More grimness! What is with me?
So, it's true what they say, the holiday season is rough if you've lost a loved one. I wasn't expecting it to be rough on Thanksgiving, because Thanksgiving was never really a Mom holiday, given the heavy turkey and Mom's 5-pound weight limit.
Still, we'd always go visit Mom and bring her a plate of Wilma food, and we unwisely dropped by the house to pick up some stuff, and surprise! Mom was not there! Commence crying all night.
Here is where it gets strange: I cried, of course, as you do, but after I had the big snot suck at the end of of the cry (the therapeutic part during which you supposedly grow and heal and square your shoulders bravely and soldier on), I did not not feel one bit better. I woke up the next day and I was still sad.
This is the point at which Friend #3 barks, "Duh! It's your Mom! You aren't getting over that so fast." But here's the thing, or rather, here are the things:
I've been fascinated recently with the coping strategies people use in lieu of a good cry, or when a good cry doesn't help. For example, I eat. I ate quite recklessly the three months after Mom died. "I can have a homemade Ben and Jerry's Heath Toffee Bar Crunch sundae with hot fudge and pecans and whipped cream because fuck it, I'm an orphan." I eventually ate so much I screwed up my blood sugar and got a threatening letter from the doctor.
So, I've straightened that out, which leaves knitting, drugs, and alcohol. Oh, or cooking, which a work friend relies on the relieve her stress. My own particular drug and its dosage acts on my thoughts, not my emotions, so that's no good. However ... I did notice today that some alcohol has passed my lips every day for the past week. Shot of Baileys; I had to know what limoncello tastes like; wanted to see if I could drink the Patron straight; etc. It's atypical for me. It's a slippery slope. So I'm back to eating, but that can't go on.
I know there are some things that take time to heal, and even some things that should never heal (such as resentments vital to your self-esteem). I think Mom is one of those things that should never heal. I should be sad about that the rest of my life.
I wonder what other people do when they have sadness they can't cry out. I can avoid the constant irrational sadness, now I need to learn how to live with constant rational sadness. Friend #3 says, "It's only been seven months. Give yourself some time." And I respond, "You know what's good? Fried chicken."