Blog Therapy

I know I have mentioned before the plethora of psychology and human development classes I had to take in college due to changed majors and attending four different colleges. Well, in a lot of those classes I had to learn about Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's stages of grief. For tests, I always remembered them by remembering the word, 'DABDA;' Death, Anger, Bargaining, Denial, and Acceptance. I can say that with the passing of my mom I experienced all of those stages. Though, I think the acceptance part came in stages for me. I eventually accepted her death, but still grieved and mourned. I don't know how accepting of the situation I really was. Within the definition of grieving and mourning is the word sorrow - and I felt a lot of that. I'm not really sure when I stopped feeling it, but I did, and I just realized it recently.

You know how they say sometimes a girl doesn't need to see a therapist, she just needs a good group of girlfriends? Well, I just realized the same thing of a blog.

I have experienced nothing more heartbreaking in my life than watching my mom die, hearing her moan in pain, witness her body transform, and see the hollow look in her eyes. I remember standing in the hospital looking at her frail little body lying in her hospital bed and thinking, "It's not right for a child to have to witness their mother dying."

When we moved from Maryland, and before moving here, I lived with my parents for about five months. There were times when my mom would all of a sudden get an infection inducing a fever, which combined with medication she was taking, and among other reasons made her so lethargic she wouldn't be able to communicate, she would sleep for long periods of time, even fall asleep on the toilet. Holding back tears (and usually being unsuccessful) while trying to get her to take a Tylenol, drink or eat something, or to get her dressed to go to the hospital in those situations were really sad times. Usually, after helping her into the car for my dad to take her to the hospital, I would go back into the house and cry. Those nights I usually cried myself to sleep.

In quiet moments in the days and months after my mom passed away I often thought of her in those conditions; her lying in the hospital bed, her lethargic days, what her eyes looked like, her poor, tiny, frail body, how family and nurses had to take care of her basic needs. I honestly thought I would never forget any of those things, and that they would stay fresh in my memory forever.

But, they haven't.

I'm not quite sure when those thoughts stopped coming, but I think I know what triggered it.

Recently, I realized I couldn't even remember the last time I thought of any of those things, and the images in my head aren't even vivid anymore. They say time eases pain, but I also realized that when I started this blog I started focusing on the good things, and the wonderful things about my mom. Focusing on the wonderful person she was, and all the good things must have turned off those haunting thoughts for me. But, that's how she would want me to remember her; full of life, smiling, serving. She wouldn't want me to remember her when she felt she looked like "the wicked witch of the west." (her words, not mine) She would want me to remember her shaking her booty in the kitchen. Okay, maybe not necessarily that, but she would want me to remember her fun times - not the times when she was ill, and weak.

I just don't feel that sorrow anymore. I feel like I have accepted her death and moved on with my life accordingly. Do I still miss her? Of course! I don't think that ever goes away. A girl would always love to have her mother, right? My Grandmommy (my mom's mom) passed away about ten years ago, and my mom always missed her. Was she depressed over it? No, but you knew she missed her. There are times, seemingly random times, that I miss my mom, and wish she could be here, or that I could talk to her, but, it's not something I dwell on or that I mourn for anymore.

Even after her death, my mom continues to influence my life. Isn't that how it's supposed to be? I would have never started this blog if it weren't for me hearing her voice in my head (while I was reading some stupid blogs) repeating a phrase she often said, "There's too much harshness in the world..."

I'll always miss my mom; but, don't confuse that with me mourning or grieving for her. I've crossed that bridge, and I think focusing on her goodness on this blog has helped me get there.