Everything looks perfect from far away

I have been tired. I have been very, very tired. I have had a lot to say but no energy to say it. I’ve never been more tired in my life than I have been lately.

I haven’t been sleeping very well. It’s probably gone on longer than two weeks but I can say for sure that it’s been bad these last two weeks. I’d wake up several times a night and take forever to fall back to sleep. Or, I don’t at all. I toss and turn until morning and go to work groggy and crabby…er than usual.

My left eyelid has been twitching. Since late July. I googled it and one of the possible factors is caffeine. I have stopped and restarted coffee several times but it’s still twitching. I don’t think it’s the coffee. I don’t know what the hell it is. I don’t think it’s anything serious. But it’s annoying.

I’m in denial about being stressed out. I like to say I don’t get stressed ever but, let’s face it, nobody’s immune to stress. Sooo…I’m stressed out. Maybe. I’ve already mentioned what it is that I’m maybe stressed about. I’ve printed my resignation letter. I’m half-hearted about it, because, what if this is as good as it gets? Granted it’s not the best but what if it is? What if I was never meant to get the absolute best but only, say, sixth best? And this is the sixth best and if I let it go there will be nothing left for me? What then? I don’t know, but I know I have to do it.

My mother’s seventh death anniversary was last month. The seventh isn’t typically momentous. The first year is. The second, yes. The third and fourth make your head spin but you don’t end up in a heap on the floor. The fifth, it all comes back and there’s a high chance you do end up on the floor. The next several years leading up to the tenth, you shed a tear, quietly. The tenth…let’s not go there. But see, the seventh year isn’t supposed to be momentous. Except, for me, it was. I was crying every day for about a week before the day itself, and on the day itself, I was a wreck. I hid it well from the world but really I was wiping up tears the whole day, bemoaning my sad existence without her. I don’t know what it was. It just happened. My mother is dead. I was distraught. So I cried. It happens.

I feel…rudderless. I feel like this year has been nothing but a series of disappointments and heartaches. I desperately wish that life would work itself out, and let me be happy.

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5 thoughts on “Everything looks perfect from far away

  1. Grief – the gift that keeps on giving. Michael and I went on a four-hour drive to look at Autumn leaves this afternoon, and I spent half the time with tears in my eyes, thinking how much Daddy would have loved the colors.

    I guess it never ends.

  2. I had my eye twitch for awhile, and it is stress. :\ I’m sorry you’re so stressed out. You need to take care and be easy on yourself.

    ::hugs:: don’t be rough on yourself for grieving. I don’t imagine that it will ever go away. I think it’s perfectly understandable and normal to feel that way around the anniversary of her death, whether it be a year, seven years, or thirty.

  3. One of the girls in my paramedic class lost her mother a year before class started and she said she wasn’t sure that she’d ever get over it. Kenneth lost his when he was like 8 or something and still hasn’t gotten over it. I’m starting to feel rather lucky about my parents being alive. Granted it means that I’ll never be the star of a Disney movie (although my lack of singing, dancing or the ability to control animals pretty much means I can’t be in one anyways) but everyone I know who has lost a parent takes it terribly hard for years after.

    That’s my way of saying I’m sorry for your loss.

    Try to stress less. I once read a blog that said, “You’re replaceable. You can leave your job right now and they’ll probably replace you with someone that can do it better.” Then it went on to say that you should live your life for you and no one else. It was actually more uplifting than it sounds.

  4. I’m 100% certain that, when my parents die — which I’ve forbidden them to do so, I will be a puddle of tears all day, every year. My mom is still weepy over my Peepaw’s passing. I think it’s been 8 years now. My dad gets kind of weirdly distant every year on the anniversaries of his parents’ deaths… and it’s been about 24/21 years since they’ve passed.

    What I’m trying to say is, you’re allowed to be sad for a little while. It’s ok.

    However, your existence is not sad. You are an extremely strong person. Extremely strong. Find a mantra to remind yourself of that every.single.day. One day, you’ll start to feel it’s true.

    PS: A job should never make you feel uncomfortable to your core. My job hasn’t even made me feel rotten to the core, and I’m still trying to find something more in-tune with who I really am.

    1. I love that you’ve forbidden your parents to die. If only it would work.

      I remember asking my mother, this was in the same year she died, before she got sick, if she still thought about my grandfather – her father – who passed away in 1986 when I was eight months old. My mum said yes, every day. “Do you still get sad? Do you cry?” Yes, it still made her sad; it still made her cry. “It never goes away.”

      I was astounded. The idea of grief being omnipresent was alien to me at the time. I thought that after 18 years surely the grief would have dissipated, surely she wouldn’t miss her father anymore. How was I to know she was right?

      Thank you, girls, for your kind words.

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