Grief and The Pain of Mother’s Day

Time is meaningless, it flies by and it stands still.  Time is not kind, in fact, it’s kinda cruel.  It’s almost Mother’s Day, the day set aside to honor one’s mother.  Honoring one’s mother is a personal preference; not all mothers are worthy of honor, or respect, or love.  I don’t know what it’s like for someone on Mother’s Day, or any other day, to have a mother they would rather forget.

I have been fortunate to have a good, kind, and caring mother.  She will be gone two years shortly after Mother’s Day.  As if Mother’s Day doesn’t hurt me enough by her absence, I have the anniversary of her death to look forward to two weeks later.

The expression “time heals all wounds” is a lie.  Time has not dulled the pain I feel.  It has not lifted the fog I sometimes find myself in and it has not healed my loss.    I miss my mother the same today as I did yesterday and will tomorrow.  My grief doesn’t recognize a clock and it has no expiration date.  It just is. It ebbs and flows in a cycle beyond my control.

I love and honor my mother no less on the other 364 days of the year.  I honor her in the memories I recall, full of life’s laughter and tears.  I honor her in the respect I have for all she did for me throughout my life.  I honor her by striving to live true to the lessons, wisdom, and morals she instilled in me.

Yet Mother’s Day was and still is special to me.  I took pleasure and care to reaffirm my love and gratitude to my mom.  Whether I was near or not it was something I looked forward to doing.  It didn’t always have to be a brunch, a gift, or even a visit but it was always special words and a special heartfelt expression of love.

I still honor that tradition,  just in a different way and right now with more sorrow than happiness because I miss her so much.    Although I know I will always miss her,  I hope one day those emotions will reverse, but that time hasn’t come yet.

My mother lives in my heart, where she guides me through the pain of grief, and it’s there I honor her every moment of every day.

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I Am Not My Illness, I Am Michael

I started blogging about my illnesses with trepidation a little over a year ago.  Blogging has a degree of anonymity, like most things on the internet.  One doesn’t necessarily have to reveal their identity if they choose not to.  I chose to keep things at arms length.

The more I have written and as my blog morphed into more than just writing about my illnesses, the more at ease I’ve become sharing some of my personal details with the blogging community.  I have shared some of my treatment experiences, symptom manifestations, and how I live daily with Anxiety disorders.  I’ve shared the things I like in nature, photography, and poems I’ve written.  I’ve even posted about my dog.

I still have panic attacks, I still suffer daily with Anxiety, the intensity of which varies day to day and moment to moment.  I still have nightmares and flashbacks, I still have PTSD.  I still have depression.  I named my blog based on how I felt these illnesses effected me and about my continuing journey living with them.

I know there is more to me than my illnesses.  I hope I have convened as much in my posts.  Since I started interacting more with others in the blogging community I find people addressing me as “demons”.  The demons are still by my side but they are not me. I am Michael.

Caught In A Web Of Fear

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I am caught in a web, a web of deception and lies, a web of fear.  It whispers constantly in my ears; no, can’t, don’t. Danger is everywhere. I lay in it’s web, paralyzed by the anxiety fear has wrought. I know fear lies; yet I still lay motionless as it creeps closer, ready to spin me ever tighter in its never-ending cycle. I am it’s prey, helplessly stuck, just waiting for it to feast upon me.

One Less Birdsong

The grey and yellow little bird lay dead, cradled in the grass. It’s song forever silenced.  Tears welled as I removed the delicate creature fallen from flight. I’ve thought about the bird all day with a feeling of heaviness in my heart, as I do for all creatures of the universe.  Perhaps finding this lifeless bird signifies an end and a new beginning of something for me.

If it’s death was to portend for me then I am grateful for it’s sacrifice, but tomorrow when I listen to the birdsongs I will know there is one less song being sung.

 

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Heal is a Four Letter Word

via Daily Prompt: Heal

To heal implies a resolution of a condition or a disappearance of a wound.  To heal implies a cure, a complete reversal of illness.  It’s my experience and opinion that we never truly heal from a mental illness.

Mental illnesses like depression, anxiety disorders, and PTSD don’t disappear.  Symptoms may diminish and sometimes we can learn how to carve out a way to live day by day with them, but we are not healed.  We are altered, forever changed by the experiences of pain, trauma, and the uncontrollable emotions these illnesses inflict.

Everyone’s experience is as unique as a cloud in the sky.  Our illnesses manifest individualized and fluid.  Each of us rides the wave knowing that when the next wave comes we will be changed.  Hopefully we can ride the latest wave with more balance and skill.

We may improve and our demons become less visible, but we never heal.