Monday, March 10, 2008

Feeling Introspective

A blogger I love recently wrote about blogs losing that certain something. Every blog has something that makes it unique. It might be a writing style, a way with words, a talent for laughter, or inspiring photography, or just an undefinable something that brings you back day after day. Sometimes blogs get boring. The spark that caused you to bookmark the site is missing. Something has changed and the difference is bad.

I'm afraid I've lost my spark.

I've gone through something. I thought I was sad when The Greatest lost his job. I thought I would never be the same when we had to sell our home. I grieved when my best friend moved away. I thought I was bereaved the day the dryer broke and The Greatest lost his job again. But that was all nothing. Those were blips in my life that changed the course our life was taking, but it didn't change me. Not the way I changed when my Mom died.

I'm sad. And I'm sick of pretending nothing has changed. There is an unfillable void in my life now. There's a corner of my soul that will never be bright again, no matter how happy I am with the rest of my life. The Greatest can always get another job. We have never been homeless, we've always found another place to live. But I can never get another Mother, nor do I want another Mother. I miss my Mom.

I'm sad that my Mom will never smile at Sweet Pea. I'm sad that my Mom didn't get to see The Greatest graduate from the Academy. My Mom won't be there next month when my Sister gets married. There are milestones of life that won't be shared with her, one of my best friends. These milestones will come and go with joy, but there will be an empty spot where she should be. When will the urge to call and share my day with her go away?

I was digging through the archives of my blog looking for something and I was amazed by the changes my blog has gone through in the past year and a half. Heck, I wrote it and I can see the glaring difference. I miss that girl who started this blog. That girl always had hope. She laughed at herself. She had the eternal love of Boyd. I liked her a lot.

I'd like to bring that girl back. I'd like to laugh at myself again. I'd like to not hide my bad days. I'm not healing because I'm not acknowledging the big elephant in the room. If I don't make fun of the fact I've worn my pajamas for five days in a row, how can I laugh at myself on the sixth day when I pull on yet another pair, instead of crying on the sixth day as I pull on yet another pair.

(And for the record, that's an example, I am not in fact wearing pajamas today. Instead I am wearing my fat girl uniform of black velour pants, hoodie, and brightly colored t-shirt, some articles of which may still be maternity although I am in fact not pregnant. But my post-baby body issues are a topic for another time, I'm trying to be deep today)

I don't know where I'm going with this. It's probably Easter that's brought this melancholy all out. I used to love Easter. It has the best candy, with a heavy emphasis on chocolate. And the candy is brought to you, no work gathering it up like Halloween. Some nice bunny brings it right to you. And did you know my love of bunnies runs deep? Someday I'll tell you the tale of Georgia Anne and Mr. Rustle. I used to love Easter. I want to enjoy Easter. But it too is tainted with a black void that Snicker eggs just can't fill. Not even the Sweet Tart Bunnies and Chicks can brighten the darkness (although they might be contributing to the fat girl uniform). And until I can laugh at the dark, I fear I won't find my spark.


Bezzie said...

Wait, those Sweettart bunnies and chicks have fat? Hm, that explains one of my buttcheeks.

But seriously, I know exactly what you speak of--not that I've seen it in your blog, but I know that elephant feeling.

Charity said...

Sometimes, I find it helps just to acknowledge it - and as hard as it is to believe, I am sure that girl will be back. Hang in there.

Anonymous said...

I love this girl who is sometimes sad, sometimes introspective, and always finding her way. You are a great mom, a wonderful friend, and a writer with a unique voice. I find something to giggle at in every one of your blog posts. You may not always feel like it, but what you say matters and is important. You are the same girl who started this blog. The spark is there, though you may not see it right now.

In the meantime, saves some Snickers eggs for us, my precious, yes, for us.

Tammy said...

I'm so sorry. Does it help to know that I consider pajama pants perfectly suitable household attire? But velour sweats are my first choice.

You've had a lot going on over the last year, and have a wee one in the house is draining in itself. Time will bring comfort and a fresh perspective. In the meanwhile, be gentle on yourself.

Stephanie said...

You are an amazing woman whom I have tried to be like in several ways. I have always admired your strength and abilities. You always have a friend in me if you feel the need to vent, talk or cry.

Laura said...

Though I'm only one of those people who rarely comments, I've been reading your blog for over two years now. And while I don't know you, I know the bits you choose to share, and I enjoy reading all of them...even when, like today, they make my heart break. I hope you realize how gifted with words you actually are. You've managed to put into words some of what I've been feeling since my surrogate mom died in December (6 weeks after her cancer diagnosis). The disconcertedness of life and grief make so little sense, and society gives us almost no guidance for how we should deal with such loss. I know that I'll never be the same as I was before last fall...and I don't yet know what that means. I do know that sometimes what makes me feel more like "me" is when I can help someone else, even if it's hard for me right then. So if there's any comfort in knowing that someone else has read your words today, and they've made a difference to her, I wish you that comfort, that peace, and more.

shiguy4076 said...

oh,mama I'm so sorry. I so enjoy reading your blog and I miss you. I do laugh a lot at it and the girls love seeing your little ones.
Just know that I am thinkign of you.

Candyce said...

No, you will never be the same...but you will still be you. The part your Mom had in forming and developing you will stay true. And you will tell your children stories of her and help them to know her through your eyes.

I look every day into your blog and just love reading it. You have such a wonderful family. You have not lost your touch--your blog makes me smile over and over.

It is a terribly sad thing to lose one's mother young. There it is. And you will have times where it is overwhelming. But you will still have happy, special times. I promise!

Candyce...who enjoys your blog very much.

Anonymous said...

In so many ways you are your mother. This is good. As is i cherish every blog you do I see so much of your mother's wit, warmth, style, and grace. Molding and crafting words with heart and feeling. You say sometimes exactly how i'm feeling, but just can't put into words. The spark is a beautiful beacon lighting up lifes with words of encouragement, and laughter. Even when things are the darkest, your light shines in ways you may never see. You give hope as you share your feelings. Maybe i'm not so bad after all, because someone else understands the way i'm feeling.
Gramy will be a cherished name. More so as you write, and tell your stories about her. She lived a great life, and left a wonderful legacy behind, with you and your brothers and sister. The Grand children that did know her will never forget her. The new ones will have you and your brother's, and sister's wonderful tellings of her your life and the warmth, compassion, and feelings you had with her.
so Celebrate.....................
Break out the peeps, marshmellow eggs, jelly beans and sweet tarts.

Keep the miracle going that is Family.


Anonymous said...

Yes it sucks. But, look around and see how much love is still there for you. Try to let people be there for you and to love you. Don't push them away, because they are here and your mother is gone. Be the person in real life, that you are on your blog, and reach out with love instead of regret and anger. Don't judge with anger, hatefulness, and hurt, because you are greiving. Give life and people a chance. You may be suprised at how good it feels to live again. Losing a parent is an awful thing and it hurts like heck, but don't miss living. Your mom would not be happy if she knew you were not grabbing at life.