Wednesday, June 17, 2009

quiet day.

didn't hear from her at all today. a coworker mentioned she had called the store and left a paranoid message last weekend but she (the coworker) didn't want to upset me. predictably, i then felt like crap for the rest of my shift.

trying to figure out how to find people going through the same thing. web searches don't seem to come up with anything useful other than a forum on shizophrenia.com. i thought about sharing this blog with my facebook friends, but then realized i would be censoring myself all the time as a result. and i don't want to censor myself anymore than necessary. 

this is supposed to be my own private outlet. 

where i can say things like: 

[sometimes i wonder if my mother's death would be an easier kind of grief, if only because there would be some kind of closure possible.]

where i can write things like: 

[in a morning light,
small creases
looking back in a rearview mirror
on the way to her family
feeling the guilty weight of my mother not being there
and the unbearable relief of my mother not being there. 
self-portraits caught in moments of not knowing
where i'm going next,
but revelling in the suddenly grown-up feeling
i have swirling around my ankles

like a skirt my mother
might have worn.

i feel my twentyfifth year
flowing as a cadence
a sweet song beginning
and ending
with faith
determination

and a grace 
being taught
in the boughs of brooklyn.]

this is my own little anonymous space. and that's how i need it to be right now.

1 comment:

  1. Your first sentence I've thought also, many times. I then just brush it away. It's like a never-ending grief that follows you wherever you go, because she's your mother, she's a part of you. That doesn't get forgotten so easily.

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