed from my family members who have already been through this that they don't forget but i can't get that into my head. I'm afraid of what distance will feel like.
Today i went to the D'Agostino on Broadway and 110th, after work. I still hate that corner. I thought that as i waited for the bus. That corner has so much of my mom's presence, so many times, so much time spent within just a few blocks. Vitamin Shoppe, Rite Aid, West Side Market, D'Agostino, those four corners that mom went to so often.
I hate Broadway and 110th street. I almost always cry when i stand on the northeast corner, waiting for the bus.
Today at work was good. I was happy, talking about my trip and answering questions. I was fine. But going to lunch sucked because i missed my mom as i walked by myself to the market for food, and after work sucked as well. I realized that just as i guessed (and probably hoped) a year has not diminished my loss or the depth of my pain. I can go longer periods of time without crying or feeling utter pain, but the hole is always there. And when i take a moment to feel it, it's still gut wrenching. That punch in the stomach, it has not gone away.
Sometimes it feels worse and not better. But i don't want that anyway. People say it gets better with time. Some people have told me it feels different after a while, still sad but different. I believe that. I don't like to think of it as better. I will never feel better.
And on top of still having a moment of shock at the thought of my mother dying of cancer, i miss her in new ways all the time. So that feels worse. It's like there are more moments of missing her because it's been so long since i heard her voice.
I felt a lot of warmth and support in Bogota, but i felt so horrible coming back, knowing nobody would be waiting for me. Well, not nobody. That my mom wouldn't be home for me to call her and let her know i arrived or to welcome me home and help me with my bags.
I remember the time she met me at the airport when i came back from L.A. I was mad at her because she was late, and she told me she'd taken a long time to leave the apartment after i'd called her to let her know when i'd be there.
Being sad sucks because it hurts. I know it's normal but it feels not good. I don't want to stop thinking about or missing my mom, but i don't enjoy hurting. I've never felt such heartbreak.
Maybe you get used to it, maybe that's what people mean. I suppose i could get used to it but still miss my mom and feel sad about her.
I wish i could still call her from a store like the supermarket and ask her if she wants anything and tell her what i'm buying and tell her about my day.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
new york to bogota
hey, i'm still 33 and this time i'm the one who went from new york to bogota.
I just realized that right now.
The trip was great and it felt like much more than 8 days. I was constantly surrounded by warmth and love and family and home. Bonding with people i don't know but with whom i just fit in perfectly. That was pretty remarkable.
Also remarkable was that it's possible to experience joy and mirth and really fucking intense pain at the same time. I was thrilled to visit churches on Holy Thursday/mom's anniversary and join in the tradition of faith of hundreds of people in the street. But it hurt so much that my mom was not there.
That was one of the themes for my trip: my mom was missing. Everything i did was a little less "blank" because my mom wasn't there.
And i cried at the beginning and the end of the trip, but in between i'd have these moments of realization where i felt like i got punched REALLY hard in the stomach and i'd always curse in my mind like, FUCK this really hurts. I'm constantly, continuously astounded by the amount of pain i feel and can tolerate.
My heart wrenched to see all of the new and exciting stuff in Bogota that my mom didn't get to see, but it was also somewhat comforting that i didn't have to relive too many memories painfully because there wasn't that much that i could remember from our trip there 19 years ago. In a way it's good when a place is new because it doesn't completely signify my mom. Although, like Dr. H. says, she will always be there, because she's always on my mind and in my heart.
I can't wait for fight club on Tuesday.
I cried myself to sleep last night. I feel a whole new wave of crying coming on for this month.
P.S. what the fuck is up with tearjerker movies on the airplane? 2 on the same flight? First "Everybody's Fine" which slayed me, again, followed by fucking "Hachi?" Are they kidding? I was so mad, but obviously really into the movies. yeah, crying on a plane has always been my dream.
Actually...i have had that dream.
I just realized that right now.
The trip was great and it felt like much more than 8 days. I was constantly surrounded by warmth and love and family and home. Bonding with people i don't know but with whom i just fit in perfectly. That was pretty remarkable.
Also remarkable was that it's possible to experience joy and mirth and really fucking intense pain at the same time. I was thrilled to visit churches on Holy Thursday/mom's anniversary and join in the tradition of faith of hundreds of people in the street. But it hurt so much that my mom was not there.
That was one of the themes for my trip: my mom was missing. Everything i did was a little less "blank" because my mom wasn't there.
And i cried at the beginning and the end of the trip, but in between i'd have these moments of realization where i felt like i got punched REALLY hard in the stomach and i'd always curse in my mind like, FUCK this really hurts. I'm constantly, continuously astounded by the amount of pain i feel and can tolerate.
My heart wrenched to see all of the new and exciting stuff in Bogota that my mom didn't get to see, but it was also somewhat comforting that i didn't have to relive too many memories painfully because there wasn't that much that i could remember from our trip there 19 years ago. In a way it's good when a place is new because it doesn't completely signify my mom. Although, like Dr. H. says, she will always be there, because she's always on my mind and in my heart.
I can't wait for fight club on Tuesday.
I cried myself to sleep last night. I feel a whole new wave of crying coming on for this month.
P.S. what the fuck is up with tearjerker movies on the airplane? 2 on the same flight? First "Everybody's Fine" which slayed me, again, followed by fucking "Hachi?" Are they kidding? I was so mad, but obviously really into the movies. yeah, crying on a plane has always been my dream.
Actually...i have had that dream.
Friday, March 26, 2010
It was a bad week. A tough week. March into April is rough!
I'm grateful that i was able to get through my passport appointment and got it together enough to make the passport happen.
I'm grateful that i made it to Friday, after such a hard week. I'm grateful that i felt better at work after crying the whole night and day before getting to work at 2:30pm.
I'm grateful for my ability and opportunity to look for answers.
I'm grateful for encouragement and knowing that even though it's gonna hurt like hell, my family and friends will hold me up and be there for me when i come out the other side.
I'm grateful that i was able to get through my passport appointment and got it together enough to make the passport happen.
I'm grateful that i made it to Friday, after such a hard week. I'm grateful that i felt better at work after crying the whole night and day before getting to work at 2:30pm.
I'm grateful for my ability and opportunity to look for answers.
I'm grateful for encouragement and knowing that even though it's gonna hurt like hell, my family and friends will hold me up and be there for me when i come out the other side.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Just heard on NPR that Garmin makes a GPS where you can record your own voice and then it mixes it up so that your voice gives the directions.
Is it creepy that i tried to remember how much of my mom's voice i have recorded so that i could put it into a similar program or device and have my mom talk to me?
Unfortunately the truth is i don't have very much of a recording. Oh, i do have those voicemails at work that i haven't figured out how to get off of my phone. Gotta figure that out. There are some really funny voicemails from mom and there are the really sad ones of my mom getting sicker and sicker, from each of the hospital rooms she stayed at.
As much as i'm trying not to make a big deal out of the 1 year anniversary, i realize that i'm constantly checking the countdown in my mind. T minus... and counting.
Why do i feel she's not dead yet? That after April 1st she will be dead, but not yet. Will the second year feel that way, too? Am i going to be stuck in pre-April 1st, 2009, 2:26pm forever? No, not forever, obviously. Nothing lasts forever for me. But for a while? Years?
ETA: Speech synthesis. Like what the Scottish company did to help Roger Ebert speak. Hmmm.
Is it creepy that i tried to remember how much of my mom's voice i have recorded so that i could put it into a similar program or device and have my mom talk to me?
Unfortunately the truth is i don't have very much of a recording. Oh, i do have those voicemails at work that i haven't figured out how to get off of my phone. Gotta figure that out. There are some really funny voicemails from mom and there are the really sad ones of my mom getting sicker and sicker, from each of the hospital rooms she stayed at.
As much as i'm trying not to make a big deal out of the 1 year anniversary, i realize that i'm constantly checking the countdown in my mind. T minus... and counting.
Why do i feel she's not dead yet? That after April 1st she will be dead, but not yet. Will the second year feel that way, too? Am i going to be stuck in pre-April 1st, 2009, 2:26pm forever? No, not forever, obviously. Nothing lasts forever for me. But for a while? Years?
ETA: Speech synthesis. Like what the Scottish company did to help Roger Ebert speak. Hmmm.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Success!
The head has been shaved. I raised more money than i ever imagined i would.
It was a great night. I'm still overwhelmed by the support of my family and friends. Plus major adrenaline rush.
I need to start sleeping like a normal person soon. I'm so wired.
So far, it's nice to not have to pull my hair back to wash my face.
I wish my mom could touch my head.
It was a great night. I'm still overwhelmed by the support of my family and friends. Plus major adrenaline rush.
I need to start sleeping like a normal person soon. I'm so wired.
So far, it's nice to not have to pull my hair back to wash my face.
I wish my mom could touch my head.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
grateful
I have known good people my whole life.
There are so many individuals who have been kind to me, who have encouraged me, who have shown me warmth and given me love.
I am so lucky.
I tend to become too afraid of doing the wrong thing or saying the wrong thing, so i don't feel like i express my appreciation the way i ought to.
Kristeen sings lyrics i just adore:
He implies. He refrains.
He plays kiss-SLAP with a phrase.
His small talk’s a Work of Art.
Those Brit boys love their discourse.
Me? I just want to scream, “OH, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU!!”
~He's Sickened By My Crude Emotion
I want to scream i love you and i want to scream thank you. I've screwed up in my life but those doors keep opening for me. I want to thank everybody i can remember, for as far back as i can remember.
I bawled my eyes out over the weekend and i feel a lot of sadness and hurt but at the SAME TIME i feel fortunate. Everywhere i look there is a blessing. I know i've had way more than my share of good people in my life.
It's actually overwhelming. I start wanting to pray again. Please help me do the right thing with all of the love that i keep getting. Please help me to not be afraid.
I want to be awake.
There are so many individuals who have been kind to me, who have encouraged me, who have shown me warmth and given me love.
I am so lucky.
I tend to become too afraid of doing the wrong thing or saying the wrong thing, so i don't feel like i express my appreciation the way i ought to.
Kristeen sings lyrics i just adore:
He implies. He refrains.
He plays kiss-SLAP with a phrase.
His small talk’s a Work of Art.
Those Brit boys love their discourse.
Me? I just want to scream, “OH, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU!!”
~He's Sickened By My Crude Emotion
I want to scream i love you and i want to scream thank you. I've screwed up in my life but those doors keep opening for me. I want to thank everybody i can remember, for as far back as i can remember.
I bawled my eyes out over the weekend and i feel a lot of sadness and hurt but at the SAME TIME i feel fortunate. Everywhere i look there is a blessing. I know i've had way more than my share of good people in my life.
It's actually overwhelming. I start wanting to pray again. Please help me do the right thing with all of the love that i keep getting. Please help me to not be afraid.
I want to be awake.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Near the end, i was sitting at my mom's bedside, the hospital bed that was brought by Calvary, and as was my custom, i asked her if she loved me. She said, "mucho." And i asked her if i loved her, and she said "mucho." And i smiled and said, "yes." And in her weakened voice she said, "es una historia de amor. De una madre y una hija que juraron amarse para siempre." And i was floored, but i laughed and tried harder than ever not to cry, and i kissed her. That might be the most beautiful thing she ever said to me.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
One month more of hair
Today was a good day.
Fran (and we) got good news about her dad's status. Stunning. Weird how good news can stun you and also make you cry. Maybe that's just me. I probably border more on the incredulity line than other people.
Anyway wonderful, happy news.
Had a wonderful night with Brianne, Kerri, Sara and Alison last night. Just so beautiful. I wanted to watch more home videos! Hear more of Betsy's beautiful voice. We all laughed really hard during one of Alison's stories. What a glorious sight to look around the table at all our laughing faces. It was pure light. One of the great masters should have been there to paint us! It was art! And Bri mentioned how she didn't picture herself laughing yesterday but it happened.
Had a really good session with Dr. Hirsh. As usual (and i hate predictability when i'm dead set against something), my hesitation proved to be wrong because i got a lot out of going.
I talked about how good i felt at the cemetery on Saturday and how i realized it was because it was the first time i was there by myself. I think maybe Georgia pointed it out to me. I could be myself, i didn't have to worry about not crying in front of my family, about not worrying them. That reaction we all seem to have, where we don't want to worry our loved ones and yet they are the most indicated people to take care of us in our time of sorrow.
So the cemetery was beautiful and i kept thinking that if my mom was there, sitting next to me on the bench, she would really like it.
Mike DePope pointed out today that i have four more weeks of hair. The big shave is in one month exactly!
I have a lot more to write about, like my dinner on Saturday and the FAO Schwartz party.
I was thinking today about the amazing ability of our heart to grow. The way we can love things because someone we love loves them. Like the way Elizabeth felt joy from Lady Gaga so then immediately now i like her, when i didn't to begin with. Lady Gaga brings Elizabeth joy and makes her dance in the street, my heart makes room for Lady Gaga.
I don't care much for the Winter Olympics and say that i'm not even interested in overhyped events like figure skating and Kerri says she loves the figure skating event, and she smiles, and i think, you IDIOT! So because of Kerri and Leslie i want to watch figure skating because i make room in my heart for them and what makes them happy.
Granted, i also go in the opposite direction and dislike something when the person i dislike likes it. Apart from clumsy grammar in that sentence, this implies that i close a room in my heart, which would lead to shrinking, which i surmise would be the wrong direction in which to direct my heart.
So more compassion and more love and more patience.
And i had a dream that my dog was named Quentin and Diana didn't like the name so i changed it to Popeye and she liked it better.
Fran (and we) got good news about her dad's status. Stunning. Weird how good news can stun you and also make you cry. Maybe that's just me. I probably border more on the incredulity line than other people.
Anyway wonderful, happy news.
Had a wonderful night with Brianne, Kerri, Sara and Alison last night. Just so beautiful. I wanted to watch more home videos! Hear more of Betsy's beautiful voice. We all laughed really hard during one of Alison's stories. What a glorious sight to look around the table at all our laughing faces. It was pure light. One of the great masters should have been there to paint us! It was art! And Bri mentioned how she didn't picture herself laughing yesterday but it happened.
Had a really good session with Dr. Hirsh. As usual (and i hate predictability when i'm dead set against something), my hesitation proved to be wrong because i got a lot out of going.
I talked about how good i felt at the cemetery on Saturday and how i realized it was because it was the first time i was there by myself. I think maybe Georgia pointed it out to me. I could be myself, i didn't have to worry about not crying in front of my family, about not worrying them. That reaction we all seem to have, where we don't want to worry our loved ones and yet they are the most indicated people to take care of us in our time of sorrow.
So the cemetery was beautiful and i kept thinking that if my mom was there, sitting next to me on the bench, she would really like it.
Mike DePope pointed out today that i have four more weeks of hair. The big shave is in one month exactly!
I have a lot more to write about, like my dinner on Saturday and the FAO Schwartz party.
I was thinking today about the amazing ability of our heart to grow. The way we can love things because someone we love loves them. Like the way Elizabeth felt joy from Lady Gaga so then immediately now i like her, when i didn't to begin with. Lady Gaga brings Elizabeth joy and makes her dance in the street, my heart makes room for Lady Gaga.
I don't care much for the Winter Olympics and say that i'm not even interested in overhyped events like figure skating and Kerri says she loves the figure skating event, and she smiles, and i think, you IDIOT! So because of Kerri and Leslie i want to watch figure skating because i make room in my heart for them and what makes them happy.
Granted, i also go in the opposite direction and dislike something when the person i dislike likes it. Apart from clumsy grammar in that sentence, this implies that i close a room in my heart, which would lead to shrinking, which i surmise would be the wrong direction in which to direct my heart.
So more compassion and more love and more patience.
And i had a dream that my dog was named Quentin and Diana didn't like the name so i changed it to Popeye and she liked it better.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Saturday was great. Just what i wanted and what i needed.
On Sunday i saw Andre DeShields in his wonderful show, "Mine Eyes Have Seen The Glory." It was inspiring, he is inspiring, and for 70 minutes i was alive with empathy, curiosity, longing, laughter and nostalgia.
I let Lucy and Ricky out of the cage tonight because i read that birds need to exercise their breast bones. Poor things. I always criticized my mom for wanting to keep pet birds, for imprisoning them and violating the laws of nature. But now they are my only company and they connect me to her.
I'm watching the first part of "Angels in America." It's completely mind-blowing.
Just in the kitchen, i was thinking about how so many times i really, really want to learn. I love to learn. I want to know more. But i think that more often i don't want to know more. And that will keep me from Buddha nature, from being enlightened.
I don't want to know because i'm afraid. Of everything.
I am the same person i was before my mother died. I saw something horrible happen, but i don't really see how it changed me. At least not for the better. I think wonderful things have happened to me since then, but i don't feel like i've moved more than maybe a centimeter in growth.
If i stay alive i hope i grow and learn. I don't want to be the same person i am today in ten years.
On Sunday i saw Andre DeShields in his wonderful show, "Mine Eyes Have Seen The Glory." It was inspiring, he is inspiring, and for 70 minutes i was alive with empathy, curiosity, longing, laughter and nostalgia.
I let Lucy and Ricky out of the cage tonight because i read that birds need to exercise their breast bones. Poor things. I always criticized my mom for wanting to keep pet birds, for imprisoning them and violating the laws of nature. But now they are my only company and they connect me to her.
I'm watching the first part of "Angels in America." It's completely mind-blowing.
Just in the kitchen, i was thinking about how so many times i really, really want to learn. I love to learn. I want to know more. But i think that more often i don't want to know more. And that will keep me from Buddha nature, from being enlightened.
I don't want to know because i'm afraid. Of everything.
I am the same person i was before my mother died. I saw something horrible happen, but i don't really see how it changed me. At least not for the better. I think wonderful things have happened to me since then, but i don't feel like i've moved more than maybe a centimeter in growth.
If i stay alive i hope i grow and learn. I don't want to be the same person i am today in ten years.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Happy birthday mom 2-13-41
I just got home from the cemetery. It was beautiful, it is a beautiful place. I hadn't been there since Mother's Day last year. Now i feel like i might go back more often because i actually felt a lot of peace and beauty there.
I wrote mom a birthday card/poem/love note. Roses are red, violets are blue and stuff like that. I bought her a single white rose and i taped the card to it, and i planted it in the snow along the bottom of the wall she's in. I listened to Mecano a bit while there.
I was so happy to find a florist shop in the area so i could buy the roses. I'm going to have a celebratory dinner with my friends tonight at Via Brasil, in honor of my mom's love of Brazilian culture and food.
I was really touched by something that happened on my way home. I was waiting at the M4 bus stop and an M5 stopped there but the M4 whizzed on by. I stood there, puzzled, about to get angry, i think i even pouted. Then the M5 bus driver honked her horn and asked me if i wanted to try to catch the M4. So i got on and she told me not to pay anything. I thanked her and she dropped me off at 145th because she knew the M4 had to stop there. I thanked her again and wished her a happy Valentine's day. I really felt like it was such a kind gesture, a random act of kindness, and i felt like my mom was watching out for me. Or, at least, that she was showing me that there are still good things and kind people in the world.
Mecano have so many beautiful love songs and sad songs but i like to think of my mom as the one having fun in this song:
I wrote mom a birthday card/poem/love note. Roses are red, violets are blue and stuff like that. I bought her a single white rose and i taped the card to it, and i planted it in the snow along the bottom of the wall she's in. I listened to Mecano a bit while there.
I was so happy to find a florist shop in the area so i could buy the roses. I'm going to have a celebratory dinner with my friends tonight at Via Brasil, in honor of my mom's love of Brazilian culture and food.
I was really touched by something that happened on my way home. I was waiting at the M4 bus stop and an M5 stopped there but the M4 whizzed on by. I stood there, puzzled, about to get angry, i think i even pouted. Then the M5 bus driver honked her horn and asked me if i wanted to try to catch the M4. So i got on and she told me not to pay anything. I thanked her and she dropped me off at 145th because she knew the M4 had to stop there. I thanked her again and wished her a happy Valentine's day. I really felt like it was such a kind gesture, a random act of kindness, and i felt like my mom was watching out for me. Or, at least, that she was showing me that there are still good things and kind people in the world.
Mecano have so many beautiful love songs and sad songs but i like to think of my mom as the one having fun in this song:
Friday, February 5, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
I felt great today. Completely renewed by group last night. Also, the coffee got me wired and productive.
I told Dr. Hirsh about how angry i was after last week's session. He said it's good for me to make a habit of expressing my anger, especially at the time that i feel it. And i felt completely comfortable telling him.
He said i might not realize the capacity of my self-conscious. That's it's like a sponge. Sometimes i hope that things that i hear sink in and don't just go out the other ear.
He also said that i have skills and abilities that i'm not aware of. That i can use this knowledge to rely on them and trust that they will get me through the pain that i feel. Something to think about.
I told him how i think of the things in my life that help me to not sink, help me to hang on. That while i was walking to the subway i thought about Kristeen's music like a rope, one i can hang on to and pull myself back up out of the quicksand.
So Dr. Hirsh looked up KY on iTunes and asked me to name my favorites. "Life's Not Short It's So Long" and "The Depression Contest" were the two i named right off the bat. Then he asked me if i knew The Eels. I don't, so he played this song which is perfect:
I told Dr. Hirsh about how angry i was after last week's session. He said it's good for me to make a habit of expressing my anger, especially at the time that i feel it. And i felt completely comfortable telling him.
He said i might not realize the capacity of my self-conscious. That's it's like a sponge. Sometimes i hope that things that i hear sink in and don't just go out the other ear.
He also said that i have skills and abilities that i'm not aware of. That i can use this knowledge to rely on them and trust that they will get me through the pain that i feel. Something to think about.
I told him how i think of the things in my life that help me to not sink, help me to hang on. That while i was walking to the subway i thought about Kristeen's music like a rope, one i can hang on to and pull myself back up out of the quicksand.
So Dr. Hirsh looked up KY on iTunes and asked me to name my favorites. "Life's Not Short It's So Long" and "The Depression Contest" were the two i named right off the bat. Then he asked me if i knew The Eels. I don't, so he played this song which is perfect:
I love KY
Once again, Kristeen Young gets me through the day. Thank universe for my headphone at work.
Found this while trying to find a video of her. Love it:
http://www.popnography.com/2010/01/need-to-know-kristeen-young.html
Found this while trying to find a video of her. Love it:
http://www.popnography.com/2010/01/need-to-know-kristeen-young.html
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Just got home from my "grief relief" club, as Dr. Hirsh put it.
It's like a fountain of hope and strength. And yes, it provides much relief.
Going down into the subway i thought to myself, i'm so glad that winter's still going strong, i wish i could keep bundling myself up in my coat and never have to dress for summer.
On the way home i thought, i hope winter ends soon because it's causing grief to the people i love. And that made me feel good. To want something more for someone else than for yourself is probably one of the best feelings of being alive.
Sitting at the round table tonight was like plugging into that greater power or universe that many religions talk about. Wishing for strength, peace, happiness, healing, success, love, comfort and wellness for my sisters makes me feel like i need to keep living. So often i feel like the Grinch whose heart grew many sizes. I swear sometimes i can really feel my heart growing. When i feel this connection to my loved ones while still feeling pain inside myself it gives me hope that i can do this thing, life. I can stop caring about myself easily, in a snap. But as soon as i stop caring about other people that's the moment that i will be dead.
I felt so comforted to hear my group sisters cheer me on in my St. Baldrick's commitment.
Like i said to Cara when we were walking on 23rd street, we are so lucky to have each other. It's such a blessing. There's no word to describe it. Maybe it's pure love.
The snow on my street made me cry. I miss my mom in the snow: her short, measured steps, her coat hood secured by the big red scarf, her pretty, red leather gloves.
I don't want to die, and that's the first victory for me.
I'm sad and i'm going to be sad for a long time. And i have to keep swimming, keep my head above water, keep socializing, keep being honest with myself and my loved ones, keep loving people, keep trying to be a better person.
Remember that the dark days make the bright ones possible.
It's like a fountain of hope and strength. And yes, it provides much relief.
Going down into the subway i thought to myself, i'm so glad that winter's still going strong, i wish i could keep bundling myself up in my coat and never have to dress for summer.
On the way home i thought, i hope winter ends soon because it's causing grief to the people i love. And that made me feel good. To want something more for someone else than for yourself is probably one of the best feelings of being alive.
Sitting at the round table tonight was like plugging into that greater power or universe that many religions talk about. Wishing for strength, peace, happiness, healing, success, love, comfort and wellness for my sisters makes me feel like i need to keep living. So often i feel like the Grinch whose heart grew many sizes. I swear sometimes i can really feel my heart growing. When i feel this connection to my loved ones while still feeling pain inside myself it gives me hope that i can do this thing, life. I can stop caring about myself easily, in a snap. But as soon as i stop caring about other people that's the moment that i will be dead.
I felt so comforted to hear my group sisters cheer me on in my St. Baldrick's commitment.
Like i said to Cara when we were walking on 23rd street, we are so lucky to have each other. It's such a blessing. There's no word to describe it. Maybe it's pure love.
The snow on my street made me cry. I miss my mom in the snow: her short, measured steps, her coat hood secured by the big red scarf, her pretty, red leather gloves.
I don't want to die, and that's the first victory for me.
I'm sad and i'm going to be sad for a long time. And i have to keep swimming, keep my head above water, keep socializing, keep being honest with myself and my loved ones, keep loving people, keep trying to be a better person.
Remember that the dark days make the bright ones possible.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Last week was the first time i left Dr. Hirsh's office and felt worse than when i had walked in. Well, maybe not worse, but definitely not better.
Last week was very dark, which i suppose is good/normal/acceptable considering i had a great week in early January and many good days aside from that.
Mucho grande depression.
I walked out of my building on Saturday night to pick up Chinese food and literally started crying as soon as i stepped onto the sidewalk. It was weird.
I cried all day Tuesday. Big time Tuesday night.
Thursday was bad except for the part where i saw Georgia. I felt sick going home, the sadness really piling up, me standing on the subway platform pacing up and down trying to keep the tears in.
The weekend was horrible.
The fact that i get up, shower and go to work is a good sign. I still care enough to keep my job and get a paycheck and pay my rent and buy food. I'm still on this side of that tug of war.
The freezing cold air on my face last night felt SO good.
Friday night i started reading "Being Peace" on the subway ride home and tried to practice the smiling and it helped. But yesterday i couldn't manage it.
Today, at work, i put the mask back on, smile again. The smiling actually does make me feel better. Also, it's harder to be depressed when i'm among people i know. In a crowd of strangers, it's super easy. But i'm at ease at work, so at least here things feel relatively under control.
And it helps very much that i can tune into NPR or music and engage myself in every way so i'm not left alone to think.
Last week was very dark, which i suppose is good/normal/acceptable considering i had a great week in early January and many good days aside from that.
Mucho grande depression.
I walked out of my building on Saturday night to pick up Chinese food and literally started crying as soon as i stepped onto the sidewalk. It was weird.
I cried all day Tuesday. Big time Tuesday night.
Thursday was bad except for the part where i saw Georgia. I felt sick going home, the sadness really piling up, me standing on the subway platform pacing up and down trying to keep the tears in.
The weekend was horrible.
The fact that i get up, shower and go to work is a good sign. I still care enough to keep my job and get a paycheck and pay my rent and buy food. I'm still on this side of that tug of war.
The freezing cold air on my face last night felt SO good.
Friday night i started reading "Being Peace" on the subway ride home and tried to practice the smiling and it helped. But yesterday i couldn't manage it.
Today, at work, i put the mask back on, smile again. The smiling actually does make me feel better. Also, it's harder to be depressed when i'm among people i know. In a crowd of strangers, it's super easy. But i'm at ease at work, so at least here things feel relatively under control.
And it helps very much that i can tune into NPR or music and engage myself in every way so i'm not left alone to think.
Monday, January 25, 2010
I never, i don't think, write in here when i'm happy. And i certainly don't think about writing in here. Well, that's not true. Sometimes, when something good has happened to me, i think about how i would write about it. But i usually don't.
But when i'm walking down the street, feeling miserable, batting the tears out of my eyelashes, i'm definitely thinking about how i'm going to write that down in here.
Is it because i need to get it off my chest because it hurts so much? Because expressing it, even to cyberspace and onto a screen, actually helps me to bear it? Why do i have to record when i feel at my lowest? Maybe to legitimize it. To say, i feel like shit because x,y,z. Also, sometimes when i'm "talking it out" i see the situation from a different perspective. Maybe in the end i just get a better grip on it all after i've written it down. Probably it's that keeping it inside, unspoken, will kill me.
I had a few dreams with my mother over the weekend. Nothing revelatory or mind-blowing or particularly delicious, which is what i hope for. But she was there and this morning that made me wake up at 8:32am. I'm supposed to be going out the door for work at that time. But i just kept going back to sleep because i didn't want to leave her, i wanted to stay with her. I don't even remember the dream that well, or the other two i had a few nights ago. I sort of remember but almost don't feel like writing them down. It was good to have her in the dream, even though she was sick in them. But waking up was so harsh. Literally, waking up again to the fact that she's dead. Again. Why at the end of January is this a hard concept to grasp again? Probably because her birthday's coming up.
I walked through Lincoln Center today during lunch, on my way back from tia's where i was checking in on the birds and cat, and they've redone the plazas. The main fountain's totally different, the benches surrounding the azalea bushes by the pool are gone, replaced by some "grove" of tiny trees and very modern rounded stone benches. The old benches are gone. All these changes around the city move me further away from my past with my mother, my childhood and my adulthood. It's like she's going backward and the city is going forward. Everything i see is like a sign that she's gone.
Sometimes i think of my grief as if i'm swimming through it. Sometimes i'm thrashing about, trying to stay afloat and not drown. Sometimes i'm just floating along, not moving, not stirring anything up. Sometimes it's a relaxed ride.
But today i didn't feel that way. Today, walking in the rain, which is, by the way, a surefire condition for me to cry, i thought of it as a contained explosion. I was walking down the street, just keeping it together. Just keeping myself from breaking open and spilling all over the sidewalk. And i wonder, how do i do this today? How do i do this for the next 30 days? The next 300 days?
I haven't transformed. I haven't been broken open in a good way, like that awesome book describes. Maybe it's in the future.
I don't really have anything to say other than i'm sad, i miss my mom, i wish she were here, i wish i could get a do-over, i don't think this is fair.
I want to do stuff for her, not for myself. I'm no substitute for her.
I'm grateful. People love me. I know amazing, inspiring, lovely people. I've been blessed every single day of my life. I don't think i'm ever not lucky.
But i'm sad and my heart hurts.
I'm lucky but i'm not happy. What's the next step to fixing that? I have to be happy before i die, right?
Sometimes i'm afraid that if i don't write stuff down i'll forget it. Like the specifics of my mom's illness and the treatments and the last days. Like, was that on a weekday or weekend? Was it 2 weeks before she died or 1 week? Did we take the subway that day or was she too weak for it already? What were the last words she said to me? I only just asked myself that a few days ago. I have no idea what they were.
I realized that being in fear of forgetting is missing the point. There's TOO much to remember. It's all there. I have to shut down my memory so that i don't go crazy. I'm not struggling with the details, i'm keeping them at bay because i don't want to go back there. I need to find happiness in my memories and for now my default is to focus on the sad memories. I would like that to stop.
But when i'm walking down the street, feeling miserable, batting the tears out of my eyelashes, i'm definitely thinking about how i'm going to write that down in here.
Is it because i need to get it off my chest because it hurts so much? Because expressing it, even to cyberspace and onto a screen, actually helps me to bear it? Why do i have to record when i feel at my lowest? Maybe to legitimize it. To say, i feel like shit because x,y,z. Also, sometimes when i'm "talking it out" i see the situation from a different perspective. Maybe in the end i just get a better grip on it all after i've written it down. Probably it's that keeping it inside, unspoken, will kill me.
I had a few dreams with my mother over the weekend. Nothing revelatory or mind-blowing or particularly delicious, which is what i hope for. But she was there and this morning that made me wake up at 8:32am. I'm supposed to be going out the door for work at that time. But i just kept going back to sleep because i didn't want to leave her, i wanted to stay with her. I don't even remember the dream that well, or the other two i had a few nights ago. I sort of remember but almost don't feel like writing them down. It was good to have her in the dream, even though she was sick in them. But waking up was so harsh. Literally, waking up again to the fact that she's dead. Again. Why at the end of January is this a hard concept to grasp again? Probably because her birthday's coming up.
I walked through Lincoln Center today during lunch, on my way back from tia's where i was checking in on the birds and cat, and they've redone the plazas. The main fountain's totally different, the benches surrounding the azalea bushes by the pool are gone, replaced by some "grove" of tiny trees and very modern rounded stone benches. The old benches are gone. All these changes around the city move me further away from my past with my mother, my childhood and my adulthood. It's like she's going backward and the city is going forward. Everything i see is like a sign that she's gone.
Sometimes i think of my grief as if i'm swimming through it. Sometimes i'm thrashing about, trying to stay afloat and not drown. Sometimes i'm just floating along, not moving, not stirring anything up. Sometimes it's a relaxed ride.
But today i didn't feel that way. Today, walking in the rain, which is, by the way, a surefire condition for me to cry, i thought of it as a contained explosion. I was walking down the street, just keeping it together. Just keeping myself from breaking open and spilling all over the sidewalk. And i wonder, how do i do this today? How do i do this for the next 30 days? The next 300 days?
I haven't transformed. I haven't been broken open in a good way, like that awesome book describes. Maybe it's in the future.
I don't really have anything to say other than i'm sad, i miss my mom, i wish she were here, i wish i could get a do-over, i don't think this is fair.
I want to do stuff for her, not for myself. I'm no substitute for her.
I'm grateful. People love me. I know amazing, inspiring, lovely people. I've been blessed every single day of my life. I don't think i'm ever not lucky.
But i'm sad and my heart hurts.
I'm lucky but i'm not happy. What's the next step to fixing that? I have to be happy before i die, right?
Sometimes i'm afraid that if i don't write stuff down i'll forget it. Like the specifics of my mom's illness and the treatments and the last days. Like, was that on a weekday or weekend? Was it 2 weeks before she died or 1 week? Did we take the subway that day or was she too weak for it already? What were the last words she said to me? I only just asked myself that a few days ago. I have no idea what they were.
I realized that being in fear of forgetting is missing the point. There's TOO much to remember. It's all there. I have to shut down my memory so that i don't go crazy. I'm not struggling with the details, i'm keeping them at bay because i don't want to go back there. I need to find happiness in my memories and for now my default is to focus on the sad memories. I would like that to stop.
Friday, January 22, 2010
I want you back.
This is from the movie "Talk to Her," the last one my mom ever saw,one or two weeks before she died. Sad, sad movie but i loved this song from the time i was a child, particularly the original version by the great Lola Beltran. Never knew it would mean exactly how i feel:
I can't stop listening to its many versions.
I really like this person's video for the same song, too. I came to my blog tonight to try to express "tears falling."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mXzh1aD6bQ0
They say that at nights
all he did was cry
they say he didn't eat
all he did was drink
they swear that even the heavens
shuddered to hear his weeping
How he suffered for her
That even at his death he called for her
"Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay", he would sing
"Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay", he would wail
"Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay", he would sing
From a fatal passion he was dying
They say a sad dove in the early morning would go to sing
to the empty house, with its doors open wide
They swear that dove is nothing more than his soul,
who still waits for her return, the unfortunate one.
Cucurrucucú, dove
cucurrucucú, don't cry
Stones will never, dove
Know anything about love
Dicen que por las noches no más se le iba en puro llorar.
Dicen que no comía, no más se le iba en puro tomar.
Juran que el mismo cielo se estremecía al oír su llanto.
¡Cómo sufrió por ella, que hasta en su muerte la fue llamando!
"Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay", cantaba.
"Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay", gemía.
"Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay", cantaba.
De pasión mortal moría.
Que una paloma triste muy de mañana le va a cantar
a la casita sola con las puertitas de par en par.
Juran que esa paloma no es otra cosa más que su alma,
que todavía la espera a que regrese, la desdichada.
Cucurrucucú, paloma,
cucurrucucú, no llores.
Las piedras jamás, paloma,
qué van a saber de amores.
***
My mom and i always loved rancheras. We shared a love for Latin American music, especially tangos, rancheras, boleros and baladas. The music of heartache and love. Tears channelled into song. This is where i need to be, with the music that connects me to my mom. I wonder now how i could relate to this music, as a teen, without truly knowing what a broken heart feels like.
I have lots of plans for this year that i'm very excited and optimistic about, but at the end of the day, right now, she is still missing. I want her back. Or i want to go back.
I can't stop listening to its many versions.
I really like this person's video for the same song, too. I came to my blog tonight to try to express "tears falling."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mXzh1aD6bQ0
They say that at nights
all he did was cry
they say he didn't eat
all he did was drink
they swear that even the heavens
shuddered to hear his weeping
How he suffered for her
That even at his death he called for her
"Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay", he would sing
"Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay", he would wail
"Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay", he would sing
From a fatal passion he was dying
They say a sad dove in the early morning would go to sing
to the empty house, with its doors open wide
They swear that dove is nothing more than his soul,
who still waits for her return, the unfortunate one.
Cucurrucucú, dove
cucurrucucú, don't cry
Stones will never, dove
Know anything about love
Dicen que por las noches no más se le iba en puro llorar.
Dicen que no comía, no más se le iba en puro tomar.
Juran que el mismo cielo se estremecía al oír su llanto.
¡Cómo sufrió por ella, que hasta en su muerte la fue llamando!
"Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay", cantaba.
"Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay", gemía.
"Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay", cantaba.
De pasión mortal moría.
Que una paloma triste muy de mañana le va a cantar
a la casita sola con las puertitas de par en par.
Juran que esa paloma no es otra cosa más que su alma,
que todavía la espera a que regrese, la desdichada.
Cucurrucucú, paloma,
cucurrucucú, no llores.
Las piedras jamás, paloma,
qué van a saber de amores.
***
My mom and i always loved rancheras. We shared a love for Latin American music, especially tangos, rancheras, boleros and baladas. The music of heartache and love. Tears channelled into song. This is where i need to be, with the music that connects me to my mom. I wonder now how i could relate to this music, as a teen, without truly knowing what a broken heart feels like.
I have lots of plans for this year that i'm very excited and optimistic about, but at the end of the day, right now, she is still missing. I want her back. Or i want to go back.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
i DO care about my family
I had a great, though exhausting week.I was very happy or feeling very good nearly every day. Probably because i spent most of the time with people who make me happy.
But today i'm sad and have no energy and i wish i could just go blank. I dreamt with my mom last night and she was sick and i was scared in the dream that she was getting too sick for me to be able to help her. I woke up feeling uneasy.
I had a conversation with Tia Emilia last night that hurt my feelings. She said that i don't really care about my family, that this is something she's figured out lately. It's not true. I'm not very good at showing people i care, i guess. I don't call Tia every day, maybe twice a week or once a week. I talk to my other Tia a lot more often because she calls me. And i see her more often because she lives nearby. I haven't seen Tia Emilia since before Christmas. I guess from her point of view i just don't care enough about her to make an effort to go to Long Island. She told me that i would rather spend time with anybody else than with my family. Not true. I said that i'm just not accustomed to spending 24 hours a day with family. That was a defensive use of exaggeration but the truth is, i lived without family for at least half of my life, if not more. I'm used to making my friends the priority. Well, my mother and my friends.
Tia Emilia just made me feel guilty because i really don't keep in contact the way i should or they expect or the way it's done in the Nino family. And she made me feel guilty for having fun and going out to do things with friends. Whenever i tell her about an event i'm going to she says, "enjoy yourself," but each time i wonder if she's being sincere or not. Like i detect a hint of bitterness. But am i projecting? My mom didn't do that. She flat out chastised me for going out with friends and having fun and neglecting my "duties at home" or accused me of being embarrassed of going out with my mother. She made it seem like she was offended that i spent time with other people and not her. But that wasn't true. We spent so much time together.
But it gets to the point with both of my tias, and in remembering my mom, that i can't tell the difference between what reality is and what they guilt-trip me about. I don't think i'm as bad as they make me out to be but what if i am? How can i even know?
I told Tia that i wanted to go to Long Island last night but i was extremely tired and didn't feel well so i went straight home after work. I didn't tell her that i'd been out nearly every night for a week straight and that's why i'm tired. And, mind you, not out drinking and partying, just doing things with people i like such as: Miss Millenium on Saturday, knitting club on Sunday, book club on Monday/hanging out with Jes for a bit, Fight Club on Tuesday, KRISTEENYOUNG with Jenna and Mike on Wednesday.
So i told Tia i wanted to go but decided not to in the end. She said, "oh yeah, you really wanted, you really wanted. yeah, right." It's far and it costs money to go out there. But then again when she's gone from this world i'll probably feel guilty that i didn't make more of an effort to spend time with her. But when do i start acting by my own decisions and not out of guilt? How do you do that?
Tia also said that family in Colombia has been asking about me, that they want to know how i am. So i felt bad that i never call them to talk. But i didn't grow up talking to them. I mean, i love them, and i've had some wonderful times with them but it's not like i spend every summer or every holiday with my family. No, it was almost always just me and my mom. I do need to reach out to my tia Angelica and my cousin Pilar who were very supportive of my mom and me. I mean, we had a connection to them in particular even though lots of members of my family were incredibly supportive.
Maybe i'm an ingrate, like Tia Beatriz calls me. I HATE that word. I already told her not to use it but she's an old lady and i can't change her. She also called me in a panic yesterday because she's leaving for Ecuador next week and has lots of last minute packing and preparing to do. It was 8:30 pm and she needed me to come over and help her. I do want to help her, and i promised to go tomorrow. I guess in between seeing a play with Koji and going to Jes' to watch The Golden Globes. Then i'll go to Long Island on Monday and spend the whole day there.
I felt guilty telling Tia Emilia that i have an Eddie Izzard concert tonight at MSG (tickets i bought in October!) and another event tomorrow. She said that she told the family in Colombia that i'm fine, that i seem to be fine and that i have fun. So, and we talk about this in Fight Club, part of me wants to make sure people know i am in pain. Even if they see me laugh or if i go to a show or a party, that doesn't mean i'm not sad or grieving or a mess on some levels. Why do we care that people know this or not? It won't make me feel better. I think it's because it's important to acknowledge that the loss of my mother is devastating. Not just the day she died, or the month after or for the first year. Always. And even when life goes on, that fact still remains.
I don't want to have to tell Tia that i do fun things to make myself laugh, to forget my sadness, to distract myself from the dark times. I don't want to feel like i HAVE to explain myself. But i also know i don't want her to think that i don't care about my mother anymore and that i'm just out there having fun, and forgetting about my family.
Also, just because i don't want to go to Colombia doesn't mean i don't love my family. I don't want to go. I don't want to force myself to do it when i don't want to.
I also need to remind myself that Tia Emilia is a master of the guilt trip and is also the best exaggerater i know. She blows things out of proportion and is melodramatic a lot of the time. I love her immensely but there's something about her, whether she's criticizing the way i look or the things i do, that just brings me down. I guess not that different from my relationship with my mom. She made me feel great and me feel bad.
I feel C-R-A-P-P-Y today. I'm avoiding the Haiti news.
Oh, please let this be really bad PMS. I think part of it must be that. It gets me pretty bad. I guess i just get more sensitive around this time.
Good thing i have a comedy concert tonight to help me fill my laughter quota.
I really feel right now like i don't want to leave my apartment. I don't want to be in daylight or around people. I used my lightbox for 2 hours today. I need to do laundry so badly. I need to buy a dryer.
I'm resisting binging to make myself feel better. I've eaten healthy today so far.
I can't even think of any junk food that would entice me right now.
But today i'm sad and have no energy and i wish i could just go blank. I dreamt with my mom last night and she was sick and i was scared in the dream that she was getting too sick for me to be able to help her. I woke up feeling uneasy.
I had a conversation with Tia Emilia last night that hurt my feelings. She said that i don't really care about my family, that this is something she's figured out lately. It's not true. I'm not very good at showing people i care, i guess. I don't call Tia every day, maybe twice a week or once a week. I talk to my other Tia a lot more often because she calls me. And i see her more often because she lives nearby. I haven't seen Tia Emilia since before Christmas. I guess from her point of view i just don't care enough about her to make an effort to go to Long Island. She told me that i would rather spend time with anybody else than with my family. Not true. I said that i'm just not accustomed to spending 24 hours a day with family. That was a defensive use of exaggeration but the truth is, i lived without family for at least half of my life, if not more. I'm used to making my friends the priority. Well, my mother and my friends.
Tia Emilia just made me feel guilty because i really don't keep in contact the way i should or they expect or the way it's done in the Nino family. And she made me feel guilty for having fun and going out to do things with friends. Whenever i tell her about an event i'm going to she says, "enjoy yourself," but each time i wonder if she's being sincere or not. Like i detect a hint of bitterness. But am i projecting? My mom didn't do that. She flat out chastised me for going out with friends and having fun and neglecting my "duties at home" or accused me of being embarrassed of going out with my mother. She made it seem like she was offended that i spent time with other people and not her. But that wasn't true. We spent so much time together.
But it gets to the point with both of my tias, and in remembering my mom, that i can't tell the difference between what reality is and what they guilt-trip me about. I don't think i'm as bad as they make me out to be but what if i am? How can i even know?
I told Tia that i wanted to go to Long Island last night but i was extremely tired and didn't feel well so i went straight home after work. I didn't tell her that i'd been out nearly every night for a week straight and that's why i'm tired. And, mind you, not out drinking and partying, just doing things with people i like such as: Miss Millenium on Saturday, knitting club on Sunday, book club on Monday/hanging out with Jes for a bit, Fight Club on Tuesday, KRISTEENYOUNG with Jenna and Mike on Wednesday.
So i told Tia i wanted to go but decided not to in the end. She said, "oh yeah, you really wanted, you really wanted. yeah, right." It's far and it costs money to go out there. But then again when she's gone from this world i'll probably feel guilty that i didn't make more of an effort to spend time with her. But when do i start acting by my own decisions and not out of guilt? How do you do that?
Tia also said that family in Colombia has been asking about me, that they want to know how i am. So i felt bad that i never call them to talk. But i didn't grow up talking to them. I mean, i love them, and i've had some wonderful times with them but it's not like i spend every summer or every holiday with my family. No, it was almost always just me and my mom. I do need to reach out to my tia Angelica and my cousin Pilar who were very supportive of my mom and me. I mean, we had a connection to them in particular even though lots of members of my family were incredibly supportive.
Maybe i'm an ingrate, like Tia Beatriz calls me. I HATE that word. I already told her not to use it but she's an old lady and i can't change her. She also called me in a panic yesterday because she's leaving for Ecuador next week and has lots of last minute packing and preparing to do. It was 8:30 pm and she needed me to come over and help her. I do want to help her, and i promised to go tomorrow. I guess in between seeing a play with Koji and going to Jes' to watch The Golden Globes. Then i'll go to Long Island on Monday and spend the whole day there.
I felt guilty telling Tia Emilia that i have an Eddie Izzard concert tonight at MSG (tickets i bought in October!) and another event tomorrow. She said that she told the family in Colombia that i'm fine, that i seem to be fine and that i have fun. So, and we talk about this in Fight Club, part of me wants to make sure people know i am in pain. Even if they see me laugh or if i go to a show or a party, that doesn't mean i'm not sad or grieving or a mess on some levels. Why do we care that people know this or not? It won't make me feel better. I think it's because it's important to acknowledge that the loss of my mother is devastating. Not just the day she died, or the month after or for the first year. Always. And even when life goes on, that fact still remains.
I don't want to have to tell Tia that i do fun things to make myself laugh, to forget my sadness, to distract myself from the dark times. I don't want to feel like i HAVE to explain myself. But i also know i don't want her to think that i don't care about my mother anymore and that i'm just out there having fun, and forgetting about my family.
Also, just because i don't want to go to Colombia doesn't mean i don't love my family. I don't want to go. I don't want to force myself to do it when i don't want to.
I also need to remind myself that Tia Emilia is a master of the guilt trip and is also the best exaggerater i know. She blows things out of proportion and is melodramatic a lot of the time. I love her immensely but there's something about her, whether she's criticizing the way i look or the things i do, that just brings me down. I guess not that different from my relationship with my mom. She made me feel great and me feel bad.
I feel C-R-A-P-P-Y today. I'm avoiding the Haiti news.
Oh, please let this be really bad PMS. I think part of it must be that. It gets me pretty bad. I guess i just get more sensitive around this time.
Good thing i have a comedy concert tonight to help me fill my laughter quota.
I really feel right now like i don't want to leave my apartment. I don't want to be in daylight or around people. I used my lightbox for 2 hours today. I need to do laundry so badly. I need to buy a dryer.
I'm resisting binging to make myself feel better. I've eaten healthy today so far.
I can't even think of any junk food that would entice me right now.
Monday, January 11, 2010
When Jenna and i met last Monday to go see "A Single Man," she told me a story about going to the Apple store to get a new battery for her iPod recently(i think it was for a battery). The guy who helped her said it was just easier to give her a new (old) iPod instead of a new battery. So the guy apparently read from his computer screen that this iPod had been purchased in January 2006. He complimented her saying that this iPod was in good shape for being that old. Well, Jenna thought it silly of her, but she remembered that her mom had purchased it as her birthday present and also got her the gear in which to hold the iPod and keep it in such "good shape". She told me that she had to fight back the tears in the middle of the Apple store and she sort of felt that was silly, or maybe a disproportionate reaction to the situation. I told her i understood and that it wasn't a small deal. That's what our life will be like every day from now on. Memory triggers all around. Like Sara told me last night, they do live on in us and in our everyday lives as we remember them.
I just heard this song and, as has been my experience lately, i thought, my mom was alive when i first enjoyed this song. This song now represents my living mother.
I just heard this song and, as has been my experience lately, i thought, my mom was alive when i first enjoyed this song. This song now represents my living mother.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Jenna told us this story last night.
She sat down on her couch and said aloud, "I'm sad." And Mike asked, "why are you sad?" Jenna responded, "I'm sad 95% of the time. Even when i'm happy i'm sad."
And that sums it up perfectly.
Dr. Hirsh thought i didn't cry enough today. I'll just have to make up my quota at another time.
She sat down on her couch and said aloud, "I'm sad." And Mike asked, "why are you sad?" Jenna responded, "I'm sad 95% of the time. Even when i'm happy i'm sad."
And that sums it up perfectly.
Dr. Hirsh thought i didn't cry enough today. I'll just have to make up my quota at another time.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Hello Twenty-ten.
oh my, look at all these welts. My birdie bit the shit out of me. She got angry when i was on the phone with my tia. Heehee. I love her so i find it endearing.
I had a really great dream with my mom last night, at Jes' apartment. I spent the night on her couch, after we watched the ball drop and then watched some episodes of Sex and the City. I slept very comfortably and, most importantly, warmly. I dreamt that my mom and i were in a costume store and Vicky from Barnes & Noble was there and maybe some other old coworkers from various jobs. But they were taking a big group picture of people in costumes and i put my mom in an ivory, off the shoulder dress or long blouse and put her up front, next to David Nellis, and i didn't get a chance to dress up so i ducked down behind the shelves, with all the other un-costumed people and i watched my mom from behind one of the shelves and she was laughing with David and they were pretending to toast with martini glasses and my mom was so cute and i thought to myself, i'll have a great photo to remember her by. I was also pleased that David seemed to be enjoying my mom. It was like i knew she was going to die. I found an "Annie" (like the movie musical) costume to wear but never got a chance to actually put it on. Before this scenario, i think, we were in the store and some tall, menacing looking guys walked in, like a gang or something but dressed like members of KISS and i grabbed my mom's hand and walked toward the back of the store (really high ceilings, like a warehouse or loft) to get away from this potential trouble. But then it ended up being okay, i guess, since it turned into a photo op. This was triggered by the actual photo session we had at work on Thursday, where Freddie made us all wear 2010 foam crowns on our heads.
The next dream was about me being at a pool of some sort and being in a one piece bathing suit and getting into the water despite people warning me not to. But i got in and it was warm and felt great and i was happy. And i felt distinctly surprised that i was so happy and comfortable. As i was awakening and trying to record the memory of the dream, i felt like i was watching my mother in the water but i knew it was me. Like i was playing her or something, because she was the one who loved the water, and who is wearing one piece bathing suits in all those photos from her youth.
I woke up feeling like my mother was with me.
I cried a lot when i got home from work yesterday. Hard. Eventually it subsided and i fell asleep. I forced myself to get up and eat something and i had to get ready to go to Jes' apt. I guess i got there a little bit before 11pm. I was really glad to spend the night with her. I knew she would want to lay low after such a horrible experience of being mugged at gunpoint the night before. Unbelievable. Thank God nothing happened to her other than getting her purse stolen. I'm lucky to have Jes and i love that we can sit on the couch and watch tv and just be there for each other. She's just about my only New Year's Eve tradition. I had thought that i'd make noise and be sparkly this year, celebrate in memory of my mom's party spirit. But that's because i didn't count on feeling so horribly wretchedly sad. Just watching tv was exactly how i needed it to be.
As i was leaving my apartment last night, i looked at the calendar on the door and realized that it was still turned to October. So i turned to the December page, just to finish off the year right, and i was overtaken by pain, thinking that my mom saw this calendar begin, but she never saw it end. This calendar outlived my mom. Fucking sucks.
And i realized very loudly, intensely, angrily, that it really gets worse. The loss and grief get worse with every month that goes by. I can only have faith that in the long run, however long that is, it gets better.
I have no wishes for twenty ten. Well, no more deaths. Please.
oh my, look at all these welts. My birdie bit the shit out of me. She got angry when i was on the phone with my tia. Heehee. I love her so i find it endearing.
I had a really great dream with my mom last night, at Jes' apartment. I spent the night on her couch, after we watched the ball drop and then watched some episodes of Sex and the City. I slept very comfortably and, most importantly, warmly. I dreamt that my mom and i were in a costume store and Vicky from Barnes & Noble was there and maybe some other old coworkers from various jobs. But they were taking a big group picture of people in costumes and i put my mom in an ivory, off the shoulder dress or long blouse and put her up front, next to David Nellis, and i didn't get a chance to dress up so i ducked down behind the shelves, with all the other un-costumed people and i watched my mom from behind one of the shelves and she was laughing with David and they were pretending to toast with martini glasses and my mom was so cute and i thought to myself, i'll have a great photo to remember her by. I was also pleased that David seemed to be enjoying my mom. It was like i knew she was going to die. I found an "Annie" (like the movie musical) costume to wear but never got a chance to actually put it on. Before this scenario, i think, we were in the store and some tall, menacing looking guys walked in, like a gang or something but dressed like members of KISS and i grabbed my mom's hand and walked toward the back of the store (really high ceilings, like a warehouse or loft) to get away from this potential trouble. But then it ended up being okay, i guess, since it turned into a photo op. This was triggered by the actual photo session we had at work on Thursday, where Freddie made us all wear 2010 foam crowns on our heads.
The next dream was about me being at a pool of some sort and being in a one piece bathing suit and getting into the water despite people warning me not to. But i got in and it was warm and felt great and i was happy. And i felt distinctly surprised that i was so happy and comfortable. As i was awakening and trying to record the memory of the dream, i felt like i was watching my mother in the water but i knew it was me. Like i was playing her or something, because she was the one who loved the water, and who is wearing one piece bathing suits in all those photos from her youth.
I woke up feeling like my mother was with me.
I cried a lot when i got home from work yesterday. Hard. Eventually it subsided and i fell asleep. I forced myself to get up and eat something and i had to get ready to go to Jes' apt. I guess i got there a little bit before 11pm. I was really glad to spend the night with her. I knew she would want to lay low after such a horrible experience of being mugged at gunpoint the night before. Unbelievable. Thank God nothing happened to her other than getting her purse stolen. I'm lucky to have Jes and i love that we can sit on the couch and watch tv and just be there for each other. She's just about my only New Year's Eve tradition. I had thought that i'd make noise and be sparkly this year, celebrate in memory of my mom's party spirit. But that's because i didn't count on feeling so horribly wretchedly sad. Just watching tv was exactly how i needed it to be.
As i was leaving my apartment last night, i looked at the calendar on the door and realized that it was still turned to October. So i turned to the December page, just to finish off the year right, and i was overtaken by pain, thinking that my mom saw this calendar begin, but she never saw it end. This calendar outlived my mom. Fucking sucks.
And i realized very loudly, intensely, angrily, that it really gets worse. The loss and grief get worse with every month that goes by. I can only have faith that in the long run, however long that is, it gets better.
I have no wishes for twenty ten. Well, no more deaths. Please.
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