Looming Darkness

I woke today, tired as per. Thought I’d be ready to take on the day. A little something came over me, not sure if it was a little dad trigger, an irrational fear that came into my mind, or the onset of my ‘aunt flow’ visiting; but the waterworks ensued as I was wiping down the counters amidst trying to do seven things at once, per usual.

Not that having a certain monthly visitor is any excuse to release your emotions, but I feel I am a teensy bit *extra* sensitive to anything right now, and how I deal, or lack thereof, with emotions doesn’t really help either.

I think I’m at the phase where I feel like anything I do isn’t good enough. Just my mere existence and my ego is like, “Ugh you suck.” I obviously know that’s not the case, but this specific period in time I’m feeling a little extra, in the complete opposite way I’d like to be.


My emotions have a habit of coming in waves. It’s sort of been like this my entire life, or for as far as I can remember. I get high-highs and low-lows. In relation to currently, I can go about my day, lalalala, then out of nowhere I’m hurdled over, crying in the lettuce drawer. Get up, wipe my face, and completely forget what I was doing, and begin to wander again. Rinse. Repeat.

In a way this is a beautiful tragedy, to a beautiful new beginning. I get that. Nothing holding me back, so it seems, my own life is my oyster. I can literally do whatever the fuck I want.

Now the problem isn’t going after it, so to speak- cause thats another issues I’m working on, another post for another day- but its figuring out what exactly I want. Yea, I know, you can’t bring people back from the dead(yet), but my heart has taken over and all it wants is my Dad back.

Every night I’ve been crying myself to sleep. I just have a little cry out for Dad, telling him “I miss you. I love you. I’m so sorry” and then I eventually drift off. Some may call it dramatic, I call it healing in my own fucking way so buzz off.

Sure, the pity party was never extended through the weekend but someone clearly hasn’t told main body Anne the news.


I know everyone heals differently and in their own way, in their own time. And I thought I was good, enough, relatively, to keep pushing through. I said my goodbyes and cries to him at hospice. I saw his ice cold body one last time before he want sent off. I’ve had many moments of releasing and feeling the feelz… yet the pain still ensues.

I know the pain could last forever, for awhile, be gone and done with. Everyday it gets more manageable and people move on. I know this. I also know that if you stay at the sad party for too long, you’re ultimately fucking yourself over because its harder to get back up when you finally realize how big of a pit you’ve created. So, I’ve been trying to heal the ‘right’ way, if there even is one, so I don’t end up being the local supermarket drinker who slams a bottle on the floor before she even gets to the cash register. And by floor, I mean, I’m literally on the floor, fetal position, referencing the last blog posts wine aisle preference, Tony- assuming there’s a Tony that works at the local Kroger- has to come get me everytime or just put up a wet floor sign so people avoid that aisle all together, and then I manage to stumble to the front entrance to wait for my Uber that I never called, and regrettably, its my Mom. Again.

I do not. I repeat, DO NOT want to end up being that girl. For fuck sake. Get me the hell out of dodge. But that would be the old me, the scared part of me taking the wheel again, trying to act all tough and macho; when in reality, I’ve been trying and doing the whole facing my fears thing. Its sort of been my motto for the last couple years, especially for traveling and trying out new things, but it bled into all my life categories because I didn’t think it was such a bad gig.


Questions/Thoughts that have been prominent for me lately:

  • Does this shameful feeling ever go away?
  • Why am I never enough?
  • Why can’t I be like the others?
  • I’m not strong enough to keep going forward
  • How do I become strong enough to make it through each day?
  • How do I become happy again?
  • How do I process the guilt feelings?
  • Why am I cowering away in fear for the most random things?
  • Why am I becoming afraid again?

This is all new for me so I’m not sure if I’m asking and processing the right questions, if I need to be still for a period of time, be surrounded by people, go to a Deaths Anonymous group, get professional help, schedule hella more therapy appointments, get out and go venture alone somewhere, eat my feelings with no appetite, take up a new hobby and throw myself in it, keep writing until the thoughts don’t flow anymore, sleep, take a nap, and then another nap and then another after that.


I can’t fight this guilt that keeps hanging its head over my shoulder and I don’t know why. I feel responsible for not being there enough. I feel like a charity case when people reach out saying ‘I’m so sorry for your loss’ so I haven’t told anyone. I hate feeling like I’m below others, like I’m another sad sappy story people have to entertain for the time being and I can’t find my own way.

I get mad. Then I get sad again. Then I get confused. Then I go blank. And thats sort of the merry-go-round of my existence these past three official days since his passing.

It feels weird. But maybe weird is the new normal. I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to agree with this lifestyle. And I don’t want to be a quitter, but rather, see the situation, the different parts of me that are showing, acknowledge the grief, the sadness, the pain, the confusion, the emptiness, and somehow make peace with them all and whatever else I’m forgetting in this moment- just so I can get through the day and have a genuine smile without feeling guilty because of it.

Happiness moment today: I took my nephew for a brief bike ride, but a bike ride nonetheless. I asked him if riding bikes could be our thing together. He said yes. That made my heart warm.

Finding the warmth in this world again, slowly but surely. I will not let the darkness define me.

One breath at a time, I am whole again. I become me again.

XX

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