Dear Mom,
Despite popular belief I'm sure, I do still think about my blog daily and posts continue to formulate in my head variously throughout the week, but instead of writing about my life, I'm just plain living (and loving) it. Since my new discovery of the single life and its highs and lows, I have learned a tremendous amount about myself... and the losers that are currently on the market.
Just kidding.
Kind of.
But seriously.
Losers.
But it's fine that I have yet to stumble across a real winner because, as you may recall, I am on a path to self discovery during this single period in my life (yaaawn... is it over yet?!). My old boyfriends used to score big brownie points based simply off how they interacted with you. You were a smooth talking, fiesty little son of a gun, and if a guy could hang with you and keep you laughing, he certainly had my approval. Now that that option is no longer, I am making my own judgement calls (and by 'my own', I mean plus Dad, Tom, Gisele, and many friends' approvals... totally my own though...). Let me tell you Mother Dearest, these boys are making it quite easy for me to head for the hills and preferably another planet all together. I'm either getting really good at picking out the good ones from the bad, or you're playing a really cruel trick on me to make me think that's the case. Either way, for your weekend entertainment, please enjoy a good laugh at my expense:
You Know You're Better Off Single When....
1. He doesn't want to meet your friends, and his reasoning is because he's afraid they will want to hook up with him and you'll start a cat-fight with them in public.
2. He takes the bun off his cheeseburger to avoid the extra calories while you're already wolfing down burger #2, bread and all, with extra cheese.
3. He randomly develops a British accent in mid conversation... yet he's American.
4. He thinks you didn't see his phone light up from a text message before he nonchalantly sneaks it into his pocket and "goes pee" in the bathroom repeatedly throughout your visit.
5. He sees a bug crawling around your apartment, immediately runs to get a paper towel... and then hands it to you.
6. He tells you he's been too busy to talk, you reply 'but honestly, if a person wanted to talk to someone they would find the time', and he responds, 'yeah, I guess that's true actually!'. Awkward.
7. He tells you his dad is an alcoholic... while he's drunk.
8. How 'difficult' his life has been and how hard he's had to work for all he has comes up at least a half dozen times a day (maybe I should send him my blog link or any of my friends with cancer's blogs-- hello, perspective! Move over Debbie Downer, there's a new kid in town).
Okay Mom, seriously, joke's over.
On to the next! Pick me out a keeper, please. This is getting a little ridiculous!
Love,
Sami
July 1, 2011
June 5, 2011
First Things First
Dear Mom,
Changes and new experiences typically make me anxious and overwhelmed, so I'm surprised to find myself suddenly living a life of firsts. I'm living on my own for the first time with no roommates to wash my dishes for me when I'm running late; no one to call while I'm at work to double check that I turned off my hair straightener; no one to plop down on the couch with to vent after a long day.
It's my first time killing insects on my own when they sneak in uninvited to my apartment. That may not sound like a big deal to most, but if you remember, one time in high school you and Dad were out for the night, and I demanded that my then boyfriend drive to our house at 10PM on a school night to squish the giant, half-human spider glaring up at me from the bathroom floor (in my defense, he was even intimidated by it). Just this morning I woke up to a hornet buzzing around my head, which, since I hadn't opened the door in a good 10 hours, means it creepily watched me sleep all night and that really ticked me off. I grabbed the can of Raid and went on a 10-second rampage. Dad would be so proud!
This is also my first time being single for as long as I can remember. Truly, 100%, fend for myself, cooking for one, officially a bug killer, single. Yes, there was that 8 or so months not long after you died where I was boyfriendless, but instead I attached myself to a best friend who I spent literally all my free time with. I was grieving, and I needed it. I needed someone, or something, to focus on to keep myself preoccupied from the hurt. I was just trying to survive then, but now, I am trying to live. So, I am single. I have no boyfriend and no definite best friend. Instead, I have a lot of close friends and acquaintances that I am spending equal amounts of time with, and it feels great. It's the first time that I feel like I don't need to tell a certain person what I'm doing all the time; if someone wants to grab lunch or go for a walk, I just can, and I don't need to report to a boyfriend or a super protective best friend. I'm a floater, and I like it. I feel like I can breathe.
With that being said, this is also the first time I feel like I am shaping myself rather than allowing others to influence me. I don't ask anyone's opinion on what I wear anymore because there's no one here to ask; no one is advising me on what to say to the cute boy that texted me, or what color curtain would look nice in the kitchen. It's all me now, and it's just so liberating.
In the same sense, it's also been a little scary from time to time. A few situations have arose where I realize just how damaged I am in some ways. Like I said, in the past I have always jumped from relationship to relationship. Having grown up watching my parents be completely in love, how could I not go from one three-year relationship to the next? I got so caught up in finding love and a person to complete me that I never stopped to ask myself why I feel incomplete in the first place.
Two of my past relationships have lacked some essential elements, and they've truly scarred me in a big way that I've never fully admitted to myself prior to, well, about two days ago. Someone that I care about made a negative comment about my hair-- yes, my hair-- and it literally sent me soaring head first off the deep end of the looney bin pool. That person had never said anything but positive things about my oh so astonishing, silky-smooth hair, so my feelings were really hurt. He looked at me as if the word "PSYCHOPATH" was instantaneously etched across my forehead. Thankfully, I had a sudden epiphany.
In my past relationships, it always seemed like things were going well, when out of the blue I'd hear, "Well, I love you, but I'm not in love with you," or, after my old roommate told me how adorable I looked before a date, I'd then hear, "What's with your eye shadow, and when did you get that weird shirt?" from my boyfriend. Seriously?! Seriously. My poor little ego. Rather than saying "screw you, a-hole" and going on my merry way like the confident woman I pretended to be would have done, I secretly tried to change. I wanted to be the girl he thought was marriage material, and I wanted to change my style and appearance to please the next one. I wanted to be different because I thought no one could love me if I was just... me. I never felt like I was enough just as I was.
For the first time, I know that I should feel worthy of being loved for exactly the person I am, and I know I should love myself enough to walk away from someone who needs me to change in order to be a part of my life. Between my last post and this one, I've realized that I know I should feel those things, but the catch is that I don't necessarily feel them about myself. I am currently damaged goods-- I'm broken in a lot of ways, and I see that now. I mean, I was two steps away from sending myself to the local mental health clinic because someone made a comment about my hair. Get a grip, woman! I need my opinion to matter above all others. I need to heal. I need time to rebuild my confidence. I need to figure out how to feel good about myself with no influence from others. I need to continue restoring the relationship I have with myself because then, and only then, will I truly be ready and able to have a healthy relationship with someone else.
That'll be my next first.
I love you,
Sami
Changes and new experiences typically make me anxious and overwhelmed, so I'm surprised to find myself suddenly living a life of firsts. I'm living on my own for the first time with no roommates to wash my dishes for me when I'm running late; no one to call while I'm at work to double check that I turned off my hair straightener; no one to plop down on the couch with to vent after a long day.
It's my first time killing insects on my own when they sneak in uninvited to my apartment. That may not sound like a big deal to most, but if you remember, one time in high school you and Dad were out for the night, and I demanded that my then boyfriend drive to our house at 10PM on a school night to squish the giant, half-human spider glaring up at me from the bathroom floor (in my defense, he was even intimidated by it). Just this morning I woke up to a hornet buzzing around my head, which, since I hadn't opened the door in a good 10 hours, means it creepily watched me sleep all night and that really ticked me off. I grabbed the can of Raid and went on a 10-second rampage. Dad would be so proud!
This is also my first time being single for as long as I can remember. Truly, 100%, fend for myself, cooking for one, officially a bug killer, single. Yes, there was that 8 or so months not long after you died where I was boyfriendless, but instead I attached myself to a best friend who I spent literally all my free time with. I was grieving, and I needed it. I needed someone, or something, to focus on to keep myself preoccupied from the hurt. I was just trying to survive then, but now, I am trying to live. So, I am single. I have no boyfriend and no definite best friend. Instead, I have a lot of close friends and acquaintances that I am spending equal amounts of time with, and it feels great. It's the first time that I feel like I don't need to tell a certain person what I'm doing all the time; if someone wants to grab lunch or go for a walk, I just can, and I don't need to report to a boyfriend or a super protective best friend. I'm a floater, and I like it. I feel like I can breathe.
With that being said, this is also the first time I feel like I am shaping myself rather than allowing others to influence me. I don't ask anyone's opinion on what I wear anymore because there's no one here to ask; no one is advising me on what to say to the cute boy that texted me, or what color curtain would look nice in the kitchen. It's all me now, and it's just so liberating.
In the same sense, it's also been a little scary from time to time. A few situations have arose where I realize just how damaged I am in some ways. Like I said, in the past I have always jumped from relationship to relationship. Having grown up watching my parents be completely in love, how could I not go from one three-year relationship to the next? I got so caught up in finding love and a person to complete me that I never stopped to ask myself why I feel incomplete in the first place.
Two of my past relationships have lacked some essential elements, and they've truly scarred me in a big way that I've never fully admitted to myself prior to, well, about two days ago. Someone that I care about made a negative comment about my hair-- yes, my hair-- and it literally sent me soaring head first off the deep end of the looney bin pool. That person had never said anything but positive things about my oh so astonishing, silky-smooth hair, so my feelings were really hurt. He looked at me as if the word "PSYCHOPATH" was instantaneously etched across my forehead. Thankfully, I had a sudden epiphany.
In my past relationships, it always seemed like things were going well, when out of the blue I'd hear, "Well, I love you, but I'm not in love with you," or, after my old roommate told me how adorable I looked before a date, I'd then hear, "What's with your eye shadow, and when did you get that weird shirt?" from my boyfriend. Seriously?! Seriously. My poor little ego. Rather than saying "screw you, a-hole" and going on my merry way like the confident woman I pretended to be would have done, I secretly tried to change. I wanted to be the girl he thought was marriage material, and I wanted to change my style and appearance to please the next one. I wanted to be different because I thought no one could love me if I was just... me. I never felt like I was enough just as I was.
For the first time, I know that I should feel worthy of being loved for exactly the person I am, and I know I should love myself enough to walk away from someone who needs me to change in order to be a part of my life. Between my last post and this one, I've realized that I know I should feel those things, but the catch is that I don't necessarily feel them about myself. I am currently damaged goods-- I'm broken in a lot of ways, and I see that now. I mean, I was two steps away from sending myself to the local mental health clinic because someone made a comment about my hair. Get a grip, woman! I need my opinion to matter above all others. I need to heal. I need time to rebuild my confidence. I need to figure out how to feel good about myself with no influence from others. I need to continue restoring the relationship I have with myself because then, and only then, will I truly be ready and able to have a healthy relationship with someone else.
That'll be my next first.
I love you,
Sami
May 18, 2011
The Only Constant is Change
Dear Mom,
I've said before that I feel like I'm settling somehow lately, and I couldn't figure out if it was the people I surround myself with, or just me. Turns out it was a little bit of both.
Over the past month I have ripped down, rebuilt, and replaced a series of relationships in my life, including the one I have with myself. It's been a pretty drastic change, and one that I haven't been ready to talk about until tonight.
For a little while now, I have felt like I've lost myself. I just wasn't willing to admit it. It's like I suddenly got sucked into a life of a boring, lonely old lady and completely stopped even attempting to be the spunky little 23-year-old that I am on the inside. I grew comfortable in a life of going to bed at 9pm on a Saturday night, passing on a night out with my girlfriends for no good reason, and sitting in front of the TV whenever I got some downtime. When did I let myself become that person? I love being spontaneous, meeting new people, laughing, and living an exciting, active lifestyle. I used to dream of moving out of the state; I used to dream of being a famous journalist; I used to dream of making my mark on the world in even the smallest way-- I used to dream, period. When did I stop dreaming? And more importantly, why?
After you died, I focused so much on how short your life was that I panicked and started living so fast. I wanted to do everything immediately and got so wrapped up in it that I didn't even recognize myself. Then, I made a change and started spending time with people who lived a slower paced life, which ultimately brought mine to a screeching halt. I allowed that to carry on for years to the point where I simply got comfortable. I was comfortable working at a mediocre job, living in a town that hardly anyone has heard of, spending all my time with people who weren't necessarily a right fit for me. It was easy and achievable.
One little quote changed my outlook. I can't remember where I read it or who said or when, but I do know that I haven't been able to get it out of my head ever since.
"You say life is short, but it is the longest thing you'll ever do."
I never thought of it that way before. Talk about a wake-up call. Life is actually pretty freaking long-- and I'm going to spend it like this? Absolutely not.
In a matter of weeks my life has turned upside-down in some of the best ways. I rekindled relationships with old friends who should have never left my life. I reevaluated what I'm looking for in a partner and am single for the first time in years. I realized that I want more for myself than I've actually allowed myself to feel deserving of in the past. I feel confident, happy, and excited about my life and my future for the first time in so long.
I let my grief and fear of death completely overtake me. Watching you die when I was 19 years old truly shook me to my core in more ways than I had ever realized. I started to look at life as a countdown; a ticking time bomb. Something in the past few months just clicked for me out of nowhere, and I can see now that life has been patiently waiting for me to go out and live it.
Now that's exactly what I intend to do!
Love,
Sami
I've said before that I feel like I'm settling somehow lately, and I couldn't figure out if it was the people I surround myself with, or just me. Turns out it was a little bit of both.
Over the past month I have ripped down, rebuilt, and replaced a series of relationships in my life, including the one I have with myself. It's been a pretty drastic change, and one that I haven't been ready to talk about until tonight.
For a little while now, I have felt like I've lost myself. I just wasn't willing to admit it. It's like I suddenly got sucked into a life of a boring, lonely old lady and completely stopped even attempting to be the spunky little 23-year-old that I am on the inside. I grew comfortable in a life of going to bed at 9pm on a Saturday night, passing on a night out with my girlfriends for no good reason, and sitting in front of the TV whenever I got some downtime. When did I let myself become that person? I love being spontaneous, meeting new people, laughing, and living an exciting, active lifestyle. I used to dream of moving out of the state; I used to dream of being a famous journalist; I used to dream of making my mark on the world in even the smallest way-- I used to dream, period. When did I stop dreaming? And more importantly, why?
After you died, I focused so much on how short your life was that I panicked and started living so fast. I wanted to do everything immediately and got so wrapped up in it that I didn't even recognize myself. Then, I made a change and started spending time with people who lived a slower paced life, which ultimately brought mine to a screeching halt. I allowed that to carry on for years to the point where I simply got comfortable. I was comfortable working at a mediocre job, living in a town that hardly anyone has heard of, spending all my time with people who weren't necessarily a right fit for me. It was easy and achievable.
One little quote changed my outlook. I can't remember where I read it or who said or when, but I do know that I haven't been able to get it out of my head ever since.
"You say life is short, but it is the longest thing you'll ever do."
I never thought of it that way before. Talk about a wake-up call. Life is actually pretty freaking long-- and I'm going to spend it like this? Absolutely not.
In a matter of weeks my life has turned upside-down in some of the best ways. I rekindled relationships with old friends who should have never left my life. I reevaluated what I'm looking for in a partner and am single for the first time in years. I realized that I want more for myself than I've actually allowed myself to feel deserving of in the past. I feel confident, happy, and excited about my life and my future for the first time in so long.
I let my grief and fear of death completely overtake me. Watching you die when I was 19 years old truly shook me to my core in more ways than I had ever realized. I started to look at life as a countdown; a ticking time bomb. Something in the past few months just clicked for me out of nowhere, and I can see now that life has been patiently waiting for me to go out and live it.
Now that's exactly what I intend to do!
Love,
Sami
May 17, 2011
Welcome Home
Dear Mom,
I got out of the shower this morning to find a missed call from Dad on my cell phone. He said your mom ('Nanny' to all of us grandkids) was given just hours to live, and I should drive home immediately. I threw a bag together in record time and was out the door. Halfway into my two hour drive to the hospital, my phone rang again...
I was too late.
It turns out she died before I had even left my house... ironically, at that very minute I had been bracing myself against the kitchen counter before I got in the car, trying to keep it together and praying to God to be with her.
He was... and so were you. When I got to the hospital, I was told that just before she died she lifted her hand-- palm-up-- into the air and smiled. I have no doubts that it was you by His side as He took her hand and welcomed her home.
I had a hard time being sad at first. A mother and daughter were reunited today for all of eternity; that is something that I only dream of, and you two got to experience that. I felt a weird calm about it all-- that is, until all of our family left the hospital but me (and your friend Lois, who is an absolute angel and stayed by my side), and I decided to see Nanny's body.
That's when things got real for me. I took one step into the doorway, saw her dead body slumped over in that hospital bed, and literally gasped. I had to look away; I was frozen; tears streaming down my face. I didn't even recognize her. I was instantly brought back to a place-- a feeling-- that I had so desperately tried to forget three years ago.
Grandpa looked at Dad as he was leaving earlier and said, "I don't know how you do this." The truth is, we don't either. We just... do. We have no other choice but to keep going. It's that simple... and that complicated.
I love you,
Sami
I got out of the shower this morning to find a missed call from Dad on my cell phone. He said your mom ('Nanny' to all of us grandkids) was given just hours to live, and I should drive home immediately. I threw a bag together in record time and was out the door. Halfway into my two hour drive to the hospital, my phone rang again...
I was too late.
It turns out she died before I had even left my house... ironically, at that very minute I had been bracing myself against the kitchen counter before I got in the car, trying to keep it together and praying to God to be with her.
He was... and so were you. When I got to the hospital, I was told that just before she died she lifted her hand-- palm-up-- into the air and smiled. I have no doubts that it was you by His side as He took her hand and welcomed her home.
I had a hard time being sad at first. A mother and daughter were reunited today for all of eternity; that is something that I only dream of, and you two got to experience that. I felt a weird calm about it all-- that is, until all of our family left the hospital but me (and your friend Lois, who is an absolute angel and stayed by my side), and I decided to see Nanny's body.
That's when things got real for me. I took one step into the doorway, saw her dead body slumped over in that hospital bed, and literally gasped. I had to look away; I was frozen; tears streaming down my face. I didn't even recognize her. I was instantly brought back to a place-- a feeling-- that I had so desperately tried to forget three years ago.
Grandpa looked at Dad as he was leaving earlier and said, "I don't know how you do this." The truth is, we don't either. We just... do. We have no other choice but to keep going. It's that simple... and that complicated.
I love you,
Sami
May 8, 2011
The Mother's Day Blues
Dear Mom,
Today is Mother's Day. Despite my good intentions, of course I started crying completely unexpectedly right when I woke up this morning. It's just so bittersweet. I feel lucky to have known you, and I always will, but there's that part of me that will just remain sad. I'm sad that I will never buy you another sappy Mother's Day card or cheesy gift; I'm sad that I will slowly forget exactly how your voice sounded; I'm sad that you never got the chance to be one of those cool moms on Facebook, or own an iPhone, or watch the season finale of Survivor (and the new season too-- you would love it!).
I try to replace all of the "didn't's" and "couldn't's" and "will never's" with thoughts of all the things we did get to do together, and it gets easier to do so, but sometimes I still need to just let myself feel whatever the heck I want to-- and today I feel sad. And tearful. And cheated. And I just... well, I feel bad for myself.
A lot of my sadness used to come from feeling sad for you and the fact that you had to leave us all by yourself, but honestly, my guess is that Heaven kicks some serious butt and you aren't thinking twice about this place. Lucky. Angels probably don't have to shave their legs, purchase tampons, or struggle through hangovers (clearly listing the most important things in life here...). Angels live the best life-- a blessed life-- and experience the eternal life that the rest of us just dream about and hope for. I just know that, today, you are happy.
Hmm... you are happy. I haven't said or thought that in a while.
I think I just performed therapy on myself by accident. That was weird. There went the rest of my rant for the day.
You are happy.
And now so am I.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I love you so much.
Love,
Sami
Today is Mother's Day. Despite my good intentions, of course I started crying completely unexpectedly right when I woke up this morning. It's just so bittersweet. I feel lucky to have known you, and I always will, but there's that part of me that will just remain sad. I'm sad that I will never buy you another sappy Mother's Day card or cheesy gift; I'm sad that I will slowly forget exactly how your voice sounded; I'm sad that you never got the chance to be one of those cool moms on Facebook, or own an iPhone, or watch the season finale of Survivor (and the new season too-- you would love it!).
I try to replace all of the "didn't's" and "couldn't's" and "will never's" with thoughts of all the things we did get to do together, and it gets easier to do so, but sometimes I still need to just let myself feel whatever the heck I want to-- and today I feel sad. And tearful. And cheated. And I just... well, I feel bad for myself.
A lot of my sadness used to come from feeling sad for you and the fact that you had to leave us all by yourself, but honestly, my guess is that Heaven kicks some serious butt and you aren't thinking twice about this place. Lucky. Angels probably don't have to shave their legs, purchase tampons, or struggle through hangovers (clearly listing the most important things in life here...). Angels live the best life-- a blessed life-- and experience the eternal life that the rest of us just dream about and hope for. I just know that, today, you are happy.
Hmm... you are happy. I haven't said or thought that in a while.
I think I just performed therapy on myself by accident. That was weird. There went the rest of my rant for the day.
You are happy.
And now so am I.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I love you so much.
Love,
Sami
April 25, 2011
Life's Private Parts (the PG-13 kind)
Dear Mom,
I have a blogging buddy who practically lives a double life. She drives herself to chemo treatments, writes under an alias, and even her own roommates don't know she has cancer. I never understood this-- how could she not want the support? How could she keep such a huge part of her life to herself?
Well, now I know.
Like I told you last week, I started a new job a few weeks ago. I've lost track of how many times your death could have easily slipped into a conversation with various new co-workers, but each time, I've stopped myself. But why? I miss you; I miss calling you on my drive home to tell you about my day; I miss making new memories together; I miss feeling complete. But what I don't miss, is the way someone looks at me when I tell them my mom is dead; the instant frown; the pity behind their eyes; the sympathy in their voice. I will never miss that because I shouldn't even know what that looks like in the first place.
So, I get it. I completely understand why my friend doesn't walk around airing her personal life to anyone who will listen. It's refreshing to just blend in for a change and to not be the girl that makes people realize their lives aren't that bad in comparison. Especially since my last place of employment sucked the energy and happiness right out of me on a daily basis, it's nice that I'm now somewhere where I can just keep it light. I'll save the serious stuff for those who help get me through it... after all, you aren't supposed to share your private parts with just anyone, right?
Love,
Sami
I have a blogging buddy who practically lives a double life. She drives herself to chemo treatments, writes under an alias, and even her own roommates don't know she has cancer. I never understood this-- how could she not want the support? How could she keep such a huge part of her life to herself?
Well, now I know.
Like I told you last week, I started a new job a few weeks ago. I've lost track of how many times your death could have easily slipped into a conversation with various new co-workers, but each time, I've stopped myself. But why? I miss you; I miss calling you on my drive home to tell you about my day; I miss making new memories together; I miss feeling complete. But what I don't miss, is the way someone looks at me when I tell them my mom is dead; the instant frown; the pity behind their eyes; the sympathy in their voice. I will never miss that because I shouldn't even know what that looks like in the first place.
So, I get it. I completely understand why my friend doesn't walk around airing her personal life to anyone who will listen. It's refreshing to just blend in for a change and to not be the girl that makes people realize their lives aren't that bad in comparison. Especially since my last place of employment sucked the energy and happiness right out of me on a daily basis, it's nice that I'm now somewhere where I can just keep it light. I'll save the serious stuff for those who help get me through it... after all, you aren't supposed to share your private parts with just anyone, right?
Love,
Sami
April 18, 2011
I'm Alive!
(Originally written 4/9/11)
Dear Mom,
Today is Dad's birthday! I visited him last weekend, and we had lots of great conversations. I can honestly say he is better, and happier, and that makes me breathe a sigh of relief. It's been a long road, and it's still going to wind and twist along the way, but for now, he is having a smoother ride.
I've been a little MIA in the past week and a half because I have been transitioning from my old job to somewhere brand new and wonderful! I used to have a lot of downtime during my schedule previously, so I was able to write more, but that's not the case here (we can't even use our cell phones!) The position itself isn't where I see myself down the road, but if I move up through the company I could get into the communications section of it and fit in perfectly. It's something to work towards and has brought me a million steps ahead of where I was just 11 days ago, so I can't complain about that!
Last night I was so exhausted from my first week of work and training that I passed right out when my head hit my pillow. I was woken up around 1AM when, yet again, a roommate drunkenly staggered into the house and not-so-gracefully found her way to her room down the hall (I love my friends, I do, but it's just another reminder of how different from them I've become. They even call me 'mom'!). I laid there and listened to her to make sure she wasn't sick or in need of any help (here I go again with the TMMs...), but she seemed alright. I tried to fall back asleep, when out of nowhere I started sobbing. I was having one of those 'holy crap, how did I get here?!' kind of moments. It was the first time in weeks that time had slowed long enough for me to just think about me... and you.
As happy as I am that dad is honestly doing well, it also made me feel more isolated from everyone. I felt like I was crossing another name off the list of fellow grievers, and to tell you the truth, I'm not even sure who's on it anymore besides me. It's not a constant feeling of sadness anymore like it used to be; the waves of grief are spaced out, but during their off time they are only building up their strength to come crashing down when I least expect it. Like at 1AM on a Friday when I had already been sleeping for three hours.
I think what is upsetting me more now is the fact that all this time is passing. It's been almost 3.5 years already. How have I lived without you for 3.5 years? And time will only continue to increase. Even as I write this, I am minutes further from the last time I saw your face. It just makes me sad to know that eventually, the time I have spent without you is going to surpass the 19 years I knew you. I have always said that I was lucky to have you in my life for 19 years, and I still believe that, but seriously? What the (insert inappropriate word that I would use if I were a normal 23-year-old here)! Nineteen years is hardly no time at all. It's not fair. I know, I know, life's not fair, but why? Why does it have to be unfair?
So I guess this is where I'm at now (and by now, I mean April 18th, nine days after I started writing this post. I really am slacking!). I'm at a weird transition where I feel like fewer people understand me (especially being at a new job where no one knows anything about you--which may actually be a good thing since clearly it only made me a target before); where I feel like I have nothing else to say at this point rather than 'grief is stupid'; where I am honestly at a crossroads with a lot of my relationships because I suddenly just feel like an outsider. Even the people who used to add the most to my life, suddenly aren't. Do I ask too much of people? Do I think I deserve more than I actually do? All I know is that you gave me the world, I was spoiled, and now no one else really measures up. When I step back and look at some of the people around me, I just feel like I'm settling. Is it them... or me?
Hoping to get out of this rut and find my way back to my old self, happiness, and writing.
Love,
Sami
Dear Mom,
Today is Dad's birthday! I visited him last weekend, and we had lots of great conversations. I can honestly say he is better, and happier, and that makes me breathe a sigh of relief. It's been a long road, and it's still going to wind and twist along the way, but for now, he is having a smoother ride.
I've been a little MIA in the past week and a half because I have been transitioning from my old job to somewhere brand new and wonderful! I used to have a lot of downtime during my schedule previously, so I was able to write more, but that's not the case here (we can't even use our cell phones!) The position itself isn't where I see myself down the road, but if I move up through the company I could get into the communications section of it and fit in perfectly. It's something to work towards and has brought me a million steps ahead of where I was just 11 days ago, so I can't complain about that!
Last night I was so exhausted from my first week of work and training that I passed right out when my head hit my pillow. I was woken up around 1AM when, yet again, a roommate drunkenly staggered into the house and not-so-gracefully found her way to her room down the hall (I love my friends, I do, but it's just another reminder of how different from them I've become. They even call me 'mom'!). I laid there and listened to her to make sure she wasn't sick or in need of any help (here I go again with the TMMs...), but she seemed alright. I tried to fall back asleep, when out of nowhere I started sobbing. I was having one of those 'holy crap, how did I get here?!' kind of moments. It was the first time in weeks that time had slowed long enough for me to just think about me... and you.
As happy as I am that dad is honestly doing well, it also made me feel more isolated from everyone. I felt like I was crossing another name off the list of fellow grievers, and to tell you the truth, I'm not even sure who's on it anymore besides me. It's not a constant feeling of sadness anymore like it used to be; the waves of grief are spaced out, but during their off time they are only building up their strength to come crashing down when I least expect it. Like at 1AM on a Friday when I had already been sleeping for three hours.
I think what is upsetting me more now is the fact that all this time is passing. It's been almost 3.5 years already. How have I lived without you for 3.5 years? And time will only continue to increase. Even as I write this, I am minutes further from the last time I saw your face. It just makes me sad to know that eventually, the time I have spent without you is going to surpass the 19 years I knew you. I have always said that I was lucky to have you in my life for 19 years, and I still believe that, but seriously? What the (insert inappropriate word that I would use if I were a normal 23-year-old here)! Nineteen years is hardly no time at all. It's not fair. I know, I know, life's not fair, but why? Why does it have to be unfair?
-------
So I guess this is where I'm at now (and by now, I mean April 18th, nine days after I started writing this post. I really am slacking!). I'm at a weird transition where I feel like fewer people understand me (especially being at a new job where no one knows anything about you--which may actually be a good thing since clearly it only made me a target before); where I feel like I have nothing else to say at this point rather than 'grief is stupid'; where I am honestly at a crossroads with a lot of my relationships because I suddenly just feel like an outsider. Even the people who used to add the most to my life, suddenly aren't. Do I ask too much of people? Do I think I deserve more than I actually do? All I know is that you gave me the world, I was spoiled, and now no one else really measures up. When I step back and look at some of the people around me, I just feel like I'm settling. Is it them... or me?
Hoping to get out of this rut and find my way back to my old self, happiness, and writing.
Love,
Sami
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