Orphan

It’s been a month since my Grief Breakdown; now the sheer panic borne of my primal abandonment issues has bubbled up, out, and over. 

First, I would like to publicly acknowledge and THANK all those who have sat with me through my wailing “PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME” moments of late.  At least Spirit has directed me to be in those moments with people who understand (1) my tendency for delayed reaction; and (2) that’s really what I wanted to say to my Dad during those last 40 hours.

So now I’m in a phase where big squeaky weeping happens throughout a conversation.  I’m starting to share the details of my time in California and as I do, I realize I am processing for the first time the miraculous.  The human brain is not constructed to linearly comprehend miracles; it just isn’t.  It’s constructed to accept miracles, but not understand them.

Personally, the only way I can achieve peace in a difficult situation is by understanding it.  I will work and think and analyze and gather data and ask questions and pray and meditate and vibrate and occasionally call on my Gypsy Grandma to help me understand a situation so I can make it my bitch and be done with it.

I’m not sure how much more my physical body can take.  These moments of realization are filled with so much joy and grief in the same moment that all I can do to work the energy out of my body is that squeaky weeping. 

You know my eyes leak on a regular basis over the poignancy of Life but this, this weeping…I’ve never experienced anything like it.  Just like everything else in my life is at a whole new level, so is the eye leaking. 

Since I’ve been home, I’ve purposefully avoided acquaintances, remembering quite clearly from when my Mama died the human tendency to say the worst possible thing ever to a grieving person.  I don’t have the emotional fortitude to be in my own storm and also weather someone else’s.  Having once endured the “Now you’re an orphan” comment, I will not again.

Second, I’m STUNNED over the offense acquaintances are taking over my unavailability.  I’ve been home over two months and not one of these “friends” has offered tea or sympathy or comfort or kindness or a meal.  They have all expressed “hurt” over *my* lack of being there for them.  How can they not understand my whole existence changed and it’s taking everything I have (plus 10%) to adjust?  God forbid someone offer help rather than demand it.

The Doctor is Out and she may never come back:  (1) She didn’t want to be a psychologist in the first place; and (2) She wasn’t really into the free counseling business.  She’s a lifelong people pleaser who’s trying to put herself first, before strangers who don’t have the common sense or courtesy or decency to realize she’s in need.

In other words, I used up every single ounce of my mojo being there for my Dad.  I am an empty vessel in need of filling, not more draining.