Times of difficulty often expose the strong and the weak. The unsupportive and the supportive. The kindhearted and the lack thereof. It is during these times; you desperately cling on to any resemblance of normality. Everyday events, such as getting up out of bed can prove to be a disservice to the depression and anxiety that refuses to take a back seat in your life, I often wondered about the expressions such as, "God won't put no more on you than you can bear," or "have the faith of a mustard seed." It’s questionable whether someone truly experienced rock bottom when they wrote or said this; or did it just sound good to someone who has never succumbed to the struggle?
After the loss of my mother, I quickly found out just how tough life can get. The support. The encouragement. The companionship. The Love. Just having a mother, a confidant on earth to fully make you aware of your being. I've died two deaths that day my mom transitioned. The loss of me and the loss of her. I forgot how to be a woman in all my entirety.
Growing up, we've always struggled, but me and my mom were a team. We were each other’s backbone. Yes, it was very much a co-dependent relationship in which my navel was left uncut. In other words, just because the umbilical cord was cut, my attachment physically had not been severed. Here I was, a motherless child being a mother; a single mother at that. I had to be a parent who had to re-parent herself while grieving. While not recognizing the woman, I’ve become. While being depressed. While constantly crying in secrecy and fatigued in spirit. How could I explain to my 10-year-old that mommy just doesn’t feel like being a mother today? It sounds awful as I type it, but honesty is all I have that has not been taken from me. It’s the only lifeline to me and Spirit. I cannot function on waking or sleeping hours without the enabling of alcohol or sleeping pills. I didn’t want to be dependent upon that, so I opted out of taking them and just survive from no more than 1-3 hours a day of sleep.
My son sat me down one day and told me that I look tired. I am not who he is used to seeing. He asked me, “Mama are you depressed? Because you know that leads to stress, and that leads to anxiety, and pretty soon the suicidal thoughts come in.” I sat and looked at him bewildered. I asked him how he came to this conclusion and he simply said, “I researched it.” Something he saw in me made him curious; it made him study me in a profound way that promoted my behavior as abnormal. I looked at him with tears in my eyes and I said, “I am supposed to parent you. I guess intellect has been passed down by the ancestors into your embodiment.” He said, “I just listen when you talk and give me encouragement so I’m giving it back to you.”
At that moment, I was in complete and total awe. I knew things were bad, but I didn’t know I had checked out mentally and just existed on autopilot. I thought if I kept myself busy, nobody would notice how sad I was, the bags under my eyes, the weight loss and the self-loathing. I was existing. I was operating with a dead soul on the inside. I still haven’t quite revived it. Lucid dreaming is the only control I have and it’s the only way I can create a new concept to my warped reality.
How can I NOT be around and people don’t notice my withdrawals, my isolation, my departure from everyday current events? The biggest lie people tell you are the lies they tell you after the funeral: “Anything you need, I’m here,” “I’m a phone call away,” “You are going to get tired of me because I won't let you be alone.” The list goes on and on. Phone calls and texts replace touch. Sending messages like, “How are you?’ are deemed effort worthy. Nobody really has time to check on you because self comes first with them. I don’t answer the phone and I simply text back with, “I’m ok.” That’s enough to suffice their curiosity. The sudden excitement around death has passed now so people are on to the next best thing. You are supposed to be over it and moved on in a matter of days, sometimes weeks. You are not supposed to still be crying, still empty, still numb. LIFE HAPPENS! GET OVER IT!
I never knew inhumanness or insensitivity until I experienced the greatest loss of my life. Elders and family, I looked up to are now strangers. Friends aren’t friends anymore and they are blowing in the wind. Caring and compassion are limited. It has a trial basis. And my trial has expired. Depression will have you hiding. Closed off. Not answering the phone. These things are overlooked because you “look strong.” Nothing appears wrong because you logged into your Facebook page today and made an inspirational post today. All is well. You even took a selfie. You combed your hair. You looked nice. You are healing well.
When I lost my mother, I thought in some corner of my mind, that my father and I would somehow bury the hatchet and become closer, That was wishful thinking on my part. The universe has a way of manifesting your fears faster than your dreams. Let’s just say that I lost both of my parents. My father and I’s relationship have always been problematic, toxic, and dysfunctional, often resulting in intense verbal abuse and physical. I can’t depend on my brother because addiction has taken over his life so on a good day, I would have to catch him before his next high.
Change. That’s the biggest part I have a problem with. The void. The phantom, limb of physical missing her. I am a diamond before it is beautified. I’ve been pressed down, shaken together, put through the fire. I am sackcloth that has been adorned in soot, in ashes. I am broken.
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