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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.