I haven’t had the will to write in quite a while now. I have been lost and unable to find my pen. While I still have not found that metaphorical pen, I happen to have stumbled on a piece of chalk that I will use to get out some thoughts.
I had one of the best counseling session yesterday. It was a little sad that the counselor assigned to me is moving on from the hospice organization to a new opportunity, so yesterday was our last session together. Next week I will be seeing someone new. During our final visit, she helped me to figure out one of the things weighing most on my mind. She encouraged me to find a way to break through that barrier. I hope that I can succeed quickly at this.
Writing has always been an outlet for me. I have been able to tell a piece of paper (or a computer screen) things that were a burden. I felt better when I could express myself and since I am more solitary by nature, paper makes for a great listening partner. A bit one-sided were our conversations, but that didn’t matter much as I was the one who wanted to do all the talking anyway. Writing was also something that I didn’t feel bad at. It helped that no matter what I wrote, my mother would tell me how great it was. I am sure that she took some motherly liberty in her praise and that some of it were little white lies, but it made me feel good all the same. This is the problem I have been having. I have avoided writing because I knew that my mother would never again read something I wrote and tell me how much she liked it. It makes me incredibly sad just to think about that. I have to think about it though and I have to somehow be okay with the notion that she isn’t here to tell me wonderful things. Deep down I know that she truly loved the way I wrote and I realize that she would want me to continue writing. It has just been difficult.
The difficulty isn’t just that she won’t read what I have written. I mean, heck, she never did read this blog. She just couldn’t bring herself to do that I guess. There is also the lack of ideas, or at least ideas that I find interesting enough to write about. When I am not focused on something in particular, my thoughts are consumed with remembering my parents and the feeling of loss now that they are gone. While I would normally write about those feelings, there is a part of me that is ashamed that after three months without mom and 8 months without dad, that I am still feeling sad. Putting those feelings down in this more public setting seemed embarrassing and pathetic. So I have avoided the task altogether.
Another discovery through counseling is that I am seeing a link between some of the feeling I have had. For instance, it’s not all about sadness. There is anger towards my mother. I am upset with her that she didn’t write the letters she wanted to write to her children. I understand why she didn’t, but I would really like to tell her that I need that letter. I will never have another conversation with my mother and that letter could have been a substitute for the conversation that I need. I want to talk with her. I want her to tell me things. I told my counselor that I blame the movies for putting this fantasy in my head that I could always have that something to go back to when I was missing her. So not only do I miss her, but I am also missing that something that would be comfort when I am missing her. A bit of a convoluted thought I know, but that is how my mind works. I just want that something that will reassure me that I did a good job helping her when she needed it. That I was a good son despite the short comings I have and the mistakes I made. I want that something personal where she reminds me that I was loved. Yes, of course these are things I know, but they are also things we like to hear from time to time. I don’t have what I want and I have to find peace with it.
So, here I am, tears running down my cheeks and forcing myself write about these feelings. I don’t know yet that I feel better, but that might just be due to the crying headache that I know have masking any other feelings. I now just have to force myself to pull up her address book and send out Christmas cards to people. I know that she would have already done that by now, but I just haven’t been able to bring myself to do certain things. Especially Christmas related things. This Christmas is proving to be very difficult and I would like for it to just come another time, when I am more ready for it 🙂
In more positive news, you may recall that shortly before my mother passed away, I had a little episode with Atrial Fibrillation that send me to the emergency room. I recently had a stress echo done and got the results yesterday. Fit as a fiddle. No medical problems with the ol’ ticker. So for now we just monitor things and see if I have any more episodes. The doctor said that there is no medical reason for the Afib and that it was likely caused by stress. Seems strange though, not sure what I have to stress about, ahahaha.