I am supposed to be on a writers retreat in Tanzania, Africa right now. In the dark of night while scrolling the portal for my writers group, our leader, Joy, announced this trip. I had immediate thoughts of mom who was always pushing me towards adventure. I had visions of myself in beige safari outfits staring wistfully onto the open vistas writing about my grief. Finding myself amongst quiet and nature, finally able to wrestle this loss to the ground like a lioness felling her prey. I have actually been to Africa before, so I know how it feels. I signed up, hopeful my transformation would begin that moment. That it would turn back time, start me on the trajectory towards myself. Unfortunately, grief, trauma and the resulting PTSD don’t work like that. There’s no memo that gets sent to your struggling brain to switch on to something more functional. Since I am not halfway across the world, you can surmise none of that happened.
Before fall, or B.F., as I like to call it, I was quite a different person. Mom had a catastrophic fall on July 2, 2016 that created ripples until the end of her life. She never quite recovered. B.F., I would come to visit, we would go shopping, to the movies, just hang out. There were plenty of low key adventures. We even had an amazing trip to the Grand Canyon in 2011. I was active, healthy and engaged in a full life. I traveled, I took photos daily, I was really living. I have a bad back from a work injury some years back, but I was good at managing the daily pain. I’ve always had anxiety, but that runs in my family. I was happy-ish and hopeful. All of that changed in an instant. I threw all of my time and energy into mom. I drove her everywhere, managed all of her medical care, threw any extra worry I had towards her. I was working a very demanding, stressful job while trying to be a wife, a friend, a person. That left zero time for me. I didn’t eat right, manage my arthritis, or sleep for years. I doubled down because I felt like this is what a good daughter, a good girl, does for their sick mom.
The truth is I am wrecked after those long years. Mentally and physically. I can’t walk more than 200 feet without pain. Completing even basic tasks these days saps all of my energy. I am sadder than I have ever been. I am not telling anyone this for sympathy. I need to say it out loud. I need to face it, look it in the mirror, dissect it, start putting the pieces back together. I would not have been able to be present on a trip halfway across the world when I am struggling so much here. There was a lot more to the decision to stay home. Seeing the trip on social media has been hard, but it’s funny how your body knows what is right for you. I don’t see an empty space where I should have been. I see that the choice to stay home was the right one.
There are good things about grieving your old selves. You get to leave behind what no longer serves you. There are people I had in my life for a long time that showed me who they were, and they let themselves out of my life. I have found new, great friends and a writing community who have saved my life. I have dug deep in therapy, I have my hands over the edge, about to push myself up and out of this chasm. I used to have what a former therapist called Doormat Syndrome. I do not anymore. I know longer put up with shit like I did, and I know now to trust my gut as soon as things don’t feel right. I am worthy of real love and respect. I never believed that before. The path here has been arduous, but worth the struggles. The work has already begun to transform this lost little girl into a woman who deserves to take up space in the world.
Glimmers
Seeing Mike open his birthday present today and love it. I love giving gifts. He instantly put his classic Stanley thermos to work with tea.
Is there anything better than the smell of chocolate chip cookies baking? I make pretty good ones, so I baked a batch for Mike, and the house smells like love and cookie dough.
I am falling in love with photography again. I have been writing down ideas for my 12 months of film project. This feels so nice to be engaged in something I love so much.
I booked rooms for our March road trip to the Grand Canyon. We are going to go for mom’s birthday this year so that I can spread some of her ashes there. Mike has never been and I cannot wait for him to see the magic.
I have been reading again. One of the things I lost concentration for while mom was sick was reading, and I was an avid reader. Starting slowly at bedtime, hoping to be able to read more soon enough.
I started functional fitness workout personal training last week. So many sore muscles, but this will help me build a new, stronger foundation for this second half of life.
Admiration all around, my friend.
I love you, Nicole. <3