Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Hope, Faith, and Reality

I'll keep this opening paragraph short in keeping with my philosophy of not telling others' stories.  I must admit this is a hard policy to keep since the lives of so many people overlap with mine. My mother's cancer has returned in her shoulder. She needs to start chemo again right away. She had such difficult time with the last round. I am worried about her. I am also concerned because the cancer returned so soon after stopping treatment. I guess, I am hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst.

I should be an expert at grief by now. I am not. I have lost so many people that I love in so many different ways. It never gets easier. There is something about grief that brings out platitudes in others. Honestly, they don't know what to say, so they say what they have heard or what feels comforting or what makes them feel less uncomfortable/less helpless. There is the tendency to feel that you must comfort and assure those who are comforting you. Your heart is broken in ten million pieces and you're assuring people that you are fine and they don't need to worry about you. It is almost worse with strangers. You wish that you had a sign to wear as you wander around the store like a zombie. I can see some of the reasoning in the old custom of wearing black when you are in mourning. It seems to have given a universal symbol of tread lightly/leave me alone.

Thanks to modern technology, I was able to update the few friends who were following with me via email/text. I ended with "I am not ready to talk yet." I was not trying to be rude. I just needed to get out the facts without getting sidetracked by emotions. One friend called me immediately to tell me stories of my students during summer school. That did the trick. I need to keep my mind busy and not dwell on what-ifs. This is the hardest thing for me. I have this convoluted idea that if I pray enough and do enough good things everything will work out. This is just another one the character traits that I blame on my early reading of Pollyanna. How can one book be such a positive and negative influence? I am the living proof.

For now there is nothing to do but stay busy. I am crafting and cleaning like a fool. I know that sooner or later I will crash hard. There will be an epic melt down over the stupidest thing. I would like to apologize in advance to every who will be caught in the crossfire.

P.S. Mom, I am not even sure if you still read this. Please don't be upset with me. I process through writing.

1 comment:

mooserbeans said...

I hope that this post didn't come across as rude. I wanted to share with my friends without them dealing with a hysterical me. I am much better now:)