I’m back again…like I said I would be with more blog posts! Last night, I shared with you all my Redemption and Self-worth post about being a mistress aka an “Easter Egg”.
This is going to be a heavy post because I have been sitting on these feelings for a while.
My mother passed in October 2012. Although I was there for her while she was ill, it still didn’t change the fact that she was physically about to expire. Nothing or no one can prepare anyone for death. Of course, I was in an ever changing spiritual state of questioning life and death back then. More importantly, where do souls go since we’re made up of energy? No Christian (my faith at the time) could tell me. Now, I realized that I didn’t properly mourn her death. 2013 was rough as hell! So much was going on…death, surviving undergrad/grad school, my break up, stress(which turned into me having alopecia in 2014), and navigating being a single mother.
Death really became a new beginning.
I was semi-suicidal and depressed. I was a foster child, so I already didn’t have my mom around for most of my pre-teen and teenage years. I debated killing myself several times. For what? I thought it would fix the pain, but I am glad that I realized I would be inflicting so much involuntary agony towards my family. During this gloomy time, I stopped talking to family and friends. I dropped out of grad school…I felt too depressed to finish. I had heightened relationship issues with my kid’s father that seemed to magnify after her death. The issue was that I didn’t know how to properly mourn. Does anyone ever though?
Sad excuses because I’m supposed to be a big girl, right?
January through March 2013, I finally mourned her. I finally let go of the pain of watching her on a breathing machine and hearing that “death rattle”…that’s when your lungs fill with fluid. I let go of burdens dealing with her being in another city having to catch the bus in the rain, while being weak coming from dialysis. I regret that. I am literally shamefully sobbing right now. I was fucked up. I fucked up! I was so busy living in another city, being a mom, being a live-in GF to a guy who didn’t seem to appreciate me (but shit, did I even appreciate myself?), graduating undergrad, going to grad school, trying to balance bills and be “grown”, and still travel up and down the highway to see her when her other kids couldn’t make it.
Watching her life deteriorate before my eyes was by far the hardest shit I’ve ever had to go through. Sitting by her thinking of all those times I was a smart ass to her…thinking about all those times I could have hugged her, or came to see her more. Or hell, moved my kid’s father out and moved her into my home just spend a little more time with her.
I’ll tell you this…that woman was a Scorpio Rebel! Side note… she and my daughter’s birthdays are a day apart. She was supposed to share a birthday with my daughter, but the C-section didn’t go as planned and….she got on my nerves that day, so I asked God to not let my daughter be born on her birthday…ughh. Yes, I know petty. I am sorry mama.
Getting back on task here…
This heifer came on the Greyhound bus a year, or so prior…2 hours from our birthplace to TELL me (didn’t ask,) she was moving in with me….transferred her doctors and dialysis to move up here. I met her at the Greyhound station and told her she had to go back. When I look back, I question myself if I even deserved her love and affection she was trying to give me. She still loved me anyway and looked past all the bullshit that I was giving her. I was too focused on trying to work out that dead ass relationship with my kid’s dad over building another with her. STOP RESURRECTING DEAD ASS RELTIONSHIPS! This random man told me, and I’ll never forget in that Greyhound station, that I will never get another mother and to treat her right.
Did I take his advice? No, it fell on deaf ears until she was on her death bed.
Fast forward to 2014 to mid-2015/2016….I began going overboard with the piercings, mostly, and tattoos. I was swimming in a puddle of pain…straight drowning actually. I love my tats and piercings… and I still believe its self-expression, but in reality, I was self-mutilating some pain away as well. Again, this was around the time of me exploring my sexuality and being a mistress as well(ending part of 2014 thru mid 2015… I was in a relationship…just needed to add). I was in a ton of emotional shit. Do you feel me? Now that I think about it, every time I was emotionally rejected through those months…I got a piercing. The over abundance of piercings really began to happen often in 2015…I have had/have just about all types of piercings 😉
Another side note…
I’m spiritually being nudged to tell you all about that time my mom came to visit me for Christmas. I had just revived that dead ass break up with my kids father, before the “big break up”, in 2011 going into 2012. I was pregnant with my son and my daughter was about 2 or 3…I treated my mom so bad. I was scared that I was pregnant, scared that I made the wrong decision to even have sex with him. God, I literally had a panic attack in the bathroom. Thoughts raced through my mind…”what if he leaves me” or “how am I going to finish college and work on $7.25 hour paycheck?” It was little the things that annoyed me during that time. God, I would like a do-over.
Every year…at the beginning of the year, I literally go through depression, suicidal thoughts, and now, anxiety. I have probably always had anxiety and just pinpointed what it was.
This year was no different. Only difference was that I hadn’t gotten any new piercings in 2017. I don’t have much left to pierce, truth be told. This year I broke down in my employers bathroom crying…walking back in and out of the office…to go unnoticed…that I was really battling with some emotions inside. I was fucked up, for a lack of a better statement. I had taken all that I felt I could take. I wrote my “tribe” a letter saying this is it. I’ll make a will and to please take care of my kids. Of course, being the kind family that they are…they reached out. I explained that I missed my mom, life is stressful, and my job is just shaky. I couldn’t leave anyway…who would be here to help heal others, or love on my kids like me, or even to be that optimistic person in a room full of naysayer’s and Debbie Downers? I have to stay. My mission would be incomplete.
I finally realized what I was going through. It is called a “deathversary”. It is when you become emotional around the months that your loved one passed. My aunt helped me figure it out. I wasn’t crazy…this is normal behavior. Anxiety isn’t a joke. You’re one cry away from leaving your natural life at times.
Are you struggling too?
What has to be done…is that you have to doing something fun, or doing something in their remembrance around that time. For me, I’d probably get a massage somewhere to relax and be around people who care for my well-being…who can speak life into my situation and emotions. Say affirmations. Grounding yourself at the park in the grass…dig your feet into the earth. Hug a tree. Mediate in nature. We’re going to make it!
I am not alone. You are not alone. We are loved. We can overcome anxiety, depression, and suicidal thoughts. Mourning is natural. I talk to my mom out loud because I know her soul visits me. Her energy comforts me when I’m sad. That hell raising Scorpio wouldn’t ever leave me!
The best thing to happen to me was being a mom to a silly Cancer boy and a little Scorpio baby girl. She is so much like me…and my mom. We’re all funny in a weird, quirky way. I’ll share this again…The night my mom passed; I was filling out her paper work to go into hospice. She wasn’t having that. She didn’t want to go in a place like that. That heifer died before she went into a hospice care center! LOL But…that night when I got off the phone with her doctor…I know I felt my mom’s spirit flow through me. I reached for my babies kneeling in the kitchen…hugging them so tight…telling them that I loved them. They couldn’t comprehend at that moment. I couldn’t understand what I was doing. She was telling me goodbye and that she loved me…and she always felt like my brother and I were my kids. So, now, as I write this and watch my 2 Peas as they rest…I get to look at them in amazement every night as they sleep in my bed…just thinking…damn, my mama looked at us the same way! That thought keeps me content.
Peace and Blessings,
Random Mixed Chick