loss

#25 Heartbreak Rehab

Everyone of us has been there, fighting, unraveling, fighting, distance, fighting, disconnect, fighting, fighting, fighting, fighting, over. The usual milestones become your heartbreak landmarks, if you are the one being broken up with your pain comes immediately as opposed to the person breaking up whose pain comes later. I was the one being broken up with so that’s what I will write about.

In my younger days I lacked compassion, understanding and at times kindness. I was quick to walk away from people mostly relationships, quick to find flaws and short comings and quicker to decide I wouldn’t put up with it. How times have changed, I’m a little older, wiser and more loving. I learned to be compassionate, I learned to love unconditionally and I learned to accept the person for who they are and where they are. The problem is I keep picking people who aren’t able to offer me that same level of commitment and emotional maturity.

The first of the two recent breakups with the same guy lead way to the same healing process. Cry, tell friends, cry, YOGA, listen to sad music, YOGA, cry, MEDITATE, talk with friends. Suddenly you have an awakening, it comes one day, unexpectedly, like a fire alarm that is pulled at an elementary school. Sadness turns into… ANGER… RAGE….DESTRUCTION….
Your script is rewritten from “I loved him so much, I miss him or I miss how he….” to

“THAT FUCKIN PIECE OF SHIT PUSSY ASS WEAK SELFISH NO MONEY HAVING SCARED AFRAID OF LIFE NOT SHOWING UP FOR ME MOTHER FUCKER”, or something like that.

After turning that corner you become a woman on mission posting things on your Instagram like “A weak man can’t love a strong woman, he doesn’t know what to do with her.” While at this moment it makes me laugh that I would post such a thing, I was pissed and in the moment, trying to, from a distance, flip him the bird. I packed his shit and sent it off, I began slowly deleting him from my life. I find more odds and ends of his and quickly box them up and send it off.

“FUCK HIM, WEAK, WEAK, WEAK, can’t stand up for himself at work, didn’t paint his kitchen for 5 year left it in disarray, needing reassurance 24 mother fuckin’ 7, letting himself be led around by the opinions other have of him, only able to relate to someone when he is being a people pleaser god damn unmotivated wanna be one of the cool kids high school nerd complex having semi grown up fuck.”

Fast forward to my rehab. Now today I am happy really genuinely happy I wasn’t before but now I see how wrong he was, how unhappy I was and other discoveries about who he really was and what we really had as opposed to what I wanted and what we were pretending to establish.

In breakup rehab you can do a lot of things, some people write songs, poetry, travel, get a fuck buddy, meditate, drink, get depressed etc. My poison? is to write. Write it down, get it out, talk about myself and him in the most transparent way I can. I will be writing using the questions I received in meditation. To examine myself and the bigger picture. I learned a lot during our time together, our brief two week break up, our 3 month reconciliation and second breakup. I have never been so vulnerable in any other relationship in my life. That is hard, that is brave, that is scary. It was good even though I had heartache in the end. I dared to be raw, I dared to love unconditionally, I dared to give wholeheartedly. I am proud of myself for that. I tried to fix it, I tried to convince him not to give up and I gave all I could.

In the end it is best that he still left because I should never have to convince anyone…anyone to want to fight for me, for my love, for my heart. Did you hear that ladies? NEVER CONVINCE ANYONE TO FIGHT FOR YOU. My healing has started and I explore myself, not so much about him, or always about our relationship but rather me.

Over the next few weeks I will think, reflect and explore the following questions that I received from a teacher. This teacher is someone I practice meditation with and while I would normally refer to him as a GURU he prefers guide. Below are the questions from my guide that I will ponder/encourage you to ponder if you have your own rehab program to work for any reason.

1. What is great about my life right now? What am I missing?

2. If I had all the money (resources, love) what would I be doing on a daily basis?

3. What is my prime motivation now? What is holding me back?

4. What part of my heart am I listening to? What am I blocking?

5. What are my joys in life? What do I feel sad about? What am I angry about?

6. What am I shameful about? What am I guilty about?

7. How do I feel about my sexuality? What is enjoyable? What is missing?

8. What are some beautiful memories? What do I want to forget?

9. What drives me? What is holding me back?

10. What keeps coming back to me? Good things? Bad things?

11. How worthy do I feel about being loved and receiving affection?

12. How do I feel about my friends and family now? What is enjoyable? What is missing?

13. Who am I judging? Who is judging me? Who do I need to forgive? What should I forgive about myself?

Taking the plunge head first, I’ll learn how to swim in the process.

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And the other shoe drops….. #18

The weird thing about my stories is that they have a reoccurring theme, I suppose most people’s do.  Mine I think maybe grinding  to a fine point so sharp that you almost can’t even feel the pain.  It is so close to unbearable.  I wonder if it’s my therapy of sorts,  I suppose writing is for most people.

I have started similar entries in the same way, reviewing my list of loss, be it people, relationships, pride, happiness, love,  a sense of myself, friendships,  self-reflection.   Heartbreaking.  Other losses have included the weight of the world on my shoulders,  people who haven’t loved the real me, responsibility, hurt, disappointment, selfish people,  hurtful people,  being under appreciated and minimized.  Heart mending. So I guess it balances out, I suppose it always does.   In my effortless quest to gain balance by controlling nothing I again find myself hurdled over an arch that for a short time I doubted I would clear.  On December 2 , 2013 the day before my deceased brothers birthday, my mother passed away.  December seems to be a fuck of a month for me, well my family and as you know they always seem to find themselves into my life.  December 2009 6 months after my dad passed away I was the last vote to remove my brother from life support and finally let him drift away.  My brother’s birthday is at the beginning of the month  my mother’s birthday is in the middle of the month and now like 12th month bookends my mother and brother’s death sandwich these 31 days.     In the typical lay out of my tragic events I tend balance the heartbreak and heart mend because of course with an enormous loss I also grow and cultivate a new relationship.  Enter M.  He first contacted me on October 19 on OKCUPID  late I was tired and wet, cold after the last Fire game of the season when a message came through that although short and simple made me laugh and smile.  I read the profile and knew within the first paragraph I would return the email despite never responding to people who lived far away.  The head turner ? his statement that he didn’t shy away from difficult conversations.

I played my favorite game of a  version of twenty questions.  He was game and he was good at it, very good as good as I am.  He was funny, and random, quirky, insightful, romantic, original, old school with and open mind, a quick wit and engaging.   We spoke till almost 2 in the morning before saying goodnight. A day later he wrote me again and the conversation led to us exchanging numbers and the next night texting which eventually led to a first phone call.

Right now at this very second,  I realize, I don’t even remember our first conversation.  That’s so weird but when I ask myself why, I realize this, I realize I never had a “first conversation” with this guy.  We have always spoke as if we have known each other, no awkward silences, no weird uncomfortable pauses, exchanges or realizations, never wishing I could hurry and get off the phone.   I can’t remember our first conversation because we never had one,  from the beginning it was Kismet.

Everyone once in a while you meet someone and you instantly connect like literally lock into each other like to pieces that snap together and, well, it feels easy.  I wonder how this ends up being my karmic path but it is and here I am.  To say I wasn’t close to my mother is an understatement but there was still a pang of tightness to my chest,  a great sense of loss and true sadness.  I’m sad we weren’t close and were not able to mend our relationship but I feel like I had already partly lost her and mourned that loss on and off for many years.  The role of mother that was never quite fulfilled by her but yet she still carried that title that position in my life.  The truth is I will only ever have one mother and she is completely gone now no longer a name or word or person I was reluctantly tethered to through my adulthood.   With that said I was forced to look around at my siblings, my sisters who all in some fashion and who all at different points in my life and theirs were mothers to me. Very different, very unique, teaching me things and in their own ways offering me support.  At times being the only true mother I had emotionally.  I had hoped this would draw us together but as is typical in my family it is pulling us apart, hurtful things brewing, selfishness, greed and mistrust.  My two oldest sisters cleaning out my mother’s house without myself and my other sister was probably the last dividing factor between us.

So here I am, during the 12th month sandwiched between the inter relation of heart ache and heart mend, which I suppose many people experience during this time of year for a variety of reasons, I wonder if their reasons repeat as mine have or is there yet a lesson I haven’t grasped or allowed myself to be submerged in.

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8/15/12 The long and winding road #16

This indeed has been along road I have traveled. When I first starting writing this blog I was getting over two majoy deaths in my family and a major break up and the death of my dog.  Lately I have been wondering what is next in life but rather than worry about my future I will now just really discuss and write about my present.  That will basically involve funny or not so funny stories about my friends some new some old, soccer games, work and last but not least my dating life which has consisted of an almost date with a vampire but I just couldn’t go through with it and a date with an unexpected “lifestyles” expert….yes it’s what you think.  Before I move on to a very different flavor of stories I want to thank a few people who I love and who have been or who are a big part of my life and were there when I needed support the most.

Mary C, Kellie L, Nizzi, Gabriela V, my vet, my ex at times, my second ex after “the” ex, a yoga teacher, my boxing coach, Clarke, Smitty, Dawn C, Unz, Psher, Lucy, TBear, Becks even through her own battles, any book written by Susan Jeffers. You all are my blessings in life thank you.

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4/1/12 Breathing is not optional/15

Chest pain….breathe……pain in my lungs…..hard to breathe…..nauseous… gasp….ouch….ugh…….gasp…..

I’m fighting the feeling of wanting to puke, my chest hurts, I’m holding something in, it wants to explode it wants to release,  it’s literally building up in my throat, I can’t breathe, the words are hardly coming out……

Yes, Yes, I’ll call the lawyer tonight and leave my information tonight and follow up on Monday. The conversation fades in and out of my ear my sister is saying things but I’m not hearing it all,  just ….Lawyer, call, money, just us sisters, not mom…….

My sister Lucy called me and I missed the call, for some reason I just felt a weird sick response, my sister calls sometimes but this time the missed call made me feel weird made me feel like something was happening.  I took a deep breath and peed siting on the toilet I was thinking that it might be my mother, that this might be the, THE CALL that is the one that ends the existence of my parents on this earth.  I’ve been through it before when my niece had to tell me my dad died.  I picked up the phone and dialed my sister Lucy….waiting waiting waiting CALL FAILED, shit this damn service if I had to call and ambulance to save my life TMOBILE would see to it that I would die before receiving help.  I dial again CALL FAILED, I turn off my phone and turn it on again, dial and wait as I stretch my arm up hoping that will help. I hear a ringing.

Hello?

Hi it’s me what’s up?

I called you earlier and left a message

Yeah I know what’s going on?

How are you?

I’m good what did you need?

Betty called me and she wants your address and phone number, I don’t know if you are talking to her….her voice fades

Yeah I am talking to her why does she want to my address

I don’t know

ok.

I can call her and give her that information or you can….. she interrupts,   I would just just prefer if you call her

(I am assuming she has mail that needs to be forwarded to me) What does she need it for?

You should just call her and talk to her

This is now beginning to sound ominous. We talk about possible Easter plans and she invites a boyfriend that I am no longer dating I say no but I appreciate that she has extended the offer to him. He would probably come if I asked him to he is like that.  We wrap up the conversation with a promise to touch base on times for Easter.

Dial my sister Betty it rings and my brother-in-law picks up I say hi and ask for my sister. She gets on the phone and we exchange pleasantries and then I say Lucy said you needed my address what’s up? She begins to explain.

We got lawyer and he is working on claiming Tony’s 401k  for us, if we don’t claim it the state will keep it and it will be lost.  This doesn’t include the nieces or mom just us. Just us girls, just the sisters.  It’s been over a year so the creditors can’t touch it but if we don’t act now the state will get it.  So we have to claim it and he needs each one of ours information.

Ok I say and repeat the information back making sure I understood everything. I say for us? for the sisters right? she says yes and says again not for mom in a way that tells me she doesn’t want her to know. She says  “I don’t know if you are talking to her..” I interrupt “No, I’m not” she says “good I don’t want her getting involved”. I say everyone’s names out loud again to confirm I ask if she has spoken to my sisters. She says yes.

She gives me the run down and the information of the person I need to call and I have a sick feeling creeping up I can’t get off the phone fast enough.  The second I do it all comes pouring through.  I begin sobbing, I feel like I’m going to be sick all over the kitchen, my head pounds, my chest tightens, I sob and wail harder and harder and harder.  I walk to a chair in the front room and with my elbows on my knees I cover my face and cry into the mask of my hands. Tears and snot drip from my face, I feel like I can’t breath, my chest feels tight, my ear hurts, I feel dizzy, I’m loud, I cover my eyes with the backs of my hands and gasp for a breath, it’s hard to breath, my chest hurts, I get up to walk toward the bathroom my hands on the walls keeping me balanced and upright as I walk, entering the bathroom I lean over the sink and cry harder and louder I slide to the floor and struggle to catch my breath between sobs.  I feel like throwing up I feel like I’m having a heart attack, I feel like the day I finally let the grief out and allowed myself to mourn the death of my brother.  This time the difference is that I physically feel ill, I feel like I can’t breathe, I feel like my chest is tight, I feel like I need to throw up and I can’t stop crying, loud and hard.  My hands and arms twist around covering my eyes, face head and chest at times.  I can’t make it stop. I can’t make myself stop and I don’t know why this is all coming crashing back in this way. I feel so dizzy I think I might have to go to the hospital, I struggle to breath and think I maybe hyperventilating.  Several minutes go by like this and I can’t regain control or calm myself. 15 minutes feels like 15 hours.

Why? this reaction? I’m not even exactly sure. My niece had a meltdown when she inherited money that my brother had left her she felt guilty, bad or undeserving that she should have this because the reason she was getting it was his death.  I don’t think I understood it when she told me, I knew it made her sad but I didn’t understand the depth of that. It’s hard for me to feel good about this at all on any level, it’s hard for me to think about this, it makes me feel like I’m right back at square on with the progress I’ve made in moving forward after his death.  I never suspected that all those wounds would be ripped open like this again from such and event.

The last 2 days more of his songs have came on and I skipped through them rather than listen through them I always believe he is around me and trying to communicate with me but I rushed those songs through and didn’t listen and today he was finally heard.

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12.1.11 Ready or Not Here I Come/9

Hmmmm well just when you think you have a firm grasp on something it slowly and quietly begins to unravel from your hands.  The reason you held it so tight in the first place is because as it gets away from you it becomes messy.  Messy, hard to control, hard to compartmentalize, distance yourself or worse yet protect yourself from. This is what December is for me. All the clichés of people sad around the holidays, all the statistics we hear about suicides, divorces, family violence…Merry Fucking Christmas right?

The little hole in my heart is from losing my best friend 2 years ago and being so blind with grief that I did not even see, experience, acknowledge, process or so much as sniff, lick or suck the grief. I mean it was non existent but yet so present and obvious in my face, my life.  It weighed me down like some suit that’s too big for you.

2 years ago my brother died but even that is so fucked up because the truth of the matter was we decided to take him off of the life support he was on that was keeping him alive.  I got a call from my sister asking me what I wanted to do. My mother wanted to have everyone’s input before removing him from the machines that were keeping him alive.  So everyone was already there at the hospital except me so basically I was like the 12 juror deciding my brothers fate, fucked up huh? I even remember saying “What? so I’m making the call my vote is the deciding factor? This isn’t god damn Survivor.”    “No No it’s not like that, mom just wanted everyone to be ok with it and be able to say for themselves.”  I was quiet for a moment then blurted out a string of question in one breath ” What are the chances of him recovering? What did the doctors say? How long has he been breathing assisted? Are there any signs of brain activity?”  “What about?”  “What if ?” “How come ?”

Her answers grazed over my head, they flew by at first but slowly suspended themselves  in air waiting to be popped like balloons.  “If that’s what is best maybe we should do this for him, he might not ever be the same” he would have hated that. The truth of the matter is my brother was never the same after being diagnosed with diabetes and as his illness got worse he died a little with each rush to the hospital and with each near miss of falling into a diabetic coma.  Every time I was called in the middle of the night to come to the hospital because they thought this was it and he might not come back, I died a little too.  The person who was my constant friend, defender, protector, comic relief, musical sherpa, world guru was slipping away, slipping through my fingers with each hospitalization.

I snap back to the conversation with my sister my arm is tired from holding the phone that feels heavy and I feel like I have sitting like this for hours.

“Yeah ok do it” I whispered.  “Do you want us to wait for you?” “Are you coming?”   “NO, no I don’t want to see that, I don’t want to see him like this, it’s not him, not my brother, why the fuck is she asking me this? what the fuck???”

It probably seems completely strange that I wasn’t there at the hospital with my family waiting for my brother to die but to me it seems completely fucked up to be there waiting with my family for my brother to die.  I loved him more than anyone else in my family and he was the one leaving, if it were another family member and he was there waiting I would have gone but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it because my immediate family were the last people I wanted to be with, their madness, shitty ass attitudes, greed, anger and pettiness was something my brother and I loathed. There was a reason why he and I kept our distance from the rest of our family and maintained a relationship outside of my mother’s house, cause they are nuts.

This pissed almost my entire family off including my brother in-laws but it was my choice and my decision to not be there but it doesn’t mean I loved him less and that I wasn’t pained by the loss.  My sister and her husband had everyone back at their house for dinner they were the only ones who talked to me well and my nieces their two daughters. The tension was enough to choke on with each bite of bread while we ate dinner. I could feel how angry and disapproving my mother was about me not coming but honestly I think she thought I should have been there for her. That looney toon has a way of stealing the thunder and attention from even a someone dead or dying. I already witnessed this at my Dads wake.

When everyone cleared out only I remained sitting at my sisters kitchen table and that’s when her and my brother-in-law told me how they felt about me not showing up. I appreciated that they had the balls, respect and integrity to say it directly to me and I told them I understood but it was my choice to make and for my reasons I made the choice I did and while I respected and understood how they felt to fuckin bad I decide what is best for me.

A week ago it started, the restlessness is that what comes first, it’s like I’m on idle waiting to take off any second but I never do so it feels like a permanent nervous stomach.  Each morning around 2 or 3 I lay in bed wide awake tears streaming from my eyes, mind racing completely still in the dark. The tears just pour, they keep coming streaking from the sides of my eyes into my hair and eventually to my pillow sometimes when I get up there is a weird cry halo but it sorta looks more like wet mickey mouse ears cause it’s really just two puddles on each side of my head.

I’m tired from the lack of sleep, I look worn, I look harsh but I move through my day hiding so I think. My students know it, they see it, they are extra gentle to me on these days, they stop and ask me how I am in a different way from their usual causal “hows it goin Ms. A?”. When they ask these days it’s quiet and there is a pause and sometimes a nod a like “I see your pain, I know your sad, sorry try not to be”  its the weirdest phenomena but it’s true it happens, they have an extra sense that in adults gets dulled, they are connected directly to your heart.  They seem to always know when you are not you, most of the time they don’t want to know why but they stop and they become a little mini caretaker for just a few seconds by the time you realize what they have done they have already walked away.

Sat December 3rd is my brother’s birthday he would have been 53, exactly 1o years older than me I think I’ll start holding my breath now.

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12/31/10 He’s died…./1

May 1 2009 I’m leaving work to go home for lunch to let the dogs out. I’m in a good place, I have just “come out”, late but have fallen in love with an amazing woman K. We didn’t see it coming but here we are about 4 weeks into our relationship. I check my phone because we are in that stage, you know where you text a million times a day but don’t say much more than how much you adore each other. I pull out my phone to receive my latest love note and I see a text from my niece says “call home asap”. I get a sinking feeling I pull over, as I dial I talk myself through what might be on the other end of the line.

“Aunt Lisa?,
“Yeah, what’s going on? what happened?
“Grandpa died.”

There it was, the words we all know one day we will have to face as our parents get older we know one day, one day it will happen and we try to anticipate our reactions but they never match the real thing.

“What happened, why, what happened?” my niece isn’t sure he appears to have just passed in his sleep. He woke up early showered and was waiting for both of my nieces to come by to go to breakfast with them. Sat down in the chair shut his eyes and passed away.

My dad is the best grandfather in the world, he was a pretty good dad to me but the job of grandfather was made for him, I was fortunate to see him in action as he loved, played with and spoiled my nieces. That day I realized the sadness that if I were to have children they would never know that love and joy of feeling like the most important person in the world and being so purely adored by their grandfather. I never really thought I would have kids but suddenly I became sad feeling like these imaginary not had and not even wanted kids wouldn’t know my father.

I was confused and literally disoriented, kinda starting to cry but more whimpering with a hearbeat that felt like it would pound through my chest.

Breathe, breathe, breathe, turn the car around drive back to school tell them your not coming back because your father just died. Turn around and drive back, go.

I pull back into the parking lot, there’s Kelly, she lost her dad, she knows what this is, she knows how this feels, she is walking out of school towards me she sees a look on my face and knows something is wrong, she asks.

She proceeds to hug me with all she is, she hugs me so authentically, so hard, so caringly that for a moment the world is on pause and I feel like the pain in my heart transfers to her. “I’m sorry, what can I do? I’m so sorry”. “I need to just go in and let our boss know.” I need to tell my student teacher who is sitting in my office and has just started working with me.

I walk into a fog, everything is muffled, I go to the office but my boss isn’t there I see the next person in line, M the school psychologist she’s my friend. She hugs me, she’ll let them know, go be with my family. I walk in my office and I tell C my student teacher she hugs me I tell her to report to M if she needs anything. I leave.

I sent K a text and she calls me I tell her what has happened and she asks me if she needs to work I tell her no I’m on my way to the funeral home and will call her.

I’ve never lost anyone before so I’m completely treading water and have no idea what I need. In fact for 6-8 months I do not grieve, I do not cry, I do not acknowledge the pain. Until in a therapists office, I engage in an exercise that has me imagining my father is sitting across from me and I tell him/the empty chair what I never got to say before he left.

Dad I want to thank you for teaching me an amazing work ethic. I get my sense of responsibility and integrity in relation to work from you. You modeled such an amazing example that I noticed at a young age and was always aware that you provided for your family. I want to thank you for my sense of humor, I love that you always cracked a joke, you were smart, witty and funny. I miss you, I’m sorry we weren’t closer near the end of your life, I’m sorry I didn’t make time to always see you and that I let the relationship with my mother interfere with me maintaining a  relationship with you. I hope your happy, safe and in a better place. I love you. I miss you. I’m sorry.

I arrive at the funeral home my two sisters and their husbands are there F is taking the lead and asking questions and helping to make the arrangements. My sister N sits near my mother crying. My brother is not there, he’s too sick, been sick for the past 15 years plus he has let the diabetes win and lives a hollow unfulfilling life in my mothers house who cares for him around the clock. My nieces hug and kiss me and I make the same rounds with my three sisters though we are not close. None of us are really close as sibilings the only one I had a close relationship with was with my brother but my sister L and I try sometimes.

We are moved to a table and the person at the funeral guides us delicately throught he routine, prayer cards, flowers, ribbons, coffins, obituary, death certificate and on and on. I hardly speak, N my sister does much of the talking and then translating into Spanish to my mother. Decisions are made, books are passed between us and everyone nods and agrees to things we will never remember we agreed to. My niece P looks at me and says “what they hell are you wearing?” I look down at my long sleeve aqua blue shirt with a red and grey striped sweater pulled over it, my eyes follow down my legs to my cuffed jeans which expose two different socks, one striped one argyle and then all the way down to my feet, two different shoes. She then points to the four multicolored bubbly shaped barrettes in my hair.

“It was mismatched day at school today, I forgot I was dressed like this.”  Everyone laughs. Even the funeral director admits to thinking I was a little weird.

The arrangements get made and we start to leave, my sister asks if I want to see my father, no, no I don’t no. They are unable to show him to me because there are the remains of someone else there. The remains…..the remains, it sounds so removed from the person I called my father.  I want to leave, I want to get out of here, I want to go, I have to go. I go home and recount the events to K she hugs me and comforts me and takes the next few days off of work to be with me. 4 weeks in and here is where we are the first of many traumas we will be dealt in our first year together and the first of what damages me for the next two years.

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