Working things out?

I dreamed about Mum for the first time (that I can recall) the night before last.
It was strange because I don't feel there was a sense of good or bad about the dream, I just woke up feeling sad because I was thinking about her, but it wasn't a sad dream as such.
I guess my brain is slowly starting to sort through things.  I do feel at times like I have a spot of PTSD.  I get little flashbacks, particularly to that most awful time when we first realised something was wrong, and she was in such a mess...
But I'm trying to counter that with happy memories.  I found some old photos last night, it's hard to spend too long looking at them but I love to see her smiling face.

Leaving some things behind

I aren't ending this blog completely.  But I felt that as it had become some sort of diary of Mum's brain tumour and my efforts to cope with it, that maybe it was time to reboot myself with a new blog and leave this as a sort of memento - a message in a bottle? - as a record of that time. 
This doesn't mean I won't still post here because I'm still dealing with it, and will be for some time to come.
But a freshness of perspective is needed and you can find me being more - cheerful? Day-to-day? Philosophical? Mundane?! - over at Wordpress.  Still KizzieDid and Kizzie KizzieDidNot.

Gone

She is gone...and the outbreath is what hurts.  I've been holding my breath these past three months, now it hurts too much to breathe out.

Her pain is over, thank all that can be thanked. 

I went to see her in the chapel of rest.  Rather wish I hadn't.  The face reverts to a babylike state.

Thhis really hurts and I daren't let it burst out ... I don't want to break...

I miss you, Mum.

The progress of Kizzie

It's abundantly clear that my blog has been dominated lately by thoughts and outpourings on my mother's brain tumour.  This is frankly not lighthearted, entertaining stuff.  Although reading some of it back, even I can see a bit of a journey in progress.  It's been a strange few months - really has been a whirlwind, wherein I feel almost to be have been standing still in the centre (not inactive - I've been incredibly productive, counter to the flow) but time has moved on without me consciously realising it.  I mean, it's June, for frak's sake.

So where am I at the moment?

Fragile, of course.  If I like to feel I'm balanced on a nice flat plateau of stability, right now I'm en pointe on the top of a windy tor, but nonetheless - hoping I'm not jinxing myself - I'm relatively balanced.  I know I have a lot of 'stuff' going on in my head - some of it scares me, I'm not totally sure if I like the me that's in there, or even if I'm scared that I do like her but know I shouldn't.  But, I'm also rationalising, breathing, keeping it real - reflective. 

I will be.

Not I will be okay, I will be fine, whatever... just, I will be.  And that's ok.

In time, maybe the collection of the journey through pain I'm undergoing might be of use / help to someone facing a similar battle.  Even if not, it helps me to be able to get it out in my favourite format, written form.

She sleeps so much now.  It's sad, because I'd like to talk to her more, but to be honest, the things I'd want to talk about might not be things she'd want to talk about.  She's not really, totally there anyway, as I've explained before.  There's a fraction of my Mum in there somewhere, enough to usually say she loves me if I say I love her, enough that she has not, yet at least, wondered particularly who I am or felt uneasy as if I'm a stranger.  She's been very relaxed with most strangers actually, the constant stream of carers, doctors, nurses, Macmillan care...yes, she knows a lot of them through her work, but even so, many are unknown.

We haven't always had a perfect relationship - we've fought, we've bickered - but 99% of the time, Mum's been my friend as well as my Mum.  She supports me, even when the decisions I make might be ones you'd expect disapproval of.

The key thing she did was she told me that she didn't mind what I did in life, so long as I was happy.  I respect and appreciate that. 

I'm going to miss her incredibly, forever, and always.  But I have so much of her in my heart, in my spirit.  So I comfort myself in thinking that though I'll lose the chance to speak directly (well, I've already lost that) I know I have the sense of her in my soul. 

I'll try to talk about something else on here in the future.  But this is important stuff, to me.
 

'F**k it - the Ultimate Spiritual Way'...thoughts so far

I was given this book last week as a birthday present, but more, I think, as a nod to the hard time I am going through in my life right now.


What's most interesting, on a personal level, is that as I read, I realise that much of this is akin to my own personal philosophy / mantras / irreverent humour regarding religion.  It's just that I had forgotten much of it along the way, the last few years being the bitches they have been...so it's like returning to stuff and going, yeah, I know, I know...


I agree with much of the book.  Some things I do counter though.  Or find ironic.  My main thoughts:


p29: the section explaining how everyone comes to a crisis point in their lives, a crash, before they see the 'clear path'.  Well, fair enough.  And that leads some people on to write a spiritual / guidance tome.  Great.  So technically, having crashed myself back in 2009, am I qualified to write a book?
Actually, I probably am.  Probably was when I was 17, but didn't know it.  Still, perspective helps, in many things.


The diet section is not very convincing; I'm not into diets anyway, but there is much use of the words 'I bet if...' in this section.  Meaning J Parkin probably doesn't either.  Some of it makes sense, but it perhaps skates over some of the issues here.


Pages 84-85.  The concept of Jesus getting stoned, and the four gospels being prudes who re-write the tales and make the reduction to "Love one another as you love yourself' is hilariously good.  And the point about how it should be that you must love yourself first and then you can love everyone else, because otherwise you miss a vital point - that if you hate yourself you can't love others as yourself - is profoundly deep and ridiculously simple.


Pages 48-49, all the stuff about energy - I have a scientific mind at times and I get this.  It makes sense.  Energy.  Transformation.  All good stuff.


What also entertained me was that before I read any of the book, I did the thing where you let it naturally drop at a page and see what it brings up.  What it landed on was pretty relevant for how my brain is working at the moment.  Then when I properly read the book, it actually suggests doing this anyway, as the bit you get will 'be what you most need'.  Spooky?  The cynical, suspicious side of me thinks the friend who bought me the book, having read it themselves, 'doctored' the book to mess with my head... well, it's an amusing idea.  


More thoughts may follow when I've finished the book... 

Memory

My memory sucks.  I need to get into the habit of writing shit down when I think of it, I get these really great or fun ideas, and and certain I'll remember.  Do I hell.  I had another song-lyric changing idea yesterday, can I remember now what song it was?  Pah.  My only possibly clue is I was listening to 90s radio, so well, pick a song from that decade... grrr. *slaps self in frustration*

Where It's At

I haven't yet been able to properly grieve for the fact that to all intents and purposes I've already lost my mum.  She's not the same lady I love so much, her body is a shell for a damaged brain.  I get glimpses of her now and then but in many ways that's even more heartbreaking.
The reason I'm not letting myself grieve for this yet is that I need to stay strong for her, to make sure that I make her as comfortable and as happy as possible for the all-too-brief time she has left.
There are other things I know are going to hit me over and over like a spring-loaded bullet train.  Any children I have will never meet her - they'll know of her, they'll know her through me and my siblings, especially I think through me and my baby bro - but they won't know her.  I won't have a mum there to support me with all the baby-pregnancy stuff.  It hurts me and it scares me shitless.
I won't have that person there who is proud of me, to cheer me on, to see me complete my degree studies or to see me acting, to see my plays performed or things I've directed; to share the moments when you just want your mum there.  My Dad's still around and God bless him, he is probably proud of me in his own way but doesn't know how to express it.
This isn't meant as a pity party.  It's just the stages I'm going through.  Grief that sticks in your throat like vomit when you aren't near a basin.  It ain't pretty.

When this is all done, I'll watch the episode of Buffy called The Body and cry my fucking heart out.

Pain and its methods

After the great, body-shaking, stomach-shattering grief of diagnosis, you kick into high gear.  I'm designated '4 of 5' - the second youngest sibling.  But I've kicked into high gear, organising the care rota (that my sister can't seem to stick to), kicking backsides to make sure the wreck of a house is shipshape, making a system for ensuring the four of us currently in this country pass on relevant information to each other to ensure the best care for mum.  

It wears you out, for sure.  It's a pain-numbing process, action over anger/fear/pain is an equation that will never quite add up. But it's the right thing to do.  Keep calm, carry on; fall apart later.

And yes, that is fine in theory.  I can hold myself together while my most important lady sees out her days in peace.  I can do it for her.  But understandably, the pain seeps out slowly somewhere, like a pus-filled wound.

I'm unable to think quite clearly.  I get angry.  I'm distracting myself with randomness, I'm avoiding the obvious addictions like alcohol (unlike, once again, my sister) and drugs, but cigarettes and sex are cravings that I can't quell.  I've become attention-seeking, and get irrationally upset when I don't get that attention.

Still, I think, overall, the bottle it up but drip-drip it out method is best; I'm lucky to have some wonderful supporters, who can spare me a few minutes each day to let me rant or moan, then move on to keeping positive.

But ultimately, I'm sat here waiting for the lady I love most in the world to leave me.  I don't want her to be in pain.  But the end of hers is only the flood barrier opening on mine.

Warrior

When this darkness takes your light,
Do not feel you’ve lost the fight.
Although you will have left us here,
To sleep forever, do not fear,
You’ll leave us with your greatest part,
Your loving, beloved, warrior’s heart.