My mom died a month ago. A month ago Friday, if you want to be precise about it - so 30 days, as of today. And I think I’m doing pretty well overall; I’m staying busy and generally in pretty good spirits and I’m talking to people and taking care of business. For the most part, it is reasonable and true when I tell people that I am neither stuck nor broken.
But I’m off work now, for almost six months (which equals less busy, which equals more undirected mental energy), and last night I had rather a major meltdown. Like, a weeping, freaked out, don’t-want-to-be-alone, I want my MOTHER meltdown. And where I would ordinarily call her and yammer until she told me that I would actually be fine, well, I can’t do that. Because she died. She DIED. My mother is DEAD and I don’t know who can help me pull myself together.
I am having a baby in two days. I am waiting, quite honestly, for the other shoe to drop and something horrible to happen - either to her or to me, or to Dan or… I don’t know. I’m just waiting, and I don’t trust any of this. And you know what? I’m not stuck, and I’m not broken, but I’m not exactly myself either, because that is not actually the way that I typically live my life. I just want to be the person I’m supposed to be. I want all this mess fixed, and I want my mom back. Fuck. (You’re welcome for only the one instance of that word. It took some effort.)