Archive for the ‘motherhood’ Tag


not sure why.  had a good session (i really don’t like that term) with my therapist david.  i like working with him and he gave me some great advice to think about this week.  you know, about stuff.  stuff to make me better, to interpret things differently, to open my eyes about, to view the world or relationships from another angle.  i cried, as usual.  took up more time, as usual.  i left feeling pretty good, but it faded fast and it is now almost 2:00 and i am not a happy camper.  i keep crying unless my head is buried in a crappy show.  i couldn’t even engage in a proper debate about my love of unions with someone so excited about union dues being diverted…blah…blah..blah.  i can write about that shit for hours.  waste plenty of good cleaning and cooking time just writing about that subject alone.

maybe looking at tom’s photos were harder than i thought.  maybe david bringing up sophia’s graduation hit a nerve, because i did post a photo of tom today on my facebook page and commented on how she was about to graduate.  i told him she had tested in to this “special” academic center the night before he died.  maybe writing that he died is doing it, because i am crying worse now.  

died.  i have been saying died recently.  i used to say, “shot himself in the head,” or “committed suicide.” now i only say he committed suicide when i have to give a list of my drugs to a new doctor because i need a reason to be on any of them.

in general, things have been good.  vanessa sent a text with a abandoned kitten.  i brought her home and she is a lot of work.  she has kept me busy and i love taking care of babies.  i loved taking care of my human babies.  i really wanted another one after tom died.  toronto kiki chicken, as the newborn kitten has been named, really fills a lot of those mama activities and it has been good.  i am a good mom.  it is one of the things that i am really good at.  i am not perfect, but it is one of the best jobs i have ever done.  i have never tired of it and i give them a lot.  they are amazing, but we are done having kids and i need to figure out how to channel my energy into something else.  the computer work is fine sometimes, but i don’t know if i will be able to keep up with the pace.  it moves so quickly.

ImageI have been thinking about this guy a lot also.  i know how lucky i am to have him.  i know that.  our 19 year wedding anniversary was the other day.  i love this photo.  it captures the sadness in my eyes that *i* feel is the new me.  the one i posted the other day, was just a blip on the scan of my weeks.  it caught me out after a night with amazing women who make me laugh and who have stood by me in different ways through out all of this.  it captured the spark.  this shows the lights are out.  i love the image of sean, because he never smiles in photos, but he is smiling.  he is smiling and we are together, partners in crime, as we have been for 22 years.  i am so fucking lucky to have him in my life.  i know he is lucky also, but these two years…

i am doing better.  i am getting better.  i am smiling more at people and making small talk.  i am doing better.  i am taking my drugs and i am doing better.  i am going to therapy and i am doing better.  i keep waiting for summer and the beach, because i know things will be better on the beach. they always are.

i miss my brother sean.  i want to ask him to come out, but that man has come out so many times.  i just miss him.  he has been such a wonderful support to me.  my mom is coming soon and we are all so happy.  

the kids love her so damn much.  they have such a great relationship.  it is a different relationship than they have with me so i sit back and watch it in wonder and am happy.  i am happy for my mom to have these two awesome kids love her so much and see her as this amazing person and i am happy for my kids to have this bond with her.  she will be at sophia’s graduation.  my big girl getting ready for high school.  i am glad my mom will be there to see it.

okay.  i wrote.  i cried.  now, i will just wait for the meds to kick in and hope the crying is over for the day.

i am getting better.  i will go to your party, probably instead of there not being a chance.  

i will knit this weekend.  i need to finish my summer sweater.  i will go to a party.  i will empty the dishwasher and fill it.  i will do a little more than just be a good mama.  maybe i will even read about data bases. 


already wrote, already cried, already tired.

mumford and sons

i promised myself i would write today.  i don’t feel like i have much to offer the page.  i am pretty worn out from yesterday and today already.

sean and i talked a lot yesterday.  he doesn’t like how i talk about the old me as if it is not part of me anymore.  he thinks it is unhealthy and it scares him.  he has never liked the way i talk about my brain my brain being a separate entity.  i would say things like, “i just want to shut my brain the fuck up!!!!!” it has become more than that now, because i don’t feel like kim.  this is not kim.  if this is kim, then i fucking want to slap her and defriend her on facebook.

i talk a lot about how i don’t understand how sean can still love this person when he married someone so fucking different.  i know he is sick of hearing it.  i was never the girl to put on an outfit and prance in front of him and ask him, “do i look fat in this?”  i knew men hated then way more than any outfit.  that constant need for complements could drive them crazy, so i just didn’t do it.  i stepped back and knew he for whatever reason found me to be a goddess.  i would not place doubt in that thought process.  if i had one man find me to be a fucking goddess, then just shut the fuck up and go out in the outfit and have fun. i have become that woman.  i look at him all the time and ask him why he still wants to be married to me. i am different.  i am not kim.  i am someone else and kim is not coming back.  usually he is silent.  yesterday he had enough.

he told me i was kim.  i am kim.  I AM KIM!!!!!!!!  all the things i talk about that don’t make me kim are just tasks and they don’t define me.  he looks at me and he still sees me…the only me that will ever be there. there is no replacement.  other things have changed that would have changed my behavior and the way i ran the house anyhow.

what he doesn’t understand if that i don’t feel like kim. i don’t feel like me.  i don’t feel like my skin fits me. i don’t know who is staring back at me in the mirror.  i tell him so many other suicide survivors describe this so i know it is true.  i tell him i think my therapist says it is normal and that letting go of the old me is part of the process of finding and and excepting what is coming down the line.  he is trying to understand it, but it scares the shit out of him.  he saw my breakdown.  i didn’t write during my breakdown.  i didn’t write about thinking the meds were poisoning me and that i would double over in pain or pull my hair or at my eyes.  that i didn’t understand why i still had eyes.  i believed they should have been scratched out when tom died.  that the appropriate reaction was to scratch my eyes out and since i didn’t something was wrong and i was being poisoned.  he lived through this and much, much more.  pulling me out of the tub and getting me ready for the hospital.  admitting me and then seeing the fear in my eyes as i looked around then  trying to get the nurse to release me.  watching me curl up into a ball crying hysterically over and over, but in the setting of the hospital is was unbearable and he just wanted to bring me home and watch over me himself.  he lived through that.  i talked a lot about myself in the third person as my mind shattered.  i understand why he can’t hear me talk about letting go of a me i know will never come back.  i don’t know how to word it.

i also cried in front of him for 45 minutes.  then rocked back and forth and told him that the fact that i was crying and talking was good.  that i know it is painful for him to see, but i am not walking around with a thick wall around me unable to meet his gaze.  unable to look at his eyes full of emotion, because mine are dead most of the time.  the fact that i was crying and identifying emotions with words and ideas was good.  that i have been stuck and i am trying to move forward and it will be messing, bu ti can’t keep falling.  i can’t keep pulling my shit together and then completely falling apart and landing back in bed.

i go to a site for survivors of suicide.  i mostly put on a happy face there.  i reach out to every single new member and write them a personalized response.  i try to make sure that none of them are the same even if it is the fifth one i am writing that day.  i also have started following with interest certain members.  i try to remember them on days i know will be hard and try to watch for their posts.  i have opened up a few times.  started a thread for myself, but mostly i go there to try to keep the armor on and reach out to those who are in a much more painful place than me.

so between here and there i have been writing.  between here and there and my conversation with sean, i have been working really hard.  i want to break free from this grief.  i know it is very normal to still be in so much pain after a suicide and after the tragic way things played out, but i only have this one life and i can not spend much more of it this way.

there is a mumford and sons song i have been listening to that has been reminding me about how lucky i am to have such an awesome family and really lucky to have such amazing brothers.  i think of all the times both of them have held me up.

Sun and the smell of dirt

i fell again.  the hole was much shallower, but i fell down the hole and stayed put for a few months.  the strain of my husband is starting to show.  little tiny cracks that he bandages quickly and stoically moves on. stoically moves on with his wounds never attended to as i continue to lick mine in a corner by myself.

i love being by myself now.  i could spend a week without any contact except through the computer and texts.  

i am on a new drug.  cymbalta is going to try to boost my mood, while i work with a new therapist to unwind my grief.  in all honesty, i really don’t think tom is dead.  if he came to my door right now, i would just hug him and offer to make scones.  i don’t know how to accept his death.  i know how to feel depressed by it and become a person that i loathe by it, but i don’t know how to accept that he is gone.   

i like my new therapist.  he gave me a book by epictetus. i will start to read it tonight and see how it sets. i finished the hunger game series which just got me all worked up about how the war is eating away at our children’s souls. think it is time for some adult reading.  

i am following the chicago bulls as they fall apart.  i am watching the heat and thinking about the discussions tom and i would be having about it all and wondering how much money he would be winning or losing along the way.  

india sent me a blog started by a sibling recovering from the loss of her brother to suicide.

kind of a long address, but it was good for me to see someone else dealing with the grief of losing a brother.  i will try to follow her through her journey.  

vanessa has been handing out words.  words i have never heard from her before.  they are reaching something inside, but i don’t know…i will keep moving forward and hope to catch up to a place that i can understand and fully show up at her doorstep a whole person again.

janet calls during her commute a lot and we try to catch up.  we both have our own things, but i dominate the conversation.  i have a list for anyone who wants to listen to me any more.  the list has not shrunk.  the list still includes all the old crap and there is always something new to mix in.

i am trying to focus on what i am doing instead of what i am failing to do.  i am still failing to do so much.  the list becomes overwhelming and i decide i hate the person i am now and if this is who i have to live with for the rest of my life…well…it is not going to be an enjoyable trip.  focusing on what i am accomplishing helps some, but then i worry i am letting myself off the hook.

i will come through this different.  new.  better. changed. all of this is supposed to be okay.  all of this is supposed to make me fight it less…i think.  maybe it is to make me accept it.  maybe it is to make me struggle less so i can rise from the quicksand.  the problem is that quicksand isn’t real.  it is from the movies.  i think the new shiny and better person with the new haircut and better hygiene is also a plot from the movies.  i look at how much i have aged in the past two years.  how long i go between dying my hair or hopping in the shower or washing the floors and i wonder how this is going to end.  when will the big loofa come and scrub off all the dead skin cells and reveal this stronger human.  work, work, work. i am working and will keep my eyes out for the hollywood me.  until then, i will count what i get done.

blogged. check. went out and laughed 3 months ago. check!Image