And with more Death, She returns

My dad died.

9/16/2020.  It would have been my parents 42nd Wedding Anniversary.  I don't think that's a coincidence.

It's different this time.  Worse in a lot of ways because it was sudden - an accident; but better in some because I think that he and mom will be together.

Worse because I still had so many things to say, to do, and to work out between us.  Dad wasn't always nice, especially as he got older.  Some of the things that he said and did growing up weren't exactly shining examples of perfect parenthood.  But... he was dad.  My therapist tells me, "That person is doing the best they can, with what they have".  Dad did that.

I'm not really sure what to do at this point.  The bulk of my adult life has been helping him care for mom, and then making sure he was ok.  Who am I now? An adult orphan.  

We had a dumpster dropped off, so that we could start getting rid of stuff.  Dad had like 4 of everything.  It got particularly bad after mom died.  I understand the psychology - it was a thing he COULD control in a world where he had very little control.  That doesn't make cleaning it up any easier.

Patience, please. I'm fucking things up as fast as I can.

I stopped blogging. I stopped because I felt like I couldn't be honest anymore.

I'm always honest, at least about myself. The problem is that sometimes my story intersects with other people and situations.

"If I write about how X made me feel, then Person A will be upset/sad/anxious/worried/angry/embarrassed."

How do you separate? I'm still not great at it.

So. I am in the midst of a fairly terrible bout of depression. I don't talk about it. Very rarely. Who wants to hear that? And really, what is there to say? I am sad, a lot. I cry way more than I let on. Over stupid shit - like not being invited to something with friends (because apparently depression brain is 12), or over the fact that I can't do some move I've learned in Krav perfect, immediately after learning it. I cry because I am broke - or because the dude in the grocery store bagging my stuff looked at me funny.

This doesn't happen every day - not even every week.  So don't go freaking out thinking I've lost my mind.  Just often enough to be annoying. Typically right after I've convinced myself that: Hey! I am Ok!!!

It's a catch fucking twenty two because you want people to know - hey, I'm going through a thing - but you don't want all the side eye "is she ok"s, or people freaking out and treating you differently, or even asking a bunch of questions that you can't answer.

"What's up? Why are you down?"

I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA.

I just am. It is what it is. It comes and goes. It's gotten a little worse since I quit smoking. I have no fucking idea.

I do know that it gets exponentially worse when I spend more time on social media.

Let's think about that for a second. Hrm... Yep, people all the world over are absofuckinglutely shitty to each other and we all congregate online. That's also a catch 22. Want to talk to folks, or be involved in something, and bam - shitty people. Hard pass.

It's cooling off. Some. I guess I gotta double down on myself, and seriously stay away from social media stuff in the evening, on the weekends. Haul my fat ass to the track, or the trail. Hopefully?

I dunno. I see it. I'm working on it. Just don't give up on me. Be patient. I'm trying to as well.

May, you motherfucker.

*waves*  Hiya.  Yeah, it's been another couple of months.  I'm not entirely certain that blogging once every couple of months is helpful at all - but what the hell, right?  Certainly can't hurt.

I'm still trying to transition more away from FB.  It's hard.  I've not done a good job of it.  So there you go - one small failure, documented.

Oi vay.  Yeah, I know - but hey, let's go ahead and set the tone right for this shite!  It's MAY!

That's right.  May.  My birthday is tomorrow.  May 4th.  May the 4th be with you.  You'll never forget it - Star Wars Day, etc.  I have always been a birthday person.  I have enjoyed celebrating my own, and other people's.  I mean - birthday weeks, cards, gifts, cake - what's not to like?

Except May also has mom's birthday.  And mother's day.  And my friend Ian's birthday (and he just died).  So.  Yeah.  May.  I want to enjoy you.  I want to be able to be as silly as I used to be, and have ridiculous shenanigans and smiles and laughter and it's my birthday nonsense.

I just can't.  I'm trying.  I actually made a plan to go out for my birthday, invited damn near every person I know.  I have considered canceling the whole thing since then.  I'm not going to.  I figure if I need to leave, I will.

I keep thinking this is the hour/day/week/month/year that I can be like, "Oh hey, I'm good now!" in regards to ninja grief.  Every damn time, I'm wrong though.

So hey - sorry I'm weird this month.  But.. reasons.  I'm trying.  And it's fucking hard.  Hopefully, I'll see a few of you tomorrow, and we can be silly and happy and all that jazz.

In the mean time, I'm going to GO to class tonight (I was going to bail) and work hard enough that there's no room for that bullshit in my brain.  Here's hoping it works!  ;)

***Turns out I wasn't done.

I miss talking to mom after I got out of work.  I'm a huge nerd - I love to research things.  I'll find something that I don't know a lot about, or just something I'm fascinated with - and then dive in.  Even when I'm busy at work, I find something new to discover.  Then I would go home and tell mom.  Granted - she was a captive audience haha, since she was bed bound - but trust me, she could still let you know if you were getting on her damn nerves.  She ALWAYS paid attention, because what I had to say mattered - even if the topic at hand wasn't something she cared about.  If she really didn't like it - or thought it was dumb, I'd get an epic eye roll and a chuckle.  She still listened.  I stopped gathering info to share like that.  I think I'll start that back up, and harass other random people with it.

On tribes, screwing up, and talking it out

A little while ago, I deactivated my Facebook account for about 3 days. It was getting to be too much. I opened it back up, and said ok... you were so much happier without it, leave it be. It can exist without you constantly checking it.

Riiiiight. I failed hard on that one. I turned off the notifications on my phone, but gradually started checking it more and more frequently.  I don't claim that it's the same for each person, but for me, the NOW mentality is brutal. The need to know NOW how a person reacted, or commented to a specific thing. The need to know NOW if a person replied to a comment. Why? Why is that necessary? I think I would rather wait and receive a well thought out reply, or answer, than anything given in the NOW mentality. 

That all sounds super hoity-toity -  but eh, I don't mean it that way. 

I guess I feel like the value in an instantaneous relationship - whether that is a friendship, conversation among peers, or even the comments made to strangers on a news article - is low.  Yes, I  some instances I'm sure it can be high, but really? It's low. They are reactive. I know I'm not perfect, so I know that my initial reactions (when prompted by anything I feel passionately about) are not always... erudite, succinct, or hell - even kind. Maybe other people are good at it - I'm not. I'm also bad at passive aggressive.

JESUS WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY WOMAN?!

I guess because I'm bad at it, I need to steer my focus away from it. I need to foster more personal relationships - where we actually talk. Oh don't freak, messages are fine, but REAL conversations. I want to have my tribe. I want my tribe to be full of real people I can count on for more than a comment or a reaction.

I just have to figure out the best way to do that - for me.  The balance is currently fucked up, yeah?

So hey, if we talk? Welcome to my tribe. Pretty sure shit's gonna get weird in the best of ways. If we don't talk? Maybe we should!

Unexpected priest rage

This blog was started to help me deal with my grief.  It has. I thought I was going pretty good. Well, honestly, I really am.

Then... I started season one of This Is Life with Lisa Ling. First episode is about being called to the priesthood in Catholicism. Ok, cool, I like this stuff. Twins became priests.

Then... one of those twins was called to anoint the sick at a hospital. Father Gary anoints a woman with liver disease. She is ecstatic, and is visibly happy to have him there.

Rage. All. The. Rage.

All I could see was the priest with mom. Anointing the Sick and Reconciliation.  Viaticum.

As part of Viaticum, a priest can offer the Apostolic Pardon:

"May our Lord Jesus Christ, who gave to His blessed apostle Peter the power of binding and loosing, mercifully accept your confession and restore your baptismal innocence. And I, by the power given to me by the Holy See, grant you a plenary indulgence and remission of all sins; in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

By the sacred mysteries of mankind’s restoration may almighty God remit for you the punishment of the present life and of the life to come, and may He open to you the gates of Paradise and admit you to everlasting happiness."

Mom was given this. It still makes me so angry. She was bed bound for thirteen motherfucking years or so. How the HELL did she SIN???

AND I, BY THE POWER GIVEN TO ME BY THE HOLY SEE, GRANT YOU A PLENARY INDULGENCE AND REMISSION OF ALL SINS;

Fuck you. Fuck your indulgences. She did not NEED your indulgence. Damn it still pisses me off.

Yeah, I know it's irrational. I know she wanted it, just like that lady in the show. I know. I know it's his job. I know. I still hate it.

I should have punched him. I would have probably been able to let it go a little quicker.

Ugh. Grief. Smash-A-Thon.

This is going to be a weird rambly post - forewarning.

A very dear friend of mine passed away suddenly on February 11th.  I make it through tough shit with humor.  A lot of times it's inappropriate - or awkward - but it helps me.  I'm also very private.  I don't post about my feelings on social media.  Not real actual feelings.  So it is filled with jokes, and news, or politics.

We were friends since we were 13ish.  I'm about to be 39.  That's a long time.

He was married to my best friend, they had a little girl and he already had a son.  I obviously have no idea how it feels to lose a spouse.  I made the decision as soon as I learned that he had passed, that I would keep my grief quiet, out of respect for hers.  Yeah, I know people tell you that all your feelings are valid - and they are!  But there IS a way things should be done.  You can disagree with me all you like, but it's a damn fact.  Grieving wife (or husband), and mother/father go first, in all things.  So no - it wasn't a notion of misplaced nobility - and it wasn't done so people could pat me on the back.  I honestly *hate* that.

It was also, just a smidge selfish.  Ok, maybe a lot.  I will totally own that.

You see, if I focused on doing what I could to help my friend, I could ignore the shenanigans in my own head.  If I nabbed a couple extra side jobs, helped with the funeral in ways that I could, and remained as busy as humanly possible - I could ignore all the rest of it.  Human nature - what a double edged sword.

All of that has to end at some point though, right?  The celebration of his life concluded.  I gave my eulogy.  I reconnected with some old friends, which was amazing.  I had a drink in his name.  I went home - well, kinda, I went to my next house sitting job.  And then the next day came, and all those stifled things kind of crashed over me.  I spent that first weekend wallowing in some grief, rage, sadness and yes a small dose of self-pity.  It's getting better day by day. 

By the way - I would not recommend dealing with things the way I do, mmkay?  Not so healthy.  I think I may attempt a Smash-A-Thon a la my good friend in Maine though.  Break all the things as therapy.  Then continue therapy in Krav.

You wanna smash things with me?  Let me know.  We'll make a plan. 

Penthos - and an Instructable

Life.  Every now and again it just eggs you in the face, you know? 

I literally just deleted a super long blog post here.  Decided that I'm not down for that level of sharing today.  I'll sum up with this:

Death is awkward bullshit.  Grief is ugly, and raw - which it's kind of supposed to be.  When you lose someone, you feel - and those feels don't always make sense.  Just let them be what they are.  (Note to self, and anyone else who might be having issues).  Let them be messy.  Cry.  Talk about the person you are missing.  Be mad.  Be sad.  Whatever!  Comfort the people that loved that person, if you can.  Recognize that there is *nothing* you can do to help - except by making yourself available. Understand that you can grieve without telling the world about it - or you can tell the whole damn world if you want - but it's not a competition and there's no right way to do it.  (See Mom, I did learn something!)

Me?  I think I'll just be quiet for a bit.  Do the best I can to support a friend I love dearly who is now a widow.  Pass on all the extra love I can get together for a little girl, and little boy, who have no daddy now. I'll remember all the good stuff, the bad stuff, and the dumb shit haha.  Rakkasan hooah!