A random, eclectic mix of thoughts, feelings, observations, and experiences – LIFE

Posts tagged ‘emotions’

Therapy Post

Never too many flowers for Grammy. The wreaths completely covered her grave. But we'll keep her memory uncovered. Never to be forgotten.

It’s been a while, I know. I’ve had quite a rough time. I would like for it to end. I really thought that Saturday would bring it to a close, and I would go to sleep, and magically, on Sunday morning, all would be right with the world. No.such.luck. I woke up, yes. But nothing was right. I felt out of it. I still had a killer headache. I curled up on the couch and just slept. I read a little, but mostly? I just slept. I woke up when it was past the time that I should have been on the road, on my way to the weekly FamJam. I refused to be early. I didn’t want anyone to talk about it.

I didn’t want to hear how beautiful the service was. I didn’t want anyone to mention how “good” she looked. How good could she look, laying in a box? I mean, there’s no denying that she was a beautiful woman. Beyond beautiful. But don’t insult me. Or her. Don’t say she looked good, laying there, dead, in a really expensive, beautiful box. No. I don’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to hear people tease about how my mother went up with her twin brother to read a responsive prayer, but didn’t actually read anything. I didn’t want anyone to jest about anything. It was a funeral. It was somber. It was a rough time for everyone. There is really no need to rehash it.

I didn’t want anyone to comment on the fact that a lot of dignitaries were present. My uncle is kind of a big deal here, so yes, ministers of the gospel and ministers of government departments were there. I didn’t want people to say how good the Prime Minister looked for a change. Or how nice it was for the Deputy Prime Minister to attend, although he was on crutches. Or how the political divide was absent as the leader of the Opposition was also there. I didn’t want anyone to go on and on about how respected my uncle must be, to have so many people in their uniforms there, in support of him. Or my sister’s coworkers who were also there in a large number, uniformed. Or my mother’s friends who were not in uniform, but were there, nonetheless. They were there to help me from the graveside to the car. To tell me that things would be okay. To remind me to be strong for my mother. To give warm hugs. To assure me that I could call them any time. How kind, to be there for her, and for me too. How kind. What true friends.

I wanted to hear no talk of the beautiful solos. That lady really sang. She saaang. Like there would be no tomorrow. The words she sand penetrated my body, and seemed to fight to get out of my system, but they were trapped, and my body shook. I didn’t want anyone to bring it to my recollection. I didn’t want to think about it, or experience it again. The way I cried with no control. I didn’t want to hear, even in my mind’s ear, the sounds that escaped my mouth. Knowing that I’ve never cried like that before. Not at a funeral. I’m accustomed to crying quietly. No one around me would ever know I was crying unless they saw my tear-stained face. But not that day. That day, people saw the vibrations of pain and grief move my body, beyond my control. People heard the sounds of anguish and struggle exit my mouth, surprising even me. When that lady sang the second solo, I could have curled up and died. Great is thy faithfulness? Who’s faithfulness? Who was more faithful than my Grammy? WHO?! GOD?! God has been faithful in watching and letting us suffer through her illness with her, and taking her away from us, leaving us to continue to suffer without her. Yes, she’s out of it now. But only after immense pain. Maybe she was holding on for us? I don’t know… Maybe His faithfulness is great. I just know that hearing her sing about it… It was almost too much for me to take. I saw my mother, two rows ahead of me, shake, similar to the way that I shook. I saw my father wipe his face with a handkerchief. I remembered that Great is Thy Faithfulness was my grandfather’s (his father’s) favourite song. A priest sang it at his funeral. And the church became a forest of waterfalls.

I didn’t want to fall victim to looks of pity. Or questions like, “How are you doing?” Especially knowing that it was written on my face. My swollen, red eyes told the story of my day. My constant squinting was evidence of the seemingly eternal headache. My tight mouth was an indication of the fight I was in, against myself, to keep from crying. My nose, red and chapped… My hair, unkempt. My dress, unthought of. My legs, unlotioned. How was I doing? As well as a pauper on the street, perhaps?

For all those reasons and more, I refused to go early. I ate in a rush and left the table. Avoiding all conversation. All questions. All eyes. I left. I curled myself up on the couch, and mindlessly watched television. Dragons Den came on. I was pleased. Something that I could watch with the right amount of thoughtfulness and the right amount of thoughtlessness. I watched two episodes. Then there was nothing. I moved into the room without a television. I curled up on the couch with my new nook and read a little. My mother’s friends came to visit her. How nice! I wondered to myself, Will I ever have friends like hers? (Can you tell? I don’t have many friends. At all. There are just a few. I figure I have a lot of family, so no need to pile my life up with useless people. I choose friends carefully.) They drove all this way (my great-grandmother’s house is rather far) to come and see her. They brought her one of those giant greeting cards. Everyone from work signed it, along with nice little messages, telling her they missed her, and hoped to see her back to work soon, and that she needed to get well soon. (This card was not one of sympathy, but a Get Well Soon card, from she was out sick.) Along with the card came a letter-sized envelope. Cash. They took up a collection. I didn’t count it, and at the point, I don’t think she had either. Maybe they told her how much it was. After greeting them, I didn’t pay attention to their conversation. But I’m sure it’s enough to cover her next round of medication. Blessings. Finally. A reason to smile. A little less stress for her. And for me.

I was ready to go home long before it was time. I left my laundry in the washer. I couldn’t take it any more. I was ready.to.go. I got about halfway home before the tears started coming. I found myself intrigued by the way the tears dripped and dropped. Down the sides of my nose, around my mouth, and then DROP. Right onto my chest. They didn’t roll down my chin, down my neck to my chest. They just dropped. Like a jumper off of a cliff. That’s the way I wished my emotions would act. Just jump off of a cliff, never to be seen again. Over the edge, to the point of no return. Instead, they stuck around. Possibly driving me to the edge. Lord knows that if I take the plunge, there won’t be any return. I see the edge. It’s in sight. But I just.can’t.go.there. There would be no turning back.

I hope everyone is having a great week so far. I’m working at keeping busy. Lots going on at work. I haven’t been able to read any blogs. WP wouldn’t let them load. Lots of catching up to do. Those of you who miss my comments, I have not abandoned or unfollowed you. WP has been punishing me. I’ll be back. If you’ve seen any cool/fun/funny posts that I may have missed, please leave links. I could really use some good reads for my spare time. Many thanks!

Crazy

Day 27 – What’s the best thing going for you right now?

Why is this so hard? Maybe because it’s kind of vague. I’ve had this tab open for hours. The best thing going for me definitely isn’t my decisiveness right now. Lol. I AM decisive though. Just saying.

The best thing going for me… Hmmm… Let’s go with something super generic (because my brain is lazy right now) and say PERSONALITY! WOO!

I should probably zero in on something a bit more specific. My feathers (I’m a peacock, P.S.) aren’t easily ruffled. I have a pretty quiet spirit, and usually appear to be very calm, controlled, and at peace. Particularly at work. I leave my home life at home. I don’t bring personal issues with me. I don’t take work home with me. The two are separate and apart. Things may happen at home that frustrate me, but when I get to work, I’m sort of a different person. It’s the same deal the other way around. I make a special effort not to beat anyone with the stick of another person. Everyone gets beaten with their own stick around here!

Blaaah. Nothing else to say on this one.

On another note, I had a small breakdown last night. I’ve recently been stuck taking the yucky stinky bus to and from work. 😦 😦 😦 😦 😦 Yeah, that’s how sad it makes me. I thought I was coping well. Not really. I hate it. Hate it, hate it, hate it. My bicycle is still at the old place. Hopefully, we can move it tomorrow evening. THEN, I’ll have to figure out how to make it all the way to work in all the work/school traffic and avoid the highway.

Anyway, more on how much I hate the bus and why, and the route I’ll have to take later. In another post. On to my breakdown. Yesterday wasn’t too bad. I worked at this job I really dislike, but whatever. I walked downtown (25 minutes) to get the bus. For a change, it was actually there. It was full. It stayed full. It was gross. I got home, and Babe was there to greet me. I held my hands out and said, “Don’t touch me!” before the warm embrace could happen. I stripped and went in the shower. Except the water was cold. I said the-f-word. Yes, I did. SO unlike me. I usually cop out and say, “Eff,” or “Flick,” or something like that. Not yesterday evening. I said THE f-word. ENUNCIATED it. I mean, with power. Not loudly, but with power. You know when the “CK” has the extra something? It was like “Fah cryin’ out loud.” Without the “ryin’ out loud” part. Yeah. It was bad.

I flipped the heater switch and sat on the commode, bent forward so my head was between my legs, and did something. I don’t know. Maybe I cried a little? No. I think I mumbled to myself or something. Sighed a lot. Finally, I figured the water would be hot enough, so I went in the shower. I got in, and started to calm down. Eyes closed and everything. Then, it felt really hot. I opened my eyes and looked around. The bathroom door was closed. Babe closed the door! I was pissed. It seems ridiculous, I know, but I WAS. WHY close the door?! Yes, I hear you in there trying to lay down some tracks or demo songs or whatever, but why did you close the door?! Don’t you know it’s HOT in here?! Then I realized that the window wasn’t even open. I started to open it, but it was too hard for me to do because the window operator was kind of stuck between the blinds or something. This is all very melodramatic, I know. I cried. I quickly got clean, got out of the shower, opened the door, and went into the spare room. I took down the blow-up mattress and laid my towelled self onto it. I stayed there until Babe said it was time to eat. Since we needed walls and doors between us, and my crying and moaning probably wouldn’t have been good for the recording or whatever was going on. I did it for Babe. And for me. As a take-THAT in response to the closed door.

It’s weird. I know why the door was closed. I understood it. I still resented it. It was like a wall between us or something. When I needed closeness. But only AFTER a shower. I was annoyed that I wasn’t considered in the decision (yes, this is ridiculous) to close the door. The heat was not considered. THIS added to the fact that the water was not preheated for me, in anticipation of my need for a shower upon my arrival. And I rode the STINKING BUS. YUCK. And I haven’t cycled in over a week.

I know it’s all crazy. I was like a spoiled brat. It was awful. And it made me more upset/annoyed at myself/and cry more knowing that I was being ridiculous. And knowing that none of this was Babe’s fault. But poor Babe was sucked into it. I never talked about it. I didn’t say how I felt about the door (because I knew it was stupid – lol), and I didn’t say why I went into the other room. I just left it. No questions were asked. I wonder if it was noticed. Probably. I was horrible. Veryunspeaking, uninteresting, and unresponsive. I feel terrible about it. If we had gas, I would bake Babe a cake.

I’m not a crazy person. I’m really not. I just have these crazy moments every few months or something. Funny that this happened after yesterday’s post though, right?

Has one little thing ever set you off on some crazy emotional thingy? Ever known that you were being ridiculous WHILE you were being ridiculous? How do you get yourself to be rational when all you want to do is be irrational and find a reason to be annoyed with someone? (I’m dying laughing at the last question. I’m crazy. I lied.)

Expect the Unexpected (via Maggie Mae’s Days)

LOVE this. Had to share it.

Expect the Unexpected I know I've heard many a person say, "You never know what to expect".  Time and time again I've heard those words or uttered them myself in relation to various situations, circumstances and events. This has always held true in my personal experiences in life so far… Just when you think you know, you find out in reality you really have no idea… But you see, life always has a way of changing on ya… the path in the road winding in a different … Read More

via Maggie Mae's Days