I hate this day. It's the day my mom died. Or the date anyway. I tell myself, today is not that day. That day happened a long time ago. Seventeen years ago now. Today is a different day, in 2013 and I am a grown woman living in Saugerties, NY with a husband and a son. But I don't like this day either. Nothing about it feels right. Nothing about me feels right. Trying to feel right when you don't is exhausting. It's like that old saying about trying to stop a wave from coming ashore. I can stand and fight the wave and end up cold and wet and exhausted. Or sit on the shore and let the waves come and go. Just cold and wet, instead of exhausted. Somehow this is still tiring though. One may ask, "Why don't you get off the beach?" And to them I say, "Fuck you, You get off the beach."
I don't know why I end up here every year and I have not been able to analyze some sense out of it. The best I got is that I loved my mother very much, she died too young, the way she died was scary for me at that age, and I miss her. I want her back. I want my fucking mother. And it doesn't matter. She's not coming back.
I have been walking around thinking, "I am SO uncomfortable." My skin feels wrong, my mind feels wrong, everything looks wrong. Last night as I lie in bed, I realized that discomfort is actually anger. I'm so angry. I want to tear my house down with my fists and my feet. I want to dig a hole in the dirt with my hands and bury myself in it. That sounds sort of extreme and I probably don't actually want to do those things but thinking about them feels just about right.
What am I angry about? I don't know. Maybe at myself for still feeling like this. Maybe because my mom is not here. Maybe because I can't time travel. I don't think about it too much. Mostly I am just trying to let myself feel whatever it is I'm feeling, not dwell on it and keep walking forward. I try to think of things I could do to feel better. Nothing comes to mind.
Let this pass, let this be done. Let it be February. Let January not come back.
Maybe next year I should come up with a new January protocol. I have a year to think about it.
It seemed stupid not to say anything this year. And it also seems stupid to say something. Everything feels wrong. The good news is, this will pass. And I'm not the only person who has lost someone close to them. I am not crazy. I am not crazy. I am not crazy.
I don't know why I end up here every year and I have not been able to analyze some sense out of it. The best I got is that I loved my mother very much, she died too young, the way she died was scary for me at that age, and I miss her. I want her back. I want my fucking mother. And it doesn't matter. She's not coming back.
I have been walking around thinking, "I am SO uncomfortable." My skin feels wrong, my mind feels wrong, everything looks wrong. Last night as I lie in bed, I realized that discomfort is actually anger. I'm so angry. I want to tear my house down with my fists and my feet. I want to dig a hole in the dirt with my hands and bury myself in it. That sounds sort of extreme and I probably don't actually want to do those things but thinking about them feels just about right.
What am I angry about? I don't know. Maybe at myself for still feeling like this. Maybe because my mom is not here. Maybe because I can't time travel. I don't think about it too much. Mostly I am just trying to let myself feel whatever it is I'm feeling, not dwell on it and keep walking forward. I try to think of things I could do to feel better. Nothing comes to mind.
Let this pass, let this be done. Let it be February. Let January not come back.
Maybe next year I should come up with a new January protocol. I have a year to think about it.
It seemed stupid not to say anything this year. And it also seems stupid to say something. Everything feels wrong. The good news is, this will pass. And I'm not the only person who has lost someone close to them. I am not crazy. I am not crazy. I am not crazy.
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