The new me

What am I running away from that has to do with Mary.  This is the question from my counselor.  I have been thinking about this since my last visit.  I don't like to use past tense verbs when I talk about Mary.  I start to write them and then change them.   I don't go down to see her tree much.  I look at it from the window.  I really need to go down there to get rid of the weeds starting to grow and plant some grass and make it look better. I can look at pictures of her from afar but if I see her face clearly, it hurts and I start to choke, my heart starts to race, and I hold my breath. I do have pics of her on the dash of my car but they are from a distance.  If I start talking about Mary to someone I am fine.  If someone asks about her sometimes I can't even open my mouth to answer.   I avoid going to Hayesville even though Carol and Donnie are there.  We've only go when that man has a court appearance.  Next one is August and the big one is September.  When I am up there I avoid looking down the road we should be taking to go to Mary's.  I have never been back to her house.  


I wish there was something I could do to make that man's life miserable now. I hate to see him strutting around.    I hate more now than I ever have before.  Those TV shows that show a parent forgiving the person that hurt their child are crap.  I can't imagine forgiving anyone who hurts anyone in my family.  


I've tried "finding a new path" but it's not working.  I'm not going anywhere.  I haven't done anything positive since last year.  I feel like I've been going in circles.  I have completely given up doing anything with art.  Packed everything up.  Even when to Good Will today to drop stuff off and found two pair of pants and did NOT even look at the stuff I usually dig through.  Kinda wanted to but I just ignored the devil on my shoulder.  

I'm thinking I might start crocheting again. I like doing that.  Mary likes it.  Maybe if I started doing the things that we have in common again I can accomplish something.  Instead of running away from the good things I have to find the good things.  We both like gardening, cooking, and sewing.  I'm not sure I'm ready to make her purses but I have lots of material to make tops for Cindy and myself.  Cindy's sewing machine is here - Mary gave it to her for Christmas.  


I am avoiding doing my taxes.  I really, really need to do that.  I am avoiding painting the living room so I'm going to paint the hallway.  If I do the ceiling from the hall on it will make a smooth transition into the living room ceiling.  I have to finish it sometime.


I avoid telling myself "Mary would want this or that".  Because it is not really her talking.  It's just what I want to think she's saying. 


I do see things or places that I think Mary would like.  But that's not hard to say because it doesn't have a tense.  I say "if Mary were here she would..." usually for an action.  I always used to say that before anyway.   And, I avoid talking or thinking about that week last year.  It's always "before" or "after".  I refer to her memorial service as her Party.  Everyone seems to know what I'm talking about.  


My sister's granddaughter is getting married in June - the weekend after Mary's date.  I DO NOT LIKE TALKING ABOUT THAT.  It's in Virginia so we aren't going.  They are all so excited and happy and I feel badly that it hurts me so much to see them happy and excited.  


I have been cleaning out my closets and drawers and getting rid of things that have been sitting around for ages.  I have to do something to move myself or I'm going to rot sitting here.  If I can't make myself into something new and different I will analyze what I have left and see what can be salvaged.  I must look into myself to find me not outside.  I will be closer to Mary by being myself than by running from myself.  I don't have to be a new me, just a different me.


Now let's see how I'm going to feel a few months from now.

Never stops hurting

I met a lady on fb whose son was killed last year.  We exchanged a few messages and I told her about my journal.  I hope she doesn't read it.  It will hurt too much.  Just talking to her made me hurt too much.  Looking at her fb pages, the dedications to her son, caused me such pain that I can't talk to her anymore.  She needs her time, I need mine and we don't need to bleed on each other.  We may share the same path but we have to keep from stepping on each other's toes.  Maybe this is why I can't go to Compassionate Friends.  It hurts too much.  I have grown accustomed to the blanket over my head and heart, shielding me from truths.  I tell myself little lies so it won't hurt too much.  Keep myself busy, occupied so I don't think too much.

I hope she understands.

Now, back to NOT doing art, back to digging in the garden, cleaning out the house, and making my list.

Mary Mary I love you so.  Been talking to Tony off and on.  He's probably avoiding just like me.  It gets us through the days.  We hang on to each other.
 

Avoidance is the best medicine

I don't know how to explain what changed today, last night, last week.  I have packed up all my "art" stuff and put it away for awhile.  Maybe forever, I just don't know.  I just know it wasn't working like I had hoped it would.  Maybe I'm just not the artist I thought I was or could be.  Don't have the time or dedication or inclination or focus.  It just wasn't working.  It didn't feel right.  I could see all sorts of things in my head but they never materialized.  

So, I'm back to digging in the yard, "my garden", painting my walls and fixing up the house.  I got up this morning and packed up everything on the pool table down stairs.  Threw away stuff I would never use in a thousand years, cleaned out boxes, reorganized other stuff, washed clothes and dishes, made piles for Good Will.  There is so much to be done around the house that I can't ignore it anymore.  Mary is tapping me on the shoulder telling me to focus.  If I don't go downstairs so much maybe I can focus.

I have to list the things that I have been avoiding because they remind me of Mary.  Things I don't do, ignore, stay away from.  On the other hand there are things I attach myself to because they are Mary.  Her jewelry, clothes, pictures, belongings. 

Talking is good.

Some how I have to figure out how to keep going. And oddly enough I think the TV show NCIS character Gibbs is helping.  He lost his wife and daughter - murdered.  He got his revenge but this is a character, after all, and I can dream.  The more I watch the shows the more of his background comes out and shows little things he says and does that is his way to keeping his family alive.  He keeps things, like his daughters lunch box, so he can bring it out once in a while.  He is very direct, serious, matter of fact, and anti computer.  But extremely loyal and dedicated.  I also like the "In Plain Sight" character Mary.  Very, very non politically correct in her conversations and accusations.  
So, this week was not that great.  A guy who had been waiting for a heart at Emory didn't make it.  Each time I meet, get to know, and find out they're gone, someone on the transplant list, it hurts.  Hurts like hell.  For two reasons now.  I know how the family feels, and I'm afraid for Danny.  I never tell him about these things.  He didn't know him.  Then a lady everybody in the transplant community knew, died in her sleep.  Oh, my oh my oh my.

I realized last night that I am still very irritated that the ME didn't seem to do very much about trying to have Mary be a donor.  He wasn't very responsive to our phone calls even it if was in the middle of the night.  That's his job.  24 / 7.  You can't imagine how much it hurts or what I would give to have something of Mary walking this earth.  She would have been so happy to have helped as many people as possible.  Not with organs maybe, but with the other 40 something tissues that could have been used.  I realize she was hurt really bad.  But he could have actually talked to us. 

Happy's not happy anymore.

I know if I don't write this now I'll never get the chance.  Today is Mother's Day.  We had the kids all weekend.  They made cards for Julie and pictures.  Couldn't wait for today so they gave them to her Friday night and yesterday. Today she took them to a movie and Mc D's.  

I feel very wishy washy.  This weekend I don't want to do anything with art and wish I could box it all up.  Each day I go back and forth.  So this weekend I decided to get all my "stuff" out of Kerry's room and straighten up the bookcase under the TV in our bedroom.  We put the headboard on Cindy's bed and moved some things around.  Kerry roto-tilled the flower garden spot and planted my bushes.  I cleaned up the garage a little and painted the dresser. Had to do something to feel like I'm getting things done.  

I started picking up my stuff down stairs and sorting it into boxes to neaten up the pool table.  Got most of it looking better.  Then I walked up stairs and found a bouquet of flowers on the table with a card.  I thought it was from Julie.  I opened the card and it said "love Mary".  Instant tears.  Kerry got them for me.  I couldn't stop but I didn't want to breakdown in front of the kids.  I told Anna the flowers were from Mary and she said "Mary's dead. A prison man killed her."  I told her Mary lives in my heart and she said, "Yes, she's in my heart."  I wonder how much she'll remember when she gets older.  Mary's picture is all over the house and we talk about her all the time.  She accidentally broke a necklace that Mary gave her and she cried. So, she remembers some things.  

Heart Support group is tomorrow night.  I go even though they don't seem to be able to keep is non-religious.  But, you can't change people.  Wendy understands but I told her not to worry.  If it bugs me enough I'll say something.

Have a good Mother's day.

My journal

I think I might change my journal back to let others read it if they want to.  Not that people are asking to read it.  Just that keeping track of specific email addresses is a pain.  So, maybe I will.

There's a shadow hanging over me...

Life is calm.  Gabe and Anna are in bed, Julie is downstairs getting them to sleep, and Cindy is watching TV with Papa for a few minutes.  Danny is camping out at Lake Russel with friends.  And I am writing and watching TV at the same time.  

I've started making pages for the altered books I want to create.  I am forcing myself to do something.  Sometimes it looks cool and sometimes not so hot.  But I keep on keeping on, one page at a time.  I will focus on the action not on the accomplishment.  Repetition gets me through the days.  Even though there is no guarantee I will finish the page I'm working on, the movement of mind and matter reinforces the fact that life is continuing, with or without me.

I realized today that I have truly been able to compartmentalize my feelings.  I am really two people meld into one.  The first goes on about life as if Mary is away for awhile, on a trip, living in another state, etc.  But my shadow shows up when I'm thinking about the facts.  When I am confronted with reality.  I can be sitting at my desk at work talking to my colleague's and the next minute I have to close my door because I can't keep from crying, it's hard to breathe, and I can't think straight. Sometimes catching a glimpse of an email from her, seeing a picture I didn't expect to see, someone asking me about her, seeing a really large truck driving at me is all I need for the split to happen. 

I was watching Good Will Hunting last weekend for the 12th time at least. At one point Will and Sean are getting into it. 

               Will says, "Where's your "soul-mate?! Dead! 
               She dies and you just cash in your chips. 
                That's a fuckin' cop-out! 

                Sean says, "I been there. I played my hand. 

                Will says, "That's right. And you fuckin' lost!  
                And some people would have the sack 
                to lose a big hand like that and 
                still come back and ante up again!"

I can't decided if this conversation needs to be part of my and Tony's life or not.  It is sitting in the back of my mind.  I used to think I knew how I would react to specific situations even through I tell people "you don't know what you'd do till you get there".  It was a "do as I say not as I do" thing. Deep down part of me still believes that - since I feel I've been through hell and back - my hell, not someone else's.  God help me if I have to go through this again.  Tony is in Homer already.  Got there today.  New uncharted territory.  Beautiful place but with a little cloud hanging over.

Art

Been doing a lot of thinking lately. Tony is on his way to Alaska.  People think he's "moving" on.  We're both just moving.  

I've been trying to make some kind of art.  Started checking out library books on Collage, Assembled, and Altered art.  So far all I've done is look through the pictures, copy pages that look cool, and go to thrift stores and Hobby Lobby collecting "things" to put into art projects.  My basement is FULL of STUFF.  I sit down there and stare at Mary's pictures and look through all the stuff I've collected.  Just can't seem to find that little push to actually put paint, glue, ideas to paper.  Oh, I diggle at little things but they aren't any good.  All the pictures look so exciting.  I can see all kinds of creations in my mind and I try to write them down or sketch them.  But actually creating them is a different story.