love – It’s All in Your Head

“Maybe Christmas means a little bit more.” ~ Dr. Seuss

**Every Knee Shall Bow – by Gaye Francis Willard**

So, a couple of people shared a post about Christmas and loss and it really hit me. Terri and I are struggling so much this week…ma loved Christmas and she always made it so nice for us! This post helped me to understand that it’s ok to grieve a loss on any holiday and also that none of us are alone. Here’s some of what the Facebook post said:

“So I would like to remind you that there are people for whatever reason are not looking forward to Christmas. Some people are not surrounded by large wonderful families. Some of us have problems during the holidays and are overcome with great sadness when we remember the loved ones who are not with us any longer. For many it is their first Christmas without a particular loved one and many others lost loved ones at Christmas. And, many people have no one to spend these times with and are besieged by loneliness. We all need caring, loving thoughts right now.”

Isn’t this a great message? It’s so easy to get caught up in the shopping, wrapping, decorating, planning, baking, cooking, etc. that we sometimes lose sight of what Christmas should really celebrate. What the true meaning really is. And how for many, Christmas isn’t always a joyous season.

For years, ma had a tradition for me and Terri: we’d go over the day after Christmas and ma would cook a big pot of chili. She took so much care in buying us special gifts and always had a new quilt for us! Terri and I loved spoiling her too…watching her open her presents was always fun and she’d say: “Oh! I’ve always wanted one!” or “Oh! I’ve been needing one!” or “Oh! You made this perfectly!”

Ma, Terri and Dan ready to eat chili last Christmas!

Last year was the best Christmas we ever had with her! It was just me, ma, Terri and her hubby (Dan) and we wore comfy clothes and cozied up inside her house. We yapped and opened presents and lolled around and had a great dinner with so many laughs. It was relaxed and happy and special and I’m wondering if maybe the day itself was the real gift given to us.

I’m guilty of losing sight of what Christmas really means. The hoopla is great…but that’s not really Christmas. It’s not really the reason the day is celebrated. It’s not really the reason we all gather together and show our love for one another. Of course I celebrate Christmas with all of the fun, but I also try my very best to take time to remember that it’s the birth of my saviour, Jesus Christ, that makes it what it is. And this is what I’ve been thinking about all week.

Me and Terri last Christmas…ma loved this pic!

Terri and I no longer have our ma to be with on a day she cherished with us. And it hurts. So fucking much (sorry ma😳). But I’m also realizing that we aren’t alone in this. God gave us his son to show his love for us. His want of us to be with him forever. He did this so we’d always have the comfort of knowing that no matter what’s happening in our lives, Jesus is there. Sometimes we lean on him, sometimes he carries us, and no matter what, he’s always willing to relieve us from our burdens…if we just ask. He surrounds us completely and it’s comforting to know I’m truly never…ever…alone. And I need to remember that. Especially now.

Ma and I always went to Texas for Christmas when O lived down there!

I think I have a ‘childish’ view of heaven: I believe it’s what YOU want it to be. Heaven is our eternal glory. Our eternal happiness. Our eternal joy. It’s going to fulfill what our wants are. So on Christmas day, I think ma, grandma, and grandpa are going to eat a lobster dinner (it’s free in heaven🤔 ), open presents that make them laugh, and remember the times we were all together on earth. Then they’re going to look down on me and Terri and our families and know that we’re going to be OK. That we have Jesus’s arms around us. And that one day, we’re going to have chili with ma again. Until then, I’ll cry over the memories, laugh at old pictures, and thank God over and over for having given Terri and I the gift of his son. And the gift of a ma that is missed so much.

Merry Christmas, peeps.

Love you ma. Love you more.

Kristi xoxo

“Won’t take nothin’ but a memory from the house that built me.” ~ Miranda Lambert

So, my sister and I got an offer on ma’s house yesterday which we’re going to accept. The people want to move in around mid-January and this will be the last ‘thing’ we’re going to be letting go of. It’s hitting me like a ton of bricks.

I’ve always been the type to get attached to things so much. I’ve got a bunny I won at our local laundry when I was 4 and I named her ‘Pinky’…she’s pink so I was very creative with the name. Anyhoot, I still have her 52 years later – minus her ears which fell off sometime in the 70’s and a pair of my underwear from the same decade that’s been on her since. No…I’ve never washed this underwear in all of these years…and no, Pinky is pottie-trained so it’s ok. When O saw her for the first time last year when I was rummaging around in my old closet at ma’s, he was horrified. Absolutely horrified. In fact, I’ve never seen my son with such a look of fear on his face…apparently, he likens Pinky to Annabelle. Go figure. 🙄

I have so many other things that I just can’t let go of either: books from when I was a kid…old school papers of my own and of O’s…my teaching supplies from when I taught elementary complete with every drawing my students made for me…cards my college sweeties have given me over the last 26 years…even hankies that are in complete tatters just because ma said they were like Grandpas and you just can’t find them available anymore. I guess I’m just a sucker for nostalgia.

Me and Terri on the porch before a wedding!

Pop and ma built the house when I was in first grade and Terri and I got to pick out our room design: I chose bright yellow wallpaper with huge flowers on it, gold paint, gold carpet and then a red/white/blue ceiling light that went with absolutely nothing. I got the smaller room but bigger closet and pop built bookshelves in it and I’d sit inside the closet and play library with Pinky and my myriad of other stuffed friends. Terri was a bit more stylish since she’s so much older than me 🤨) and her colors of choice were orange wallpaper with bright flowers, orange paint, and orange carpeting. However, her light was much more in keeping with the decor. But we loved our rooms…they were VERY cool!

We used to use our hairbrushes as microphones and sing David Cassidy songs in front of her closet which was our ‘audience’…Terri styled my hair in her room and bopped my nose with the hair dryer each and every time…we each got our own stereo’s and Terri would play her Donna Summer album at bedtime and to this day, I still feel drowsy when I hear MacArthur Park. We’d make brownies when ma was at work and then eat the batter with our fingers. We tanned on our deck and watched our skin turn red and our hair turn orange. We’d pull our bikes out of the garage and ride around the neighborhood for hours. We’d use the pogo stick and stilts Grandpa gave us and would totter around the driveway.

Ma rummaging around in her kitchen in the 80’s!

But with ma’s house, I have mixed feelings – there are a lot of good memories in it…but there are a lot of bad too. And honestly, I think the bad ones are one of the reasons I chose not to live in the house myself.

Richard (that fucking bastard 😡) moved into it when I was a sophomore in high school and it was a weird time. He was nice at first (as most abusers are) but there was still that awkwardness of having this new person around. Then the violence he perpetuated against ma began, and escalated quickly. I would hear him beating her at night when I was in bed and the horror of that was indescribable. Then there were the ‘between’ times when ma and I had to tiptoe around on eggshells so that I was never really comfortable at home when he was around.

Even after moving out, Terri and I were still directly affected by R. EVERY holiday was hellish because he would either be ranting, preaching, demanding, yelling or lashing out and for 28 years, Thanksgiving and Christmas were a trial. Terri and I would dread going over there when he was home and because of this didn’t see ma as much as we’d like, which was exactly what Richard wanted. The less access she had to us…the more he had to her.

But then she divorced him and her transformation began. Not just personally, but in terms of her home too. She wanted a completely fresh start and re-did everything exactly the way she wanted. Paint, window coverings, carpet, furniture, lamps, a complete remodel of her bathrooms, and the list goes on. She even had her bedroom painted a pinkish-rose…one of her very favorite colors! Her home went from a prison to a retreat and she loved it so much. I don’t know how many times she said how comfortable she was…how content…how happy.

And it took on a completely different meaning for us again. I loved going over there and eating lunch at her kitchen island, playing cards in her sunroom, having holidays that were relaxed and fun and opening presents on the living room floor, sewing with her downstairs and rummaging through her fabric stash, watching her quilt on her long-arm, plopping on her bed when she got ready to go somewhere, having family meals…especially chili…in the dining room and laughing our way through it, seeing her sitting on the porch when she knew I was running over and wanted to see me coming up the street, talking to her while I watered her outside plants as she sat on the porch bossing me around. These last 12 years of memories are awesome…and those are the ones I want to remember most.

The last pic O took of ma and me…we’re in her sunroom!

I guess letting go of the house is letting go of her pride and joy. Of the best years of her life. Of her growth. Of her true happiness. Of the time where she could be herself with absolutely no one berating her. Suddenly the house ‘was her’. And it symbolized the best of her that she discovered within herself.

I honestly don’t know if I’ll be able to do a final walk through. It’s completely empty now and I haven’t seen it yet. Terri was the one to take care of the long-arm machine which was the last thing to go. But I think I want to remember it full of her. Seeing her in her jammies and sitting on her chair and cross-stitching and watching American Ninja Warriors, (she had a HUGE crush on The Rock and actually told me something naughty she wanted to do with him…I was a bit taken aback! 😮) while eating a bowl of her Bear Track ice cream.

That’s what I want to take with me. And that’s what she was able to leave Terri and I with.

Love you ma. Love you more.

Kristi xoxo

“Celebrate good times, come on!” ~ Kool and the Gang

So, I came across a speech I made at the Relay for Life some years ago and it was all about celebrating ma. I didn’t want to just focus on her being a breast cancer survivor at the time, but for the person she truly was. As I read it today, something awesome happened…I started to smile and cry and laugh and it felt great. No matter what she endured in her life, she was a wonderful parent and friend, and Terri and I talk often about how proud we always were of her! And…here’s some reasons why!

At Relay for Life after I gave my speech!

Ma was a voracious reader! Even before I could climb up on her lap myself, ma would spend hours reading to me and teaching me to love books and reading just as much as she did. Opening up these ‘worlds’ to me taught my imagination to soar…something that I hope I still have! As adults, ma, Terri and I always recommended books to each other and discussed the merits of various authors. (Me and Terri love Wally Lamb…but ma wouldn’t read him 🙄). One of her biggest fears in life was having an over-due library book and she would never let us borrow her card…just in case we didn’t get the book back in time. Sheesh!

The cake ma made for T’s 3rd birthday. Raggedy Ann’s pockets look like boobs!

Ma was a sucker for holidays! She always wrapped all of our presents perfectly and put so much thought into them. Ma saved all of the glue-y school decorations Terri and I brought home and got them out every year at Christmas. When we were kids, we got to pick our special birthday meal. My go to was Kraft Mac and Cheese and green beans. (I had simple tastes then…but honestly, this sounds pretty fucking good right now 😳)! We also got to pick our cake and we most often chose a frozen concoction called Pistachio Dessert. For the last 10 years, German chocolate was my favorite and no one made the coconut icing like ma did.

Ma was a terrific cook and her chili, minestrone, lasagna, zucchini bread, chocolate chip bars, and the list goes on are going to be missed. She ALWAYS brought broccoli casserole to EVERY family gathering and I’m so happy Terri is taking that task over…beautifully I might add. BUT…ma could NOT make a meat loaf. They were ‘grayish’ (🤢) and hard and crusty and she absolutely hated that my mother in law made the best kick-ass meatloaf in the world! Ma never could get that right!

Ma was also extremely talented and made scores of quilts, intricate cross stitch pictures, knitted items, sequined stockings, and the list could go on and on! Ma passed on her love of sewing to me and Terri and always gave us each a special quilt that she made for us at Christmas. We cherish all of them! A couple of years ago, we made ma a quilt! We each made a side and she quilted it on her long-arm machine…she loved having something that had both of us in it!

At my high school graduation. I wonder why I wasn’t prom queen?

Ma was so supportive of my education! She was always room mom for Terri and me in elementary school and celebrated our successes. She made a big deal of graduations and when Terri graduated with her LPN years ago, ma gave a great party and was so proud! My favorite memory of her in school was in the 3rd grade: she did a craft with my class that consisted of gluing pieces of fabric to flower pots. I felt so special that my ma was craft lady for the day and the best part was that she wore a pink t-shirt pop had gotten her with the words “Foxy Lady” printed on it. Even NOW, if I run into someone from grade school, they still tell me how cool ma was!

All through my growing up years, ma was a self-confessed dog hater! She didn’t like them…wouldn’t pet them…and never once even considered having one in her home. Then I got Scooter when I moved into my own apartment. The first meeting between them did not go well and when I brought him over, she insisted he stay in a crate. Period. The 2nd time, she petted him and said I could hold him but not put him on the floor. Then something amazing happened: she started calling Scooter her ‘grand-dog’ and showered him with love and attention! If he piddled on her carpet, she’d simply smile and grab a paper towel. I was gobsmacked when she did this because if I dare drop a crumb from my Oreos, she’d have a conniption. Dottie may have been her very special dog out of all the ones I’ve had, but Scooter was her break through. And I know, without a doubt, that all 3 cuddle often in heaven.

Ma was great in emergencies. Terri and could call her about anything and she would be there…helping us in whatever way she could. Ma went to surgeries with me, loaned me money when I was struggling to make ends meet, commiserated with me when I had problems at school or work, and always hugged me tight when my heart was broken. Terri and I have always been amazed that such a small woman could have had such strong shoulders.

Ma in her favorite fabric store and made T and I claustrophobic!

Ma was a shopper. A browser. A thrift store lover. And a buyer! I’ll never forget when I was collecting Beanie Babies and ma stood in line with me (in 85 degree weather) for 3 hours to get a bear that is now available on e-bay for a quarter. Ma always took her grandkids shopping for school clothes and O just loves the memory of that. And the best part of shopping with her was when ma said a sentence Terri and I loved: “Oh…go ahead and grab it…I want to get it for you!” She was always so generous with us!

Ma was comforting to me. I specifically remember being in high school and waking up from a terrible dream. I cried out and ma came running in my room and held me close to her. No matter what was going on in my life, I would be comforted just by being close to her.

Ma was so smart! NO one could do word puzzles and games like her and playing Scrabble with her was intense…to say the least. Terri and I dreaded winning…because the look she got on her face when she lost was dreadful. We can both imitate it perfectly! The info she knew was boggling and she did her NYT Crosswords and sudokus in PEN! Now that’s confidence!

You know, as I was writing this and going through a ton of pictures, I was reminded how lucky I was to have ma. I miss her terribly. I’d give about anything to have her back for even a day, and I’d take a year off my life to have another with her. But I know this is impossible so I make do with what I have: knowing that ma was fantastic in so many ways and how very lucky I was to have her for as long as I did.

Love you ma. Love you more.

Kristi xoxo

“…remember that life’s a balancing act.” ~ Dr. Seuss

So, I just got done grading all of my finals – thank the Lord – and was thinking about a question I posed to my Intro to Sociology class. It was about labeling and how we either try to live up to them…live down to them…and then their lasting impact on our lives.

Some of the labels my students talked about broke my heart. So many said they had been labeled as ‘fat’, ‘dumb’, ‘annoying’, etc. and regardless of anything, they still feel the pressure and anxiety from it. For example, one of my students said that he was chubby during childhood and was labeled the ‘fat kid’. Even though he went on to play athletics in Jr. High and High School and became very fit and slim, he still carries that early message with him and said he is ‘extremely’ conscious about his weight still. That made me so sad for him!

And even positive labels can be stressful. Students talked about how they had been labeled ‘smart’ or ‘good’ and constantly feel the pressure to maintain that…pushing themselves to get perfect grades or always being nice.

Anyhoot, Terri and I started talking about labels too and both of us have been labeled as ‘too emotional’ and ‘too sensitive’ (big surprise there 🤨).

We’re aware that the label is correct…we’re conscious of our impassioned reactiveness and how it’s seen by others. The emotional load we carry is hard and being so sensitive, empathic, passionate, emotional, etc. is burdensome at times…hard on us….exhausting. The effect it has on us causes anxiety in terms of the storms inside of us and then the reproval we might face. It’s not easy having all of that simmering inside us.

But right now, the label that’s pressuring me the most is this: ‘Kristi is always energetic and happy and talkative and always smiles!’ (do I need commas between these? 🙄). And I try so hard to live up to this! Sometimes it’s easy because I am truly happy and energetic and my life is going great and I express it openly. However, that’s just something that’s not possible for me to do right now and it’s making me feel guilty and anxious.

People at school say “Wow! You’re doing so well!” because I put on that label mask: I smile and chuckle (there’s no way I can even fake a laugh) and find the reserves of energy I need in my classroom and with my colleagues. When I’m asked “How are you?” I say “I’m doing good!” I don’t want to tear up…or talk about my grief…or show my pain. I feel like I can’t since it goes against what’s expected of me. Or most likely, what I FEEL is expected of me.

See, I continue this even with my family and friends. I text with my usual exclamation points and chat with people with smiles and excitement. And then I get home. And I sit…and stare…and draw…and crochet…and write…and do anything I possibly can to distract myself from the negative emotions I need to express. It’s almost as if the label has become so internalized that I can’t NOT live up to it even when I’m alone. For fuck sakes, I don’t want Edward and Mally to get upset or scared.

How do I start to refute this label…this performance? How do I go against a lifetime of ‘happy’ and now show my grief for ma? I think this charade is preventing the avalanche that’s going to happen when I do. I also think it’s going to be something that only 1 person could ever help me with…and ma’s just not here.

I like being single in so many ways! The financial freedom…eating what I want…sleeping when I want…knowing if I put something down, it will be there when I come back. I like the quietness and privacy and knowing that my home is all mine. But…and there’s always a but…this is a time in my life when I need a ‘someone’ so bad. Someone to hug me…listen to me reminisce about ma and look at the photo books I’ve made…let me vent and then validate me when I do. Being alone is tough right now. I want to wave a magic wand and have that someone (who can sing country songs 🤠) just be there. That’s all. Just be there for me and then of course, me for them.

In the meantime…probably decades 🙄…I’m traversing this ‘alone’ in a lot of ways. Yes, Terri and Ollie are wonderful! T and I talk everyday and her support is huge. I don’t know what I’d do without her! But I was thinking the other night that everyone in my family has someone all their own: Ollie has his girlfriend and they are like an old married couple…Terri has Dan and they support each other so much…my nephews have their spouses and kids…and even all of my friends live with someone who’s simply there.

You know, I miss ma more than I can ever express. We talked everyday…saw each other multiple times a week…traveled together…ate together…played games together…sewed together…went to holiday gatherings together…went to ball games together. In other words, she was my someone. The one who was also alone, and with me we made a ‘together.’

I guess I need to lessen the hold this label has on me. Try to overcome the perceived demands this has on me. Work to understand that expressing negative emotions is valid for me…that I can cry and be upset and not smile and that it’s ok to do so. And I need to do this. I need to mourn ma. And I don’t think I’ve even started yet.

Love you ma. Love you more.

Kristi xoxo

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” C.S. Lewis

So, tomorrow is Thanksgiving and as much as Terri and I are missing ma and trying to figure out how to navigate the holidays without her for the first time, I also know how many blessings I have in my life too. My son, my family, my friends, my career, my home, my comfort, and the list goes on. I don’t ever want to lose sight of these things regardless of how much I’m grieving. 🙂

One of my colleagues and I were talking yesterday and she shared that she lost her dad 3 years ago. She asked how I was doing and I said my pat response: “Ok.” She said that she completely understood and even after the years that have passed since her loss, she’s often just ‘ok’ too. We talked about the pain losing a parent triggers and she said that she still cries over her dad…misses him daily…and feels the pain of his loss as something that she just carries inside of her now. I feel so bad for her since she and her dad were so close and thank her for being so open with me. To know that the struggle is real…and is going to be inside of me since ma will always be a missed part of my world…validates what both Terri and I are going through.

I think that all women feel what I know I do: that we ought to be the self-less ones…the ones who don’t take the last piece of cake, or demand what restaurant we eat at, or let our own desires come before those of our families. Maybe it’s in our DNA…maybe it’s the way ma raised T and I…or maybe it’s what we’ve chosen to spend our lives doing.

I’ve been teaching since I was 19 years old…preschool, jr. high teaching assistant, elementary, high school and college…basically the entire gamut of ages and grades and no matter what the level, students need so much from you. And, since I teach psych and socio and talk about some pretty difficult issues and struggles, so many students come to me for advice…comfort…direction. And honestly, it helps me as much as them. I want to the be the one to be leaned on. To be needed. To give to others because it makes me feel so good. T is the exact same way…her work as a private nurse and then the kind of grandma she is to my amazing nieces and nephews shows the size of her heart and her willingness to give all she has of herself.

I think all of this is why I’m finding it so hard to reach out to people who have offered support. When friends or family inquire about how I’m coping and handling things, more often than not I say “I’m fine!” to them. I want to recognize their pain first…their issues first…their needs first. I don’t want to burden them with mine…put anymore on their own shoulders…admit I need help.

I guess I don’t ever want to be seen as selfish and for me, asking for help puts me in that position. I jump on my own roof to clean out my gutters…move tons of rock by myself…teeter on ladders to paint my ceilings…put drops in Edward’s ears alone since it can be messy, and honestly, just doing this one task truly does show my inner strength. I think O and my next door neighbor would agree. 🙄

I’m also self-conscious about always being down. As I think all of us who experience depression can attest too, we soon learn that there’s often not a lot of compassion for us; or if there is, it dwindles as we continue to be down. If I asked how many of you have heard “Just cheer up!” “You’re so lucky for what you’ve got!” “Don’t you realize how bad off others are?” all of your hands would probably go up. We often feel guilty for suffering from something that’s inside of us…not something we’ve created. Likewise, those of us with bipolar who cycle through manic states hear similar sentiments: “Slow down!” “Just stop!” And my personal favorite: “Just calm down!” GRRRRRR!

So, we learn to mask our emotions the best we can so we don’t hear the frustration, weariness, and even at times contempt, in other’s voices. Maybe I’ve been doing this so long I simply can’t stop. I don’t want to seem needy or weak or lost. But just between you and me my sweetie peeps, I feel needy and weak and lost. And what is so so hard to realize as well is that ma is the one who made me feel needed…and strong…and anchored. She was the one I could be all these things too and have total, always unconditional, acceptance. Isn’t it ironic that the one I need most in my world is the one who’s no longer in it?

I know that I need to open myself up to the support being offered but genuinely don’t know how. “Can you come over and keep me company?” How can I ask that when they have their own lives to live? “Will you sit down with me and look at a photo album I made while I talk about all the memories that are between the covers?” How can I take up their time hearing my stories and seeing me cry? “Would you mind running some errands with me because being alone 90% of my time just gets to be too much and having company would feel so fucking (sorry, ma) good?” How can I force someone to spend time with me when I can always handle things myself? “Can I call and chat for a while?” How can I make myself be a pest to someone who’s so busy themselves?

I understand that this is a ‘me’ problem. An “I don’t know how to do this” problem. And I also know it’s keeping me from starting the work I know I need to be doing…not just getting through each day so busy that I don’t have time to think. That’s beginning to not work for me now and with Thanksgiving, my birthday and Christmas all within the next month, those triggers are going to be mighty hard to ignore.

Terri and I both need to cut ourselves some slack…be kinder to ourselves. We need to stop feeling guilty for asking for help and for feeling selfish when we do. We also need to be able to start saying ‘no’ to things that will take away from what we are personally able to handle right now. Reversing decades of feeling bad about ourselves when we were depressed or struggling has made it’s imprint…it may be a while before we can let some of that go.

Every night I thank God that he gave me a ma that I miss so fucking much. She was such an amazing mother and the love I have for her is undefinable. It’s a blessing to have experienced what a lot of others haven’t been able too. And I’ll be thankful for that forever.

Happy Thanksgiving, peeps…thank you for your kind messages and sweet words. They are truly appreciated more than you’ll ever know. 💘💘💘

Love you ma. Love you more.

Kristi xoxo

I will keep the tie that binds us ~ Johnny and June Carter Cash (‘Cause I Love You)

So, I’ve struggled with losing ma and am beginning to cognitively realize the finality of her being gone…but it’s something that I simply can’t emotionally accept yet. It’s been a bit over 3 months and I know I should be facing things better yet I feel like I haven’t really even started the actual grieving process yet.

As always I decided to research all of this and after digging through mountains of material have come to understand that navigating grief when you have bipolar is a bit more difficult and can often lead to complicated grief…something I didn’t know anything about.

Honestly, I really hadn’t thought about bipolar affecting how one grieves and once I came across some articles I saw myself in them more and more…it actually makes me feel better just in the sense that what I’m going through is normal for my abnormal brain (hmmmm…confusing statement, huh?😳).

A wonderful article helped me understand that those with mental illness (or anyone!) often experience delayed grief which is basically when people postpone coping with the loss and not being able to grieve or actively suppress any emotion that begins to rise. (Repression and suppression are often used synonymously but repression is unconscious and suppression is conscious). Bipolar itself can force this delay simply because there is little space in our emotional world – it’s already filled. I never thought about this but I relate.

Depression is a huge part of complicated grieving anyway but exacerbated in those of us who deal with it regularly. Verywellmind.com lists signs that indicate complicated grief and although I have these now, actually diagnosing this states that the loss has to have been at least 6 months ago…so maybe I won’t experience this seriously since it’s only been 3:

Excessively avoiding reminders of the loss – definitely…although I have a lot of pics of ma around, it’s hard for me to actually look at them. O gave me a digital frame for Christmas last year and it’s on my kitchen table. I always used to have it on all day to see my fam, but now I just leave it off since ma is in so many of the stored images.
Obsessively thinking about the person – Hmmm…I don’t have this since I’m repressing every attempt to think about it…
Intense longing for the person – yep.
Feeling a loss of purpose in life – you know, this is a toughie. School has been amazing this semester and has given me a routine and a reason to get up everyday. But honestly, I’ve been teaching for a total of 32 years (including elementary) and had been thinking seriously about retiring. Now I’m not so sure…teaching is so much of my purpose and even though I love it so so so so much, I’m getting tired of the bureaucracy that’s inherent in any public institution. Decisions are made and edicts fall from the top when us faculty actually know how to do our jobs pretty durn well. I don’t need yet another meeting talking about syllabi or calendars…after 3 decades, I think I have it down pat. When ma was here, retiring was more enticing since I had her as a social support/best friend/travel buddy, etc. Now I feel like I’m just floating and if I don’t continue to teach, I don’t know what my life would look like.
Seeing proximity and reminders of things from the person – ma’s living room furniture fills my house now and it really does make me feel closer to her.
Suicidal thoughts – no.
Unable to accept the loss – yep.
Experiencing instrusive/persistent thoughts about the person – yep…when I’m least expecting to, I often find myself just thunderstruck by her…I never know when it’s going to happen.

The causes resound with me (and Terri as well) –

Unexpected death – ma was fine in June, hospitalized in July, and gone Aug. 2nd
History of mental disorders 🙄
Experience of more than 1 death within a short period – in fact, Terri lost the boy she was a private nurse for and who she considered a son while our aunt died 18 days before ma. Then, Terri’s mother in law died just a few weeks ago and is grieving that loss as well. She’s been through so much.
Not being present when the death occurred or being a witness to it – Terri was there when ma died and even though she’s a nurse, it was so traumatic for her. I wasn’t at the hospital that early morning (we took shifts) and although I didn’t want to see her actually pass, it’s almost unreal that she did. Yes, I saw her in the funeral home, but that was more surreal…doesn’t really make sense, does it?
Older females – well hell, that’s us. 🙄

Anyhoot, reading about all of this actually helped me a lot since it gave me some answers regarding this process and helped me understand how my mind is processing all of this. I totally understand that there is no ‘normal’ way to grieve and I also understand that everyone grieves at times in their lives. Terri and I talked about that the other day and said that we wouldn’t be able to stand this if it were one of our sons. And although we know we’re lucky that ma was very happy her last 12 years and didn’t suffer for an extended time, it doesn’t take the pain away from our own hearts. Yes, it could be worse. Yes, we were lucky to have her 76 years. But in the end, she was still our ma.

I’ve been wanting to post for a while but it’s so hard to motivate myself to just do it. It’s the same with running or getting some painting done around the house. Four months ago I was zipping around…so excited about all there was to do…and now I just dread having yet another task to complete.

I know this won’t last forever. I know that I’ll eventually work through this. I know I shouldn’t feel guilty when talking about this to others simply because I assume people are getting tired of my sadness. That’s actually a tough one for me. I have a couple of people I chat with outside of Terri and O, but I always feel like I’m burdening them if I’m down and need to talk…I hate feeling like that…I want to be the one to relieve others of their burdens.

And Terri and I also know this: we were so fucking (sorry, ma 🌞) lucky to have the mom we did. She was so so good to us and her love, support, care, kindness, unconditional acceptance, and the list could go on and on, is something we know not everyone has. We truly were blessed.

Love you ma. Love you more.

Kristi xoxo

“…or I might find out what it’s like to ride a drop of rain…” ~ Brad Paisley

Dear Ma,

So, where do I start? The hole that’s in my heart grows more and more as I come to understand that you are truly gone. Honestly, it takes my breath away and as much as I try to push down those feelings, I’m finding I simply can’t do that much longer. Ulcers, stomach pains, and headaches are telling me that I need to start what others call the ‘healing’ process. But to me, it’s not healing at all – it’s actually scarring which will be with me always and will still cause me pain when I bump against it. And you know, the funny thing about all of this is that the one person in the world who could comfort me best is you. You.

I feel so selfish though because I’m crying so much for me…for losing my support, my rock, my best friend, the person who loved me more than anyone else in the world ever has. Ma, I’m scared to be without you…so scared of what my life will be without you. I miss our Sunday lunches…our card playing…our trips…our eating Mexican and then getting too stuffed…our jokes…our conversations…our laughs. You always made me happy. Always.

Something else I’m struggling with is guilt. So much fucking guilt, ma…and it’s eating me up. What you went through with Richard is making me vomit whenever I think about it. I should have helped you more. Tried harder to get you away from him. Drug you to the police. Forced you to go to the DV shelter for help. There are so many ‘shoulds’ that I have running through my brain and they torment me. You always protected me and did everything you could for me and in turn, I feel like I failed you. Remember when I apologized to you in the hospital for this? I’ll never ever forget what you said to me: “Kristi, you did all you could.” I heard that ma…but just can’t believe it yet.

I also didn’t know how much you were drinking because you hid it so well. Sometimes I’d call you at night and knew you were drunk just because of your slurred words. But I truly thought those were one-offs…not a nightly thing. I’ve been going through tons of old photos and can now see the signs in your face during that time. And you know, I also see the difference in your eyes over time: I have a pic of you when you were with Richard (don’t worry, ma…he’s going to a very different place than where you are) and drinking, and your eyes are empty. Glazed. Vacant. After you left and settled in to what you call the best years of your life, they brightened and sparkled. What an awesome transition that is to see!

You know, I think a lot about your strength and class. I know you and pop divorcing was devastating for you. I saw your pain…your tears…and then your strength when you pulled yourself out and started to live again. Fighting back against Richard was horrifying; I remember you at the shelter as we were getting your OP and then going in front of the judge. You were shaking so hard beside me and grasping my hand to where I had indentations from your nails. But you persevered even with the fear of retaliation from him. And then you grew. And grew. And grew.

Your quilting business blew me away. Who knew you had such a keen business sense? What you built in the span of just a couple of years, and then worked at for over 15, was amazing. So many of your customers came to pay their respects to you, and Terri and I were so proud to hear them talk about your kindness…sweetness…talent…helpfulness. We were gobsmacked. You made such an impression on everyone you met and everything they said was true. Completely true.

So Terri told me what you said to her before you lost your ability to talk – “I want Kristi to be OK and I don’t want you to worry in your life.” Terri has been wonderful with me and has taken over the role of older sister seriously. We talk multiple times a day and are always checking up on one another. We’ve worked together on your house and haven’t had any sort of disagreement at all. We know you’d be proud. And when she came over the other day, she said “I’m going to hug you now!” Then we looked at each other and laughed. We both know Terri isn’t a hugger…but she knows how much I need that and is comforting me so much…I hope I’m doing the same for her. Little does she know she’ll be a champion hugger in a few months.

And ma, I know you wanted me to have your house but honestly, I just can’t do that. You are too much there and I don’t think I’d ever be able to move on to the degree I should in those surroundings. I would also feel like I was taking your place in a way…something no one could ever ever do. I do have your living room furniture though, and when I look at the chair you always sat in to read and sew and watch TV, I see you. In your jammies from Kohl’s with a scrubbed face and damp hair. I love that picture of you so much.

I talk to you everyday, ma and I hope you can hear my words…I know I can hear you. Understand that I’m never going to stop having you in my whole heart…never let go of your hand…never ever say goodbye. And when I see you again, I’d better get a damn big hug.

Thanks, ma. You were truly the best mom I could ever have. There are a lot of things that haven’t gone right in my life, but you were always there. Always. And having had that for all of these years makes up for anything else.

Love you ma. Love you more.

Kristi xoxo

“But there never seems to be enough time…” ~ Jim Croce

So, one day O’s dad came home from work when I was 8 months preggy and found me sitting on the living room floor shoveling Oreo’s down my gullet, watching All My Children, and bawling with umpteen parenting books spread all around and all open to different chapters. He sighed, stomped into my pity bubble, scooped up all of these tomes and proceeded to chuck them in our dumpster. And yes son, this is before us old folks regularly recycled.

Trust me, this was an act of mercy. I don’t know about you all but when anything happens to me, I turn to books to try to figure things out. The only problem with this is that every book has conflicting advice, ideas, and tips to use for such a task. For example, EVERY parenting book I was reading on that day of infamy said something different about ‘how’ to raise my baby. Every one. I was so befuddled I thought about calling my OB/GYN (who had the bedside manner of a turnip 😳) and telling him I was calling off this ‘birth thing’ that was ultimately B’s fault. But know what I figured out after being a new ma for a few months? That they were all right. And all wrong. And my job was to do the best I could with the personality of the little guy I had and hope for the best. Luckily, it worked. Very well.

And now? I find myself doing the exact same thing with books on grief. I’ve read tons of info on ‘how to grieve in the right way’ and if I put into practice all of these, I’d be once again bawling, watching soaps throughout my day (which I actually wish I could🤔 ) and gaining 10 pounds a week. Hmmm.

However, I have come across advice that does help me and while searching I found this from Everyday Health (paraphrased):

“Saying goodbye to a parent is a life-changing experience, marking the end of a bond we’ve known for our entire lives (Heidi Horsley, PsyD). Until it happens, we don’t know what our lives are like without our parents and to have them gone can be traumatic, whether it’s sudden or expected.”

“Our biological parents give us life, and the parents who raise us (whether biological or not) shape our lives in really big ways. They’re with us from day one, forming the foundation of our identity.” (Alexandra Kennedy).

Research show that people continue to report trouble sleeping, concentrating at work, getting along with people, and a strong emotional response one to five years after losing a parent. Other research suggests losing a parent puts someone at a higher risk of numerous negative mental and physical health outcomes, including higher likelihood of binge drinking, self-esteem issues, and overall decline in happiness. This evidence also reinforces that parents often play critical roles in our self-confidence and sense of purpose throughout our lives.
Carmen Chai

Honestly, reading this comforted me in a way nothing else has because it helps me to understand the gut-punchy feeling I’m walking around with and why I have such a hard time accepting ma’s death itself.

Ma really did play such a role in my self-confidence…no matter what else might be happening around me, ma ALWAYS supported me and believed in my abilities to handle whatever it might be. I did feel a sense of purpose being ma’s daughter…that was (and I guess still is) a HUGE status for me and at night, when I’m used to talking to her and reviewing our days together, brings that home to me. I know how much I needed her attention and love and how ‘less than’ I feel by not having it now. She made me feel like I was so important in her life too, and never passed up an opportunity to show her appreciation for me.

Crystal Raypole wrote a great article in Healthline and gave 10 ideas for how to navigate through grief which is a great compilation of advice I’ve read elsewhere. Some of these are easier than others…and some are going to take me a lloonngg time to either begin or traverse through.

The first couple are to both validate your feelings and then allow yourself to fully experience the grief. OK. These are the toughies. I keep apologizing to people for being in such a ‘sleep walky’ type of existence right now and when others ask me how I’m doing, I always say OK which is actually not the truth. I know saying fine isn’t true at all and saying horrible probably is a bit harsh to put on someone else, so OK is my go-to right now. However, a friend of ma’s, T’s and mine said this yesterday: “Fine simply means fucked, insecure, neurotic and emotional.” I guess with this definition, fine really does sum up my day to day right now. (Love you, Teeeny 💘)

And fully experience the grief? I think this is different for everyone and right now, I can only take it in dribs and drabs. I find myself vacuuming yet again when I feel these waves come upon me and I know that if I open that door, I’ll drown right now. I eventually will…but right that that tsunami would be way too much.

Caring for myself is one I’m working on and I definitely have support from the fam but what’s ironic is this: I get to crying over ma and start to call her so I can talk to her about it…after all, that’s what I always did when I was upset. What a tough habit to break.

Sharing and honoring memories is another idea and T and I are doing just that in a lot of ways. Ma made so many beautiful quilts and we have given a quilt to all of our family, ma’s friends and neighbors, and are going to have the rest professionally cleaned and then donated to the local Cancer Care center for them to give to those getting treatment. This is the same place where we asked for memorials and it honors ma’s 25 years of having been a cancer survivor. We know she’d love knowing others getting comfort from what she made. Every time we talk, T and I (and O and I too) share memories and some make us cry…some make us laugh. And you know, having T is a gift. Only she knows what I’m feeling since she’s struggling with it too…we are truly a team in this loss.

Finally, a suggestion I’ve seen in various places as well says to forgive the person for past wrongs, unresolved issues, etc. Here’s a true testament to ma: I don’t have any. I know people make the dead into saints when in fact, no one deserves that title. However, ma was an amazingly, perfectly imperfect parent and she was there for T and I no matter what. We were lucky that we got to talk to her so much up until a couple of days before she died, and at one point she tried to apologize to me for having married her ex husband (yes, he’s a fucking bastard and had he shown up at her funeral, my nephews and O were going to ‘escort’ him out 😠) and putting T and I through these horrible years of domestic violence and the abuse he heaped on us as well. I stopped her. I told her she didn’t need to apologize…she needed to absolve herself of any guilt she had towards us because he was the abuser…not her. And I know that she was the one that had to ultimately understand when she could get away from him with her life. How can we blame her for going through hell? I blame him.

Maybe I’m reading too much about this grief thing and maybe I think that by doing so, I’ll glean quick fixes to this shattered life. The best thing I’ve learned is this: it’s going to take a LONG time to grieve ma…I’m going to feel things in my own time and way…I’m going to have to re-learn life with having a ma in it…and I have to make sure that the life I have is lived to it’s fullest and the people who are in it simply know how much I love them. If T and I can both do this, I think ma would be proud.

Love you ma. Love you more.

Kristi xoxo

“Some people care too much. I think it’s called love.” ~ Winnie the Pooh

So, I’ve been reading through the 2 years of blog posts I’ve written and it’s funny to see how much my life has changed. What was such a big deal at one time is nothing now and I know that in terms of relationships and break-ups, time truly does heal all wounds. How weird to see people I thought were so important to me be nothing more than a blip now. It’s nice to know the heart really does have the power to mend in these cases.

Almost every one of my posts has ma in it somewhere…even if it’s just apologizing for saying fuck. But wanna be in on a secret? Ma used to say it too every once in a while…probably 3 times in her life in front of me and always laughed and turned red when she did. So many of my posts talk about the fun we had together, conversations we trudged through, trips we took, and the list goes on.

Even though I am still in shock and a bit of denial (T and I both share these feelings), I am starting to see her everywhere…metaphorically. I did dishes today and she was there…standing over my shoulder at holidays with pursed lips telling me I didn’t rinse a cup well enough. On my way to school I realized that EVERY single place I pass is somewhere ma and I went: restaurants, stores, thrift shops, etc. I ordered a couple of African Violets just now (my new obsession…gramma and ma both loved them and I’m feeling it too 🙂) and it made me think of when I was a little girl and she had yellow shelving pop put together for her with violets covering them. I know I got my green thumb from her. I put a book on reserve at our library and thought about how ma went there every single week for all of her adult life. Every week. She was a voracious reader and T and I share that trait. Her favorite thing was to soak in a warm bubble bath with a little bowl of chocolate covered anything and read and snack. When T and I are doing things in her house I see her at her quilting machine…cross stitching on the couch…making the best chili in the world.

I think about our inside jokes…how we used to sign greeting cards with funny names or things we’d say while playing cards. She had such a great sense of humor and ‘got’ me more than anyone else ever has.

How can you describe someone who was your world? What words can possibly illustrate the scope of her in my life? The place in my heart? The memories in my head? It’s such an indescribable feeling to not only lose someone you loved more than life itself but to have your world so shaken up. Turned around. Changed forever.

Being Prof K helps a lot during the day…it gives me purpose and direction during this time of numbness. My students are absolutely freaking amazing and are so sweet in how they’ll ask how I am. But when I’m at home? It’s like I’m sleepwalking through life outside of campus. I can’t sew. I don’t know if I ever will again…T can’t either and ma’s bestie said the same thing to me yesterday. I’ve been doing huge jigsaw puzzles while listening to audiobooks for something to focus on but I hear her voice in my head telling me to work on the border first. Even writing this is hard…not because of the content and the fact I’m crying, but because ma always read my posts. Always praised them. Always told me how proud she was of me.

T and I are taking things one day at a time and I’m focusing on being there for O…he loved his gramma so much. Even Edward and Mally run to the door when someone pops over and I can see sadness in Ed’s eyes when it’s not ma. There was nothing he liked better than trying to lick her ears when she was on the couch.

So many people at school who have lost a parent have sought me out and talking to them helps. One friend said that I’ll never ever get over the grief completely…never have my world the same way again…but that you learn to live with it. That it’s going to take me a while. I know that my heart won’t mend this time…it will scab over but the hurt will be there. Always.

Today, a friend told me a quote by Winnie the Pooh: “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” I was gobsmacked by this because it made me realize that ma was such an amazing person who I got to have for 55 years. But unlike Pooh, I’m never going to say goodbye. I’ll always talk to her. Always love her. Always miss her. And always work to make her proud.

I keep greeting cards I get and ma used to give me a lot of them. One of them I found said this: “You are loved and adored and I’m proud to be your ma.” What a great feeling to know she felt this way. What a gift. What a wonderful message that I can hold onto for the rest of my life.

Love you ma. Love you more.

Kristi xoxo

“Lean on Me” ~ Bill Withers

Dear Terri,

So, I know you don’t get quite as mushy as I do, but bear with me because I promise to make this as painless as possible! Anyhoot, I don’t know if you realize this but you are a great sister to me and always have been…right from the start.

Remember when I couldn’t talk at first before I spent a few years with the Speech Pathologist and no one could understand me well…including ma and pop? The thing is that you always could; so from the very beginning you had to help me by being my translator and my voice. I wonder why you could get my words when others couldn’t? Maybe because it’s just a ‘sister’ thing? Or maybe because as much as we’re different, we’re so similar too (except in the ‘chest’ department where you were blessed more than me 🤨)?

Almost every single picture I have of us as kids, you have your arm around me. Not just casual like, but grippy…possessive…like you were broadcasting to everyone that not only were you my big sis (remember, you are significantly older than me 😐) but my protector too. And you had a job with that, huh? Both of us were bullied in elementary school…especially by that kid ‘B’ who would not only taunt us at school but also follow us home while making our lives hellish for that 2 block walk. But honestly, you remember that better than I do because you shielded me from so much of it. You took the majority of the bullying and pushed me aside. That was such a selfless thing to do, particularly for a kid whose instinct is often to protect themselves first.

I loved it when we would go to gramma and grampas. Getting on the floor with gramma while playing triple solitaire and squawking when we beat her. Running errands with her in the VW bug and arguing over who got to sit in front. I know…I won most of the time since I got carsick so easily. It was either win or have you see me puke. I honestly think you dodged a bullet in that case. And then we’d spend the night and grampa would make us something special and always had teen magazines for us to read. I think we both felt so cozy and loved and sharing those memories of all 4 of us together makes me smile every time. They both would be so so proud of you for the grandma you are today and your grandkids are just as lucky to have you as we were to have our own.

Did you know I started getting jealous of you when you hit Jr. High? You got to go to a HUGE school and have a locker and have more than 1 teacher and ride the bus (which come to find out sucked balls😬 ) and then the best part: go to dances and get calls from boys and have secrets behind closed doors with your best friends. I wanted to be a part of that so badly! And, you were beautiful too! I know you’re shaking your head or rolling your eyes or retching right now, but I’m being honest. You were…and still are! Being the first to try make-up made me long to be older and acting as the guinea pig for your hair styling skills was fun…but to a point. That damn nozzle on your hairdryer would whack me in the nose everytime…and I know it wasn’t YOUR fault…it was the dryer itself…right (🙄)? You know, I just realized that may have been the cause of my deviated septum, and not the broken nose I had years ago. Hmmmmm…

(Did you know I saved all of the letters you wrote to me when I was at summer camp those 2 summers? I saved every one!) 🧡

I loved talking to your boyfriends and even keeping them company while you finished getting ready for dates. I remember when Ben and you were an item and had an argument: he called and I was so pissed he was fighting with you that I yelled at him and called him a ‘hoodlum’…the worst word I could think of at the time. You were gobsmacked I’d do this but here’s why: it was my turn to stand up for you! And a secret? I always had a HUGE crush on Jack. HUGE! I pictured you dumping him and then him looking at me, scooping me up, and carrying me off into the sunset like a prince. A prince in a cowboy hat no less. Did it matter that I was 12 and he was 16? Nope. I figured that would work itself out in time.

And for a couple of years, I was your voice too! Calling into the high school, pretending to be ma, and telling the secretary you were too sick for classes that day. How I wanted to play hooky with you and your friends! When I’d be sitting through yet another lesson on biology which I had absolutely no chance of understanding, I’d wonder what you guys were doing. Make overs? Talking about boys? Sneaking a smoke? Exciting stuff to a younger sister!

When you got married and left home, I missed you so much. The house seemed so empty. It was just ma and me and the vibe changed…the energy. That’s because you had brought it in. But it was exciting when A was born and I was an aunt. I could finally drive and loved visiting you in the country and playing with him. I can still see him on the walkway to your front door, riding his trike with his curly blonde curls bobbing up and down. Then when D was born and I was a bit older, I finally was comfortable changing his diapers and taking more care of him…that was so much fun for me and gave me the even bigger desire I had to be a mom myself. You are a great one.

Does this all sound too Pollyanna-ish up to this point? Like we never fought? Of course but these good memories stick out much better than the bad.

We fought like cats and dogs sometimes…we said things we didn’t mean…we did things we shouldn’t have to one another…and we sometimes couldn’t stand each other and made that clear. In other words, we were sisters. And yes, this sometimes still happens. But we always work through whatever it is and come out stronger on the other side. It makes these fights worth it just for that. BTW, the maddest I’ve ever been at you in my life was when you won the twisted balloons at the Mueller Christmas Party and you REFUSED to let me wear them. It still gets me going. 😬

I know you hear a lot about me being bipolar, especially since you read this and hear me talk about it with others. But I also know you battle so much with your own disorders too…after all, mental illness runs in our family and were both blessed to continue the tradition. Charmed, I’m sure.

The anxiety and depression you experience is horrible and I know your life has been affected by it in so many ways. We didn’t know much about mental illness when we were kids/teens…it just wasn’t talked about or recognized in younger kids. But our struggles were real…even if not always validated. I know these issues can cripple you at times and when they do and you reach out, I often don’t know what to say…because there’s no words that can truly help. It makes me feel powerless to protect you from this like you used to protect me from things. So we both listen to each other…commiserate with one another…and know that no matter what or when, we’re both there to listen. No matter what.

I know you’re hard on yourself for having anxiety and depression…in fact, we were talking about it this week. You said how you feel guilty for letting your grandkids see it…that you want to be ‘perfect’ like gramma and grampa were to us. But the thing is, you are. Your sweeties love you like no other and here’s what you’re teaching them by being who you are: that it’s ok to struggle…ok to express feelings…ok to say you need help. In other words, you are providing the example that being perfect isn’t possible, but being honest and true to yourself is. Think about how valuable of a lesson that truly is.

And today? You are still protecting me. Still keeping me in your grip. Still standing up for me and believing in me and loving me. In other words, you are still the sister I’m so blessed to have and my life would have been so lonely without you. I know this is getting long…and starting to get mushy…so I’ll stop here. But, just know that I love you. YOU. Imperfect, mentally ill, emotional YOU. Because just like you see the real me…I see the real you. And the vision that I see is wonderful.

Kristi xoxo