Cont...
She was also smart in ways I could never be. She had this organic sensibility that led her to always have the answer. I ran to her. I wrapped myself around her. As a child, I hesitated to believe in any other way but hers.
When she was sad and frightened, I was strong. Did I really have a choice? My brother needed clean socks. My sister had a birthday party to attend. The pugs needed a walking. The man delivering the oil needed to be paid. You see, the house doesn’t run by itself.
I’ve been mediator. I’ve been big sister. I’ve played mom. I’ve been eldest daughter and granddaughter. I’ve been career woman. I’ve been the child that puts her parent into a mental hospital. I’ve been lover and fighter. I’ve been devastated.
When a life is taken in such a way, a big mess is left in return. My father doesn’t even bear a close resemblance to the man that raised me. My brother must tell me he loves me even when I briefly leave the room. My sister, well, I could say she has tuned out, but that would be too easy. She feels fucked.
Even the pugs have felt loss. Right after my mom died the little one scratched the fur off her head leaving angry red patches. The fat one just sticks to herself these days. And the old one … she was my mother’s favorite … some six months later my sister came home from school to find her dead.
Grief often prevails.
The kids and I have tried to stick together, but it’s been impossible. I can’t be their mom though sometimes I would like to be. I would like to give them that because they deserve to have a mom. I think that I could do a better job than she. I mean anyone could, right? For Christ sake, she left her two teenage kids alone forever one dark fall night. They were just in their bedrooms watching television or IMing their friends as teens do. She made the choice to miss my brother’s first day of high school, to not send my sister off to her first day of senior year. She will miss the birth of my first child, something that is not currently in the mix, but something that I stay up at night crying over. She always promised me that she would watch her grandchild whenever I needed her to. I remember the day when she told me that I would be a great mom.
This is all the talk of grief-stricken girl.
The other night me and my best girlfriend estimated that I pay $1500 a month in medical fees; the vast majority of funds going to therapy. This suicide has cost me a bloody fortune. And all I do is talk about the same thing … her.
There are no doors to unlock, symbols to decode, mysteries to solve. Suicide is what it is. There is no universal cause. I can think of a million reasons why it became easier for her to shoot herself on October 26, 2005, but I can also think of a million reasons why she might have looked twice at the gun, closed her eyes and stepped away, never to feel that cold metal in her hands.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Part II
Cont ... Please read Part I - right below this post - to keep up.
I turned 30 last month, and my mother wasn’t the first person to call me. I said goodbye to my troubled 20’s, to the 29th year of my life that included the loss of my mother. I will never be able to explain my longing, my wish to be little again so that I could look up at her.
Nor will I ever be able to explain who my mother was.
We became friends at some point, confidants in a way that I really never thought possible. I listened to her talk about her difficulties raising my brother and sister and her fears about the ending of her marriage to our father because of his affairs. Sometimes, at very careful moments she would admit to me the mistakes she made as a parent, as a wife, as a lover. She would talk about her childhood of pennies and beatings, of drunks and hooligans. She was usually drunk at these times. Sometimes she would discuss her short marriage to my biological father, a man I knew very little about. I would ask her questions about the memories I had. I was only four or five when they separated.
In return, she understood my fear of marriage and my reluctance to commit to a man that was perfect for me. She understood my own melancholy. She knew I wasn’t a stranger to men or to vice in multiple sorts. She knew that I was my own worst enemy, that I could personally sabotage everything good in my life in one hot minute.
And sometimes she wouldn’t stop me. She’d let me learn a lesson. Other times, she’d call me out and I’d run off in a rage or cry out of embarrassment and foolishness.
Every day for nearly 29 years, my mother had been my world. And she will probably continue to be until I have children of my own. Until new life helps me let go of loss. Until love helps me to shed grief.
You see, no one I have ever met has ever had such a commanding presence as my mother. She could silence, criticize and maim me with a passing look. If she chose, she could also declare me a goddess. At moments I was a genius, the brightest child to ever exist. I was so hardworking, so articulate, to talented, so pretty that I could model, and style to boot! Gosh, she loved me.
That presence of hers, that force doesn’t allow me to say goodbye. From the grave she tells me to cry for her, to blame for her, to hate for her. I feel as if she will never let me get over her pain.
I am threadbare.
I remember her as parts, which is primarily how I feel, how I’ve always felt before and now after her suicide. That’s how I know that I am hers and she is mine.
Mama was mean and scary at times. I ran from her. I hid from her. As an adult, I told her she was draining me.
I turned 30 last month, and my mother wasn’t the first person to call me. I said goodbye to my troubled 20’s, to the 29th year of my life that included the loss of my mother. I will never be able to explain my longing, my wish to be little again so that I could look up at her.
Nor will I ever be able to explain who my mother was.
We became friends at some point, confidants in a way that I really never thought possible. I listened to her talk about her difficulties raising my brother and sister and her fears about the ending of her marriage to our father because of his affairs. Sometimes, at very careful moments she would admit to me the mistakes she made as a parent, as a wife, as a lover. She would talk about her childhood of pennies and beatings, of drunks and hooligans. She was usually drunk at these times. Sometimes she would discuss her short marriage to my biological father, a man I knew very little about. I would ask her questions about the memories I had. I was only four or five when they separated.
In return, she understood my fear of marriage and my reluctance to commit to a man that was perfect for me. She understood my own melancholy. She knew I wasn’t a stranger to men or to vice in multiple sorts. She knew that I was my own worst enemy, that I could personally sabotage everything good in my life in one hot minute.
And sometimes she wouldn’t stop me. She’d let me learn a lesson. Other times, she’d call me out and I’d run off in a rage or cry out of embarrassment and foolishness.
Every day for nearly 29 years, my mother had been my world. And she will probably continue to be until I have children of my own. Until new life helps me let go of loss. Until love helps me to shed grief.
You see, no one I have ever met has ever had such a commanding presence as my mother. She could silence, criticize and maim me with a passing look. If she chose, she could also declare me a goddess. At moments I was a genius, the brightest child to ever exist. I was so hardworking, so articulate, to talented, so pretty that I could model, and style to boot! Gosh, she loved me.
That presence of hers, that force doesn’t allow me to say goodbye. From the grave she tells me to cry for her, to blame for her, to hate for her. I feel as if she will never let me get over her pain.
I am threadbare.
I remember her as parts, which is primarily how I feel, how I’ve always felt before and now after her suicide. That’s how I know that I am hers and she is mine.
Mama was mean and scary at times. I ran from her. I hid from her. As an adult, I told her she was draining me.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Today I Live, Chapter I, Part I
This is a story to be published in several parts. Keep checking in...
Part I
I never believed that I would write a book.
Though I consider myself a writer of sorts--and I actually do make money toiling away at my computer putting together words for Web sites, press releases, advertisements and brochures …the only subject matters I ever considered were those of my clients.
In fact, much of the time I hate writing. It forces me to retreat, to move inward, to find hours of comfort in a faux leather desk chair and a $100 desk from Target that is much too small for all of my necessary clutter.
But when my mother committed suicide last fall, I had no words and I had all of them. Sentences flew around my head. My heart spoke. But my lips were zipped. It’s been that way ever since.
And while I tossed and turned at night, at day, my words were neither comforting nor distressing. They just were. All this truth came out in one horrific episode of my life. My mother committing suicide.
My mama was beautiful. I don’t think there is ever a moment in my life when I looked at her and wasn’t startled by her looks. Even when she was drinking or loaded on Vicodin, she was still striking. When she lay in her casket, with the outfit I painstakingly chose, I thought, “I hope my little girl looks like you Mama.”
But I hope she never has her pain.
We could certainly get each other going. So much laughter. Too much yelling. But we loved. My mother and I loved so much. The little things like fresh flowers and a bright day for sunbathing. A few hours at TJ Maxx and some shoe shopping made us giddy. We would hit tag sales and buy junk that we always believed was absolutely necessary. We would gossip about celebrities. We would drink cheap Pinot Grigio and munch on cake, chips and Chinese food—in no particular order. We would rent movies and she would always fall asleep. I’d shake her, telling her to get into bed.
When I was in college, I wouldn’t speak to my mother for long periods of time. Weeks turned into months and one of us would finally give in. She was mad. I was mad. Today, I can’t even think of the reasons why. I had committed my college days to pot, tequila and whatever boyfriend was warming my bed. Schoolwork was secondary. My internship and part-time job were tertiary. And I suppose that my family rounded out the top five.
I wasn’t top of my mother’s priority list either. She was raising my brother who was seventeen years younger than me … and my sister was just short of thirteen years younger. I felt like a fly buzzing around when I came home for extended weekends and breaks. It wasn’t that I was invisible. I was too visible. I think now that I really missed being her kid.
Part I
I never believed that I would write a book.
Though I consider myself a writer of sorts--and I actually do make money toiling away at my computer putting together words for Web sites, press releases, advertisements and brochures …the only subject matters I ever considered were those of my clients.
In fact, much of the time I hate writing. It forces me to retreat, to move inward, to find hours of comfort in a faux leather desk chair and a $100 desk from Target that is much too small for all of my necessary clutter.
But when my mother committed suicide last fall, I had no words and I had all of them. Sentences flew around my head. My heart spoke. But my lips were zipped. It’s been that way ever since.
And while I tossed and turned at night, at day, my words were neither comforting nor distressing. They just were. All this truth came out in one horrific episode of my life. My mother committing suicide.
My mama was beautiful. I don’t think there is ever a moment in my life when I looked at her and wasn’t startled by her looks. Even when she was drinking or loaded on Vicodin, she was still striking. When she lay in her casket, with the outfit I painstakingly chose, I thought, “I hope my little girl looks like you Mama.”
But I hope she never has her pain.
We could certainly get each other going. So much laughter. Too much yelling. But we loved. My mother and I loved so much. The little things like fresh flowers and a bright day for sunbathing. A few hours at TJ Maxx and some shoe shopping made us giddy. We would hit tag sales and buy junk that we always believed was absolutely necessary. We would gossip about celebrities. We would drink cheap Pinot Grigio and munch on cake, chips and Chinese food—in no particular order. We would rent movies and she would always fall asleep. I’d shake her, telling her to get into bed.
When I was in college, I wouldn’t speak to my mother for long periods of time. Weeks turned into months and one of us would finally give in. She was mad. I was mad. Today, I can’t even think of the reasons why. I had committed my college days to pot, tequila and whatever boyfriend was warming my bed. Schoolwork was secondary. My internship and part-time job were tertiary. And I suppose that my family rounded out the top five.
I wasn’t top of my mother’s priority list either. She was raising my brother who was seventeen years younger than me … and my sister was just short of thirteen years younger. I felt like a fly buzzing around when I came home for extended weekends and breaks. It wasn’t that I was invisible. I was too visible. I think now that I really missed being her kid.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
I Luv TV
I love the new TV season, and I've carefully selected those new programs that will provide with endless hours of disassociating. here's a bit of what will be on my tivo.
old favorites:
Lost (frankly i can't remember what happened at the end of last season. all i know is that i would like Boon to come back)
Law & Order SVU (Benson & Stabler will they get naked)
ER ( i think i missed the season finale)
Nip/Tuck (hooray - it's an early starter)
The O.C. (what will happen w/o Marissa? who will Ryan fight for)
Grey's Anatomy (it's just the best.)
Desperate Housewives (i can't remember what happend last season. all i know is that Teri Hatcher is a cow...and why is Inside the Actor's Studio having her on. do they not have anyone else? i wonder if she's going to do her stripper exercise.)
Gilmore Girls (Lorelei is a bit annoying but i like her. unfortunately i don't have the CW)
new shows:
Studio 360 (just finished watching it. i think i like it.)
Brothers & Sisters (Calista comes outta retirement? Ally McBeal seems like a million years ago.)
Smith (Looks like a great cast. It's weird because I've never committed to a show on CBS)
Heroes (i believe it's the same creators as Lost)
Six Degrees (great cast but i don't like Erika Christensen with that color blonde hair)
also in the rotation on my tivo:
Family Guy
Laguna Beach
Footballer's Wives (syndication)
Footballer's Wives: Overtime
Best Week Ever
The Office (Because OK I'll admit. I'm in love with Steve Carell. I've never watched this show before, but people tell me I would really like it.)
CSI original (syndication)
X-Files (syndication)
Wifeswap
Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations
SO it appears I won't leave the house anytime this month with the amount of television I watch. Actually, I'm attempted to leave the house everyday - even if it's for a short period of time as that's what my therapist wants me to do. So the good girl that i am, I enrolled myself in a dance class. I start a Latin dance class on Thursday.
Signing off.
old favorites:
Lost (frankly i can't remember what happened at the end of last season. all i know is that i would like Boon to come back)
Law & Order SVU (Benson & Stabler will they get naked)
ER ( i think i missed the season finale)
Nip/Tuck (hooray - it's an early starter)
The O.C. (what will happen w/o Marissa? who will Ryan fight for)
Grey's Anatomy (it's just the best.)
Desperate Housewives (i can't remember what happend last season. all i know is that Teri Hatcher is a cow...and why is Inside the Actor's Studio having her on. do they not have anyone else? i wonder if she's going to do her stripper exercise.)
Gilmore Girls (Lorelei is a bit annoying but i like her. unfortunately i don't have the CW)
new shows:
Studio 360 (just finished watching it. i think i like it.)
Brothers & Sisters (Calista comes outta retirement? Ally McBeal seems like a million years ago.)
Smith (Looks like a great cast. It's weird because I've never committed to a show on CBS)
Heroes (i believe it's the same creators as Lost)
Six Degrees (great cast but i don't like Erika Christensen with that color blonde hair)
also in the rotation on my tivo:
Family Guy
Laguna Beach
Footballer's Wives (syndication)
Footballer's Wives: Overtime
Best Week Ever
The Office (Because OK I'll admit. I'm in love with Steve Carell. I've never watched this show before, but people tell me I would really like it.)
CSI original (syndication)
X-Files (syndication)
Wifeswap
Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations
SO it appears I won't leave the house anytime this month with the amount of television I watch. Actually, I'm attempted to leave the house everyday - even if it's for a short period of time as that's what my therapist wants me to do. So the good girl that i am, I enrolled myself in a dance class. I start a Latin dance class on Thursday.
Signing off.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
WTF
-La Lohan's firecrotch. Someone needs to purchase this bitch some Hanes Her Way.
-The death of Anna Nicole Smith's son. This is seriously depressing me. What happened?
-Suri Cruise' 22 page spread in Vanity Fair. Where the fuck is my magazine; I've been running to the mailbox everyday.
-My very own hypocrasy. I say we should support our local proprietors, and I really do try to. I swore I wouldn't go to the knew Starbucks...but then a had a gift card...then i went back the next day and the next...
-Therapy three times this week. Gosh I'm fucked in the head.
-
-The death of Anna Nicole Smith's son. This is seriously depressing me. What happened?
-Suri Cruise' 22 page spread in Vanity Fair. Where the fuck is my magazine; I've been running to the mailbox everyday.
-My very own hypocrasy. I say we should support our local proprietors, and I really do try to. I swore I wouldn't go to the knew Starbucks...but then a had a gift card...then i went back the next day and the next...
-Therapy three times this week. Gosh I'm fucked in the head.
-
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Raves, Rants and What the Fucks
please go see Little Miss Sunshine. i haven't laughed that hard in a while. brilliant cast.
what the fuck is up with this WB/UPNm erger? so we never got UPN here, but oddly the WB here at local NYC news- which i loved. now, i don't have shit and I'm pissed. how am i going to watch the Gilmore Girls?
does anyone use pandora? i started fiddling with it last winter. it was intriguing for a hot minute, but i'm just so attached to my yahoo launch cast. anyway, there was a nice big piece on pandora in the Times recently so i figured i would revisit. i like the idea that real musicians are selecting music for me that match my tastes. i don't know about pandora tho...it gives me more bad choices than good. i can't explain it, but i clicked a "thumbs up" for a janet jackson song and just
busted out with every single r&B trio ever created in the 1990s for like the next 20 songs.
diets...me and danny ...@#$%%^^^$###^&&
big shout out to kimmee and annie for introducing me to kava kava. i think it's chilling me out at night. nice...
helent hunt - why do people give her acting jobs? she is like the queen of bland. i think if she ever made a movie with kevin costner i would just boycott going to the movies.
csi las vegas - ok i'm officially addicted.
the premiere of nip/tuck tonight - hallelujah...now to find the fucking channel.
i got me a new red handbag (danny - thanks!) and some new red flats (so cute - thanks grandma!). i have been searching for the perfect red handbag for two years. i practically had to tackle a woman at the store who had it in her hands. she was trying to decide between red and black. so i waited while she modeled it in front of the mirror for like a million minutes. she walked around the store...but she finally put it down and i snatched it.
anyone purchased dylan's new album and wants to burn it for me? (i don't have a music budget this month and September is a slow month for me.)
so i revisited the movie Crash yesterday. james spader is so god damn sexy in that movie. i just love him. (uh. photo editor get to work.)
i feel like having a cigarette tonight.
psyched cause my friend elizabeth is coming to ithaca this weekend. hooray!
signing off.
what the fuck is up with this WB/UPNm erger? so we never got UPN here, but oddly the WB here at local NYC news- which i loved. now, i don't have shit and I'm pissed. how am i going to watch the Gilmore Girls?
does anyone use pandora? i started fiddling with it last winter. it was intriguing for a hot minute, but i'm just so attached to my yahoo launch cast. anyway, there was a nice big piece on pandora in the Times recently so i figured i would revisit. i like the idea that real musicians are selecting music for me that match my tastes. i don't know about pandora tho...it gives me more bad choices than good. i can't explain it, but i clicked a "thumbs up" for a janet jackson song and just
busted out with every single r&B trio ever created in the 1990s for like the next 20 songs.
diets...me and danny ...@#$%%^^^$###^&&
big shout out to kimmee and annie for introducing me to kava kava. i think it's chilling me out at night. nice...
helent hunt - why do people give her acting jobs? she is like the queen of bland. i think if she ever made a movie with kevin costner i would just boycott going to the movies.
csi las vegas - ok i'm officially addicted.
the premiere of nip/tuck tonight - hallelujah...now to find the fucking channel.
i got me a new red handbag (danny - thanks!) and some new red flats (so cute - thanks grandma!). i have been searching for the perfect red handbag for two years. i practically had to tackle a woman at the store who had it in her hands. she was trying to decide between red and black. so i waited while she modeled it in front of the mirror for like a million minutes. she walked around the store...but she finally put it down and i snatched it.
anyone purchased dylan's new album and wants to burn it for me? (i don't have a music budget this month and September is a slow month for me.)
so i revisited the movie Crash yesterday. james spader is so god damn sexy in that movie. i just love him. (uh. photo editor get to work.)
i feel like having a cigarette tonight.
psyched cause my friend elizabeth is coming to ithaca this weekend. hooray!
signing off.
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