Stream of Consciousness: On Overdrive & Hating It

It is a little past 1:30 in the morning & I can't sleep. My thoughts are swimming in my head so fast - it feels like tidal waves repeatably crashing upon the rocks & rushing the shore with no mercy in sight.

Just hours ago, I attended the viewing of a life long neighbor & family friend. She was always a good neighbor, but even a better friend.

Her daughter Sandy used to babysit me when I was little & we've been friends off & on throughout the years. Funny how people lose touch as time goes on. I hate that.

I'm six months along this strange journey that Sandy & her siblings are embarking on. I do not envy them. No one who has been here would.

I've been crying a lot tonight. It's just displaced grief that has surfaced. Untouched grief that is yet to be explored from Dad, Aunt Elaine, & even Mandy - I think.

On top of all that mom has had some health concerns that are causing me to feel somewhat on edge. Nothing too serious, but compounded with everything else just make my brain go a little on overdrive. I hate overdrive.

I try to take some deep breaths, but that is little relief. It is hard to put a name to my feelings & thoughts. I hate that too. Honestly, that has been happening a lot lately, more often then not.

All I think to say is - I 'm scared. Scared of what I don't know & can't put a name to it. This has happened before. The most clear example of this I can recall is the evening after dad died.

He died on a Friday & by Saturday night, I sought refuge at Theresa's house & spent the night. I was hell bent on not changing any plans that were already set before my world came crashing down. So there I was. Something that probably saved my life & sanity, in more ways than one.

All I could say was I'm scared. She would ask what I was scared of & I would tell her I don't know, unable to put a name to it. Months later, here I sit with that same feeling & still at a loss of words as ever.

And I hate it.

Dad: Six Months Gone

Here I sit, in my church, before the srevice starts, & Johnny Cash's rendition of "Personal Jesus" plays.

How ironic. So very ironic. You would find this ironic if you knew him too. People used to call him Cowboy Cash, as he could always be found at the local tavern singing a Johnny Cash song or two on karaoke night.

My mind is a million & one miles away. Not exactly where it's supposed to be in church. Then again, maybe this is where exactly I'm supposed to be. Thoughts of my dad engulf ever crevass of my brain. And part of me hates that.

Every morning, as I awake & become aware of the world around me. The world feels unfilimar & something's a miss. Something's just not right.

Then I remember - Dad is gone.

And everyday I have to remind myself of that. Still. Secretly, in silience I am in pain. My heart is hurting. I so desprately want relief & wonder when it will come.

I am so tired. I am so tired of being alive. Not in a life vs. death sense, but rather a being alive vs. living sense.

Time has ticked on at a rapid pace. I cannot fathom that 6 months has passed when it seems like only weeks. Yet, there are periods that time seems to stand still. Or maybe it is me standing still.

Stuck.

Blogger's Block

Regardless of the relationship, there is a security that exists when your parents are alive. For me, I didn't even realize it existed until it wasn't there or to be more accurate - until Dad wasn't there.

It has been strange how time has moved on. So slowly, yet incredibly fast. I would have to say there are more good days then bad right at the moment; however, when they are bad they are really bad.

For whatever reason, on more mornings then not, I still find myself having to remember that Dad is gone. I wonder when the nightmares & strange dreams will stop. I have been told by those who have already walked the path of losing a parent that this is normal.

I am incredibly grateful for my friends, the selected few of which I can count on one hand who have consistently been there & been a great support. I truly don't know what I would do without them. And on the other hand I can count more friends who have helped me in their own way & in their own time - for them I am grateful too.

As if it is some type of writer's block, there is so much I want to say, but I just can't find the words to say them in. So much that I want to blog about, but I just either can't find the words or don't have the desire at the moment to blog about. Good stuff that has nothing to do with grief.

This is so not what I wanted my blog to be about. One death after another - a strange journey to live life while living through other's deaths. I used to love to write post, but now I struggle to do things I used to love. Everything is still to complicated.

Secretly, I wonder when these post will be more about life then death, but I know better than to try & force something than not to blog about where I truly am at in the moment. This is where I am in my journey & I just need to honor it & be here - not to push it away.

So, here it is, this strange blogger's block that I find myself in. Hoping that I once again will find myself again & a new normal, one post at a time.