Behind These Sunglasses

Is it alright if I wear my grief behind these sunglasses? It's not that I'm trying to hide anything from you. It's just that this pain is so sharp and so raw that I feel that I will disintegrate or break in two if you look through me. I'm not hiding anything behind these sunglasses, other than the saddest eyes you've ever seen. It's not that I'm too proud to let you look at me, it's just that I don't want to spread this pain around.

And maybe I need a little privacy. I don't seem to have any control these days on when the overwhelming tidal wave of pain will rise...and sometimes I might be in front of you at the check-out counter. You're just trying to do your job; you don't need to see my mess.

Inside my tearful downcast eyes, I'm asking for help carrying all this pain. I'm asking for you to convince me that I deserve more than my own hateful thoughts and propensities. I'm asking for my Mom to come back and hold me and guide me. I'm asking for the impossible...I know. That's why it hurts so profoundly. And I feel like just one heartbroken and despairing look from me would be enough to send you running...and I suspect you would prefer to go on about your life the way you are...plus I already feel abandoned.

So would it be alright if I wore my grief behind these sunglasses?

The Loss of my Mother and the Lack of my Father

How could I grieve both the loss of my Mother and the lack of my father? I don't want to replace her with him...EVER. It's not him that I miss, it's the lack of him that I grieve...feeling thoroughly alone by the leave of my Mother. And even though he lives, I hardly want to fill her vacuum with him.

Yet he started calling after she left me. Landing himself in the hospital...in and out...and calling me...as if...am I supposed to fill the space of caring for Mom by caring for him? I don't want to. Is it bad? Am I mean?

No...I'm hurting.

The Dark Morning

To wake up in the morning and think about how I will hurt myself is pretty sad. To get out of bed and act on it is even lower. But I'm not here to judge myself or beat myself up. I've done enough of that.

The pain is still there, and that is where I'm putting it. I'm in cutting mode, and it's hard to  just switch off of it, I know I will...eventually. I'm writing...trying to find a different place to hold the pain.

What Do I Do with All This Pain?

**Self-Harm Trigger Warning...Do not read this post if you struggle with self-harm**

What do I do with all this pain? Where do I put it? Cutting fits it neatly into little straight lines. When I cut, it has a place to go. For a moment, it goes into the breath I take and the gasp I make when I feel the cut. The breath and the gasp hold the pain for a moment, taking the burden of its weight away from me...for just a moment...I can breathe.

My mind is buzzing with the sensation of the sharp little blade moving across my skin, and there is no room for thoughts...thoughts of wanting Mom, thoughts of loneliness and emptiness, thoughts of self-hate and inadequacies. I only focus on one blade making one cut...and the electrifying sensation that it brings...for a moment...and after the moment is over, I make another cut. It is so sad.

Losing Mom

I wake up feeling lost. Mom is gone, and...and what? Nothing is right. There is no more true real joy. If I get close to that feeling, I immediately want to share it with Mom. When I realize that I can't, the joy quickly leaves me.

It was too soon. Some people lose their mothers when they are children. For others, their mothers live well into their 90s and even 100s. I imagine that no matter when one loses one's mother, it will always be too soon. But she was 71 and I had not turned 50 yet, and I deem that it was too soon. I had not yet gotten to the time in my life when I could just drop in for the weekend and spend time with her. None of her grandchildren had been married yet. There were no great-grandchildren. There was so much more adulthood still left to do with her.

So sadness overwhelms me. Too much to reach out. And I tried to self-soothe...crossing my arms across my chest, patting my shoulders, envisioning my safe place...and then I realized that my mind has now brought her into my safe place. She is there waiting to embrace me and keep me safe...and then I can't. I can't pat my shoulders, I can't go to her, and I just cry and feel lost and empty.