Chapter 3, Part I

The thing about grieving is that just when I start to feel like all of nature is not against me, one memory with my mom will slither into my head and render me completely useless for days. Given that the year anniversary of her suicide is fast approaching, I am in shambles.

I’ve given up the diet that was working so well, and last night I told Dan that I wanted to take up smoking again. I’ve been smoke-free for about four months after an almost 15 year habit.

I haven’t cooked in several days. I’m barely working and I’ve been sleeping late each morning. I have barely gotten dressed, much preferring to wear a holey tee-shirt and dirty sweatpants. Today I even cancelled my EMDR appointment as I felt as if I had the flu this morning. No such luck. It’s just depression.

Last night the phone rang three times in a row and I almost had an anxiety attack. The thought of talking to people just freaked me out.

You know when after a fun but reckless night of drinking you wake up with a killer hangover and admit to your friends that you will never drink like this again?

Do you know that lonely yet resentful and aching feeling you have when you break up with someone you really cared for?

You know that I am worthless feeling when you don’t get the job that you truly believed you were meant for.

You know that feeling when you’ve got a winter bug and your body is aching, your nose is sniffling, your head is hot and you can’t keep down any food?

Remember when you made that huge mistake at the office and you feared getting caught or worse - you were caught and you’re just waiting for your boss give you a verbal lashing?

Remember when you had a stupid fight with your very best friend and it left you feeling guilty and embarrassed?

Remember when you were six and you woke up from a nightmare about a bloody monster and you were afraid that it was under your bed or in your closet.

Remember when you were afraid of the dark?

Well take every sorry, shameful, fearful, lame, twisted, reckless, heart-wrenching, vomit-inducing moment in your life, multiple it by about 25 and that’s how I feel when I’m at my very worst moments of grieving. I can barely life my head off of the pillow.

Sometimes I cry so hard I can not swallow. My chest gets tight and I can not breathe. In fact, I’m crying but I’m not making any sound.

I can’t blame anyone for making me feel this way but my mama. She did this to me—her first born, her pride and joy, her closest friend.