Posts Tagged With: I am not my feelings

grief is a dick punch

My mom’s been gone ten years this week.
I have more feels about this than I’d like.
It’s simpler to just kind of know intrinsically that she’s dead and not really think about it. Because when I do think about it, I mostly feel anger.
Ten years later and I’m still so fucking angry!
I’m angry she was sick and kept the secret. I’m angry at her for choosing to die.

Seventeen days between finding out she was sick to finding out she was dead.
Like, why am I surprised she was selfish? Why am I surprised she kept her declining health a secret? She was nothing but secrets.
Knowing she was who she was doesn’t make the anger any less.

I’m angry I barely got to see her.
I’m angry I had to rush to say goodbye.
I’m angry that helping her ridiculous husband manage his grief kept me from helping my daughters manage their grief.
I’m angry that my grief is more anger than anything.

I’ve worked through so many things in therapy.
Cleary this is not one of them…

TBPH though, most days I’m just a girl with no parents. And I’m OK with that. My anger spends the majority of my life taking a nap. But when it wakes, we just kind of fuel each other and feed off each other and I simply cannot believe things she said and did are still manipulating me. (Perhaps it’s that I’m letting them manipulate me…?)
Either way, I’m not feeling love for her. I’m not feeling sad she’s gone. I’m not nostalgic about her.
I’m feeling really fucking mad.

Feeling all this anger can’t possibly be good for me.
But I’m over here up to my ass in it.

My logical brain understands I need to let it go. (y’all hear Elsa too, right?) Send that anger on it’s way. Even if it’s replaced with nothing, that’s most likely better for me. To feel anything instead of anger, I’m here for it.
My feelings place understands I don’t feel that anger the majority of my life. That it flares up when I do stop to think about my mother’s death.

Our relationship, her life, neither of those had to end the way they did.
Her mom died suddenly when she was only twenty three years old.
My mom chose to die in secret and I found out suddenly when I was forty years old.
She knew what that was like. To lose her mom without warning. Why would she do that to her own daughter?
I don’t understand that kind of selfishness.
She was controlling the situation (and us in it) even as she was dying.
Talk about needing to let it go.
Just fucking be real with your children. We’re adults. We can handle it.

That’s not who she was.
She was a tyrannical dictator who ran her world with an iron fist.
She wasn’t about to give that up at the end of her life.

How disappointing.
She could have done it differently and we all could have felt our feels as we went.
Of course she wasn’t interested in us feeling our feels. To be fair, she wasn’t interested in feeling her own feels either.
It just occurred to me that she’d probably enjoy that I’m angry about her death.
That’s nearly enough to make me choose to never be angry about it again. Why in the fuck would I give her the posthumous satisfaction?

Interestingly enough, simply writing about it helped me feel less angry. (must journal more frequently)
I’m an orphan in this world. An adult child of deceased parents.
Most days I’m cool with it. I adapted. This is my life now.
But the anniversary of my mom’s death got me thinking.
And feeling.
That anger didn’t bubble up in a manageable way, it erupted like a volcano and I was simultaneously burning and drowning in the lava flow.
Somehow I survived and the lava is cooling.
I find myself wondering if this anger volcano can move from dormant to extinct.
I mean, time and work-of-self moved it from active to dormant…so that’s moving in the right direction, yeah?

I don’t know.
I can’t help but wonder if feeling angry is better than feeling unloved.

Grief is weird.
Sometimes it’s just a normal state of being.
Sometimes it’s a straight up dick punch.
I’m choosing to move back into ‘normal state of being’, this ‘dick punch anger’ is painful and exhausting.

That’s what life’s about though, right?
The choices we make.
I choose to feel my feels.
I choose to figure out how to process those feels.
I choose to acknowledge, accept-don’t-judge, and release those feels.

I do think it’s OK that I’m angry about the way my mom died.
I don’t think I need to let it consume me.
Look at me, over here growing.
Huzzah!

Categories: death | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

practice makes perfect or don’t come in here with your bullshit

If I learned anything this week, it’s that I must continue to work at accepting what I can’t change, paying attention to my feelings and behavior, and creating healthy boundaries.

I feel good that however wrapped around the axle I was in my frustration, I did not behave reactively.
I sat with my thoughts and feels and made an attempt to sort through them by writing.
I’m willing to admit I may have overreacted. But I did that in my head, and here on this blog.

To be perfectly honest, I’m not even mad about it anymore.
I’m concerned about the unfairness of YBW being taken advantage of, but trust he’s capable of handling it.
I’m concerned Thing 1 felt responsible for causing drama, but I was clear that I didn’t believe she was at fault.

I was mad because people I love were unfairly treated.
Do not fuck with my brood.
I am the mistress of all evil and I. Will. Cut. You.

But the reality is I cannot change anything about how anyone else behaved in the situation.
Only me.
I was respectful to Thing C as he was explaining the conversation with his mother. I was less respectful when YBW read the text from his ex.
I sometimes wonder if he tells me those things because he knows I’ll get fired up. And if I’m over here being mad AF, he can just breathe. He doesn’t have to get frustrated and angry with her behavior because he knows I’ll do it enough for everyone.
I don’t mean he does it purposefully, he may not even be aware that it happens.
But I know she frustrates him. I know he will sometimes feel angry about her behavior. But perhaps it’s simpler for him to not because I do.
I don’t know. I could be way off base.

I work very hard to walk my talk. And I’m committed to paying attention to what I can and cannot change, and accepting as much as possible.
So if I’m honest and unmerciful with myself, I have to admit I got more spun up than necessary.
I said more than once, I’m so tired of the drama.
YBW was over there like, only drama I’m seeing is you overreacting to this bullshit.
He’s not entirely wrong.
I didn’t start the drama, but I reacted to it.
I mean, I know why I did. I felt protective of my husband. I don’t think he gets treated fairly and I’m not afraid to say it.

I’m also struggling with being apart from him for Christmas.
Like I’m choosing Baby K over him.
Of course it’s not actually like that.
I’m stuck in my feeling place.

Can I control the situation? Perhaps not.
Can I control what I feel? Perhaps not.
But I can sure as fuck control how I behave based upon what I feel.

I said it just last week, we are not our feelings.
I am not my feelings.
I feel them. Oh, I feel the fuck out of them.
But I am not them.

I am working hard to pay attention, working hard to accept.
I realize not being able to change something might frustrate me, but doesn’t have to impact my behavior.
So I keep working.
Sometimes I’m better at it than others.
So, I practice.
They say, ‘practice makes perfect’ but what they mean is, ‘don’t come in here with your bullshit’.
And I’m coming in with my bullshit like,

Practice is life long.
I’m never going to be perfect. I’m going to do the best I possibly can.
That’s not me coming in with my bullshit. That’s me being self aware. That’s me doing the hard work of making a better me.
My me won’t be perfect. I don’t want to be perfect. I want to be the best possible me.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

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