Waves

When Daniel and I moved in together, I had just lost my mom and my job. Being a functional human didn’t feel possible, so I did what any completely rational and happy person would do, channeled all my energy into moving into our house, rearranging furniture, and decorating. It was fun for a while but my attention span isn’t that long so I got bored quickly. I took our dogs on walks as much as I could, but my anxiety brain started to take over and it felt almost impossible to do that anymore.

Right when my mom passed away, my friends handed me a kitten and basically said here take care of this it’ll make you feel better. Don’t get me wrong I love Milo to death but he was the bane of my existence back then. The meowing, the scratching, and constant annoyance wasn’t something I was ready to handle at that stage in my life but they were kind of right, I did have something to take care of. Because I know I wasn’t really taking care of myself back then.

Shortly after, Daniel and I adopted a puppy. Completely out of the blue of course, but we couldn’t pass him up and his little squishy face. Apollo was the cutest puppy and he’s still the most adorable boy you’d ever meet. Chance, Apollo, and Milo gave me reasons to get out of bed, to take care of things other than myself. They needed me. It felt good to be needed and depended upon.

I tried going back to therapy but after my first experiences, I didn’t want to risk it again. I didn’t feel ready either. Processing this kind of grief takes years. It was months after she passed and everyone else’s world kept going while my mine exploded and I stood in rubble, unable to comprehend the world around me. Daniel, although my rock, also lost my mom. He was grieving as well. We didn’t talk much about her, just cried a lot.

The amount of crying I did, and still do, is unfathomable. So cathartic, letting loose of the anger, guilt, and sadness, felt almost freeing. Except when I remembered why I was crying and those waves of feelings slammed into me, unsuspecting. It’s like turning your back to the ocean, it’s a rule not to, those waves sneak up on you and slam you into the sand so unforgivingly.

The way I dealt with losing my mom was different from everyone. My sister and brother handled grief in their own ways, all I could do was be there for them. They lost their mom at 21 and 18. They were still in and just starting college. Sometimes I wonder how we got here. To 2022. How did we all make it? The late night drunk calls from them sobbing uncontrollably, made me think that there’s no way out. We’re all stuck here. In this circle of hell. Together, at least, but still hell.

The bits and pieces I do remember for the rest of the year were mostly good. Going to a Friendsgiving, being with Daniel, going out, having game nights, and mostly distracting myself. Until my grandma, my mom’s mom, passed away less than a year after my mom. If teleportation and time travel were real, i’d be sent right back to the first month after my mom died.

I don’t remember much. Going to see grandma in the hospital. Somehow she bumped her leg and fell, causing internal bleeding. She didn’t tell anyone. A month later she died. It was all so surreal. The two women who loved me most, loved our family most, were gone. The most caring people you’d ever meet. Just snatched away from this earth like some horrible punishment.

It’s exhausting being pulled through grief. Once you’re in it, that’s it. For life. Stuck to navigate the sands all while getting pummeled by unsuspecting waves. Sometimes you’ll come upon calm, it’ll last for days, even months. The water is smooth, clear, relaxing. You’ll forget why you’re depressed and just go on living. But that storm is brewing, in the distance it’s dark, angry.