The day before yesterday I found out my friend Noah passed away. Last month, it was my friend Janae. Both were people who meant a lot to me. People I should have known not to put off seeing. It would appear as if I never really learn my lesson.
Once, I was seeing a therapist. She told me I have had a lot of people close to me pass away. I was a bit puzzled by her theory. I just assumed everyone has had that many people they care about die. Apparently, that isn’t the case which is why I may have a harder time walking away from people in my life, even if they are lethally toxic to me. It also could be why I create so much havoc when I think someone I care about is going to walk away from me.
My grandma used to always say, “Never go to bed angry with the people you love. God forbid the day you do is the day one of them doesn’t wake up.”
I believe that statement has given me insomnia every time things aren’t perfect in one of my relationships.
My grandma was my best friend growing up. Sometimes she was my only friend. I never felt judged or insecure when I was around her. I felt like I could be me 100% and not have to hate myself for who I was, or who I wasn’t. I got teased a lot as a kid. I was overweight and kids loved to make fun of me for that. My grandma was also overweight, and our favorite thing to do together was stuff our faces without feeling guilty. Then we would give each other makeovers and have photo shoots as if there were nobody more beautiful alive on the planet than us.
I sure do miss my grandma.
Facing the death of anyone close to me has never been easy. For weeks, if not months, I feel paralyzed as if their death has ended my entire world. There is literally not much I am able to do but cry every minute I am awake. It’s impossible to even fathom the thought of life going on without them. I feel the same way when I end a relationship. It literally feels like my life has ended. People leaving me is the one thing I can’t seem to get a grip on. I lose it. I lose touch with reality. The pain I feel is crippling, and it happens every time despite whether they are gone because of death or circumstances that have just removed them from my life but not the planet.
I have abandonment issues… There, I said it.
So getting to the point, I am here to talk about my mother. Her name is Linda. I haven’t always had the nicest things to say about my mother. Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t. It has always been based on what kind of mental state I am in more than anything my mom did in particular. I haven’t always treated her the way I should have or gave her the credit that she probably deserved.
Despite what an asshole I can be, my mother is the one and the only person who has put up with my craziness and has taken all of my shit but still never left me alone. She has always loved me despite what a jerk I can be.
The truth is, I wouldn’t know how to survive without my mom. Not even for a second. My brother and my sister, they have learned how to take care of themselves. They have the skills and the confidence they need to know they can make it on their own. I, however, do not. I have literally never once in my life stood on my own two feet without the support of my mother, and I wouldn’t know how to make it on my own even if I were forced to. I would fall flat on my face. I guess I’ve just gotten comfortable assuming my mom would always be here for me, even though I may not always deserve it.
Now let’s talk about recent events. Unlike the rest of my family who may end up hating me forever, I know my mom will forgive me for the way I have been handling everything since the day we found out she has ovarian cancer. Believe me when I say that I haven’t been the greatest person on the planet in dealing with all of this, but I know my mom still loves me. Even if she never understands why. Even if she’s never told how I really feel. My mom loves me unconditionally.
The biggest problem I am having is this: if she leaves me behind and I am never able to find the courage I need to tell her how I really feel or why I have been acting the way I have, I will never be able to forgive myself. I will hate myself for the rest of my life, and there will be nothing I am able to do about it. She deserves better than what I have been able to give her. But despite knowing all of that, I am still too paralyzed to do anything about it.
That’s just one more reason why I can’t even process the thought of living my life without my mother.
I just couldn’t do it.
Looking at her is hard. I want to cry every time I see her. At first, I was brushing everything off. I assumed she would be OK because there was no other option for me. Once I realized this might be serious, I was being ignorant about the situation. I didn’t know much about ovarian cancer. I assumed it was just like uterine cancer, which most overcome without too many problems. Then one night I was telling my friend Kim about everything going on, and as soon as I said “ovarian” I could tell by the look on her face that this was a lot more serious than I had anticipated.
I hate having conversations about my life with people that cause them to get that look of pity on their faces. That look that says “Oh my God, I am so sorry. You poor thing. I don’t even know what to say.”
What that means is that there is a problem I am not going to be able to fix. It means I am about to face some shit that I won’t be able to do anything about. It means there are situations which are about to hurt me so bad that they change me in ways I will never be able to reverse.
I hate people’s pity. It means shit just got real. It means I can no longer hide from the situation, or pretend it doesn’t exist. Hiding and pretending are my favorite go-to moves when dealing with situations I can’t fix.
I came home that night and the more research I did, the more my heart sank into my stomach. I haven’t left my room much since that day. I have been trying to distract myself by remodeling everything in sight, but every five minutes I have to take a sob break and I can’t seem to do anything distracting enough to make those go away.
My sister said I should write about my experience. Writing usually helps me sort through any mess I’m usually stuck in. I’m not sure this mess is anything that can be sorted through though. This is one of those messes that end up sticking with you for the rest of your life and you just have to learn how to live with it.
Nothing I can say about this situation will help it. I would like to say that maybe one day writing about it will help someone else, but I know it won’t. There’s no happy ending, no hope to be had, no inspiration to find here. I can’t give anyone a reason to “Hold on and stay strong,” because, despite the outcome, this is a shit situation that nobody should ever have to go through. This isn’t going to change my life for the better. It is only going to damage me in ways that I am not prepared for.
The best I can do here is be real. Maybe let people know they aren’t alone, and they aren’t wrong in hating every bit of this whole process.
I’m not sure how to deal with this. If I lose my mom, I will lose myself. It’s not just her life on the line. It is also my own. The whole situation is complete bullshit, and I couldn’t be doing any worse of a job dealing with it than I have been. I sit here locked in my bedroom, crying every minute of every day feeling scared, lost, helpless, and confused. I am unable to face the fact that my mother is in the other room about to face the battle of her life, and I am too weak to even look at her without falling apart. Why can’t I get myself together for her? Life without my mother is the one weakness I can’t overcome. This nightmare is my kryptonite.
I started this blog because I needed help. Maybe someone else needs help as well. I doubt it will help anything though. It just is what it is, and with that I will let it be.
I will say if you follow this blog because you are looking for real, then you came to the right place. As far as hope or inspiration goes, this is about as inspiring as I am going to get with this. I just can’t give you something that does not exist.