A Bad Day

I miss my mom so much. Her death has changed not just my life, but my entire family. Nothing is the same and I don't know how to navigate this new world.  I don't know how to figure out how to go on. Some days I just want to erase all my memories. Everything. Wipe the mind clean and start over. And then I think about how my mom shaped who I am. And I don't know why she isn't here anymore. I don't know why I couldn't help her. And I don't understand how she could leave all of us.

I'm worried about my Dad. I'm worried about my brother. And I'm worried about me. I feel like I need to be stronger and take care of things, but I don't feel like I can. I'm overwhelmed. I feel like a failure. And worst of all, I feel weak. I wish I had someone to lean on, but I don't. And not having that makes me feel insecure, and wanting it makes me feel weak. I feel like I have to take care of everything. And I don't know how. I don't know where to start and I know I need help. But who do you ask for help? 

Anger and Jealousy

I'm angry that everyone else in my life still has their mom. Of course that's not rational, and I know it. But I still feel angry. And underneath the anger, is jealousy. That's what it really is. At least I think it is. I'm jealous that other people can still call their mom's and they make them feel better. I'm jealous that people can still fight with their mom's.

The thing that sucks is that I'm having a REALLY hard fucking time. And normally when I'm having a hard time, I call my mom. I go home and talk to her about. She was always honest and frank with me. Sometimes, at least initially, I didn't like what she had to say, but she way ALWAYS right. And I don't have that anymore. I feel lost. And sad. And scared. 

I'm dreading so many things in my life because she's not here anymore. She won't be here for my birthday in June. She won't see me graduate. Or get married. She'll never meet another person I date or friend. Which means I'll never hear her tell me that she likes a person. Or better yet, that someone is a flake and ask me what I am thinking. (Those were often my favorite conversations.) I cherish those moments. And I miss them already.    Everyday I think of something else I want my mom to be there. That's one of the many things that sucks about this situation. 

The Missing

I listen to the dogs bark outside. Desperately trying to come back inside the house. They're traumatized. They were outside for way too long the day my mom got sick. It's only been about three weeks since my mom went into the hospital. But I suspect in the dog universe that's a long time. Three weeks tomorrow . . . Yesterday was a week since the funeral and Thursday is two weeks since her death.

In recent years I've been trying to figure out how to prepare myself for the death of my grandparents. Never did it cross my mind that the death I'd be dealing with would be my Mom's. I miss her so much. I spoke with her nearly every day, even at age 28.

Right now, I'm sitting in her chair. My Dad went back to work today. And I'm sitting in her chair trying to figure out how to make myself get up, pack myself up, and head back to Spearfish. I have to go back today. I have a final tomorrow and business to take care of. It's like I'm scared to leave my parent's house.

Right now, the hardest thing, besides missing her so fucking much, is seeing all of the advertisements for Mother's Day. . .

The weirdest thing about this whole situation is that while my world stopped, reality kept on chugging. I haven't worked for three weeks. I'm a college student. I can't afford to not work for, well for any amount of time. I'm stressed. I'm lonely. I want to call my mom and ask her what to do, but I can't . . . I can't ever call my mom again. That is so painful. I want to give up. I want to throw in the towel and just be done with everything. But, I know that's just stupid.

The Loss

My mom turned 49 on April 9th this year. Ten days later, she was dead. My mom was my best friend. She was the way I measured my success in life. When I was a child, I longed for my mom to be my friend. She told me, repeatedly, that her job was to be my mother, not my friend. She also said that when I was older, we would be friends. As a teenager, I never believed her. As a 28 year old woman, not only were we friends, we were mother and daughter. That bond is so amazing and I can't believe that I longed for something different (stupid teenager).

I don't know why my mom is gone. I don't know what she was going through in her final hours. I don't know much of anything. What I do know is that I miss her more than I knew I could miss someone. I feel lost. I feel alone. I'm angry. And I'm scared. I'm scared to go back to my apartment. I'm scared I'll forget her. I'm scared I'll disappoint her. I think what I'm scared of most, is that I won't ever be able to tell this story . . .

Sex, Society, and Outrage

So, there is a scandal at Penn State. . . Oh, you didn't know and made an inappropriate tweet about it? It's okay Ashton, we know you live under a rock and never use the Internet . . .

There is a large population of people who are outraged that Penn State Head Coach Joe Paterno was fired. And yet, I have heard little outrage over the fact that Mr. Paterno knew something was going on, reported it and then continued on as if there was nothing more for him to do. Riots in the street over a fired football coach, but NOT over a sexual abuse scandal? Am I the only one who sees something wrong with this?

Our society has such an issue with sex, whether consensual or not, that we ignore the topic all together. What makes me so angry is that we have created a culture where we just don't talk about. You were raped? Well don't talk about, it might make others uncomfortable. You know, cause it wasn't uncomfortable for you have experienced that. You were molested as a child? Well in polite society we just pretend it didn't happen and hope you've healed on your own. We have movie stars comparing having their photo taken to being raped. We have children who refer to losing a game by a large score as getting raped. And yet, there is hardly any outcry from the hoi polloi about what talk like this implies.

I recently mentioned to a friend of mine that I was molested as a teenager. I have always been very open about this fact. She was appalled that I would talk about it like it was no big deal. I tried to explain to her that I don't talk about it because it is no big deal. I talk about it because too many people don't; and it IS a big deal. Society at large makes victims of abuse feel like they have to keep quiet about the things that have happened to them. Like somehow we should be ashamed of something that was done TO us. I didn't have control over the situation. If I had, it wouldn't have happened. (That's the "duh!" moment for those of you keeping track.) The bottom line is that what happened to me doesn't define me. In some ways it helped shape who I am today in that I think it's important to be open about such things. The very fact that abusers can manipulate their victims into staying quiet is a direct reflection that we don't talk about such things in "polite" society.

So, Penn State fans -- How about you riot in the streets over what happened within your beloved institution, rather than rioting because a coach (who was part of the problem, though perhaps not legally responsible) was let go amid a very SERIOUS scandal. Why not be outraged that the people who represented your cherished sport team have now tarnished its image. Just a thought.

"It's a money thing, and I've got none . . . "

I have to say, nothing annoys me more than people who claim to be poor, but really have no idea what poor means. There are so many levels of "poor," but I find that people who announce they are poor often are not. People who are truly poor don't own multiple properties. They don't own several cars. They aren't able to provide their children with the newest toys and coolest clothes. They can't afford to go out to eat on a whim. Nor can they impulsively plan a trip for their family (especially if it involves flying or a hotel stay).

I often joke that I am a poor college student. And in some ways that's true. I must budget my money and spend wisely so that I can afford to not work and accomplish my school work to the best of my ability. With that being said, I have a two bedroom apartment which I live in alone. I have a laptop, a tablet, and a smart phone. I have two t.v.'s, cable, and Internet. My apartment is fully furnished and my fridge fully stocked.

Now, my college life hasn't always been so "glamorous." When I first stared out, I had a hard time paying for college and my basic necessities. I went to school full time and worked full time to pay for school and pay rent. You see, the Feds decided that my parents made TONS of money and so I didn't qualify for much on the FAFSA. That meant that I often worried about how I would eat or pay my bills. I worked my tail off and never seemed to get anywhere. It was so frustrating; and eventually, due to that frustration, I dropped out of college. Once I turned 23, my parents income was no longer required to get financial aid and I was able to continue my education. (And I graduate this spring. YAY!)

I've recently had a conversation with someone who feels they are newly poor. And while their financial situation has changed, they are not poor. They do not have to worry about how they will feed their kids. They are not in danger of losing the home they own or the cars they drive. They are going through a period of adjustment no doubt. Recalculating how you spend your money can be frustrating and difficult. This friend, however, isn't poor. And honestly, I'm not sure they actually understand what poor is or what it looks like. And that baffles me with the poorest county in the country being in our state: Shannon country --  the home of Pine Ridge.

With the current economic climate it's important to remember that there are often many who have it worse than we do. And while the economic downturn may have effected you, if you're not in danger of losing the roof above your head or worried about how you're going to feed your family, then you are ahead of many of our fellow countrymen. Be thankful for what you have and what you are able to provide for our children and yourself. And PLEASE stop telling me you're poor.

"My bully is totally my BFF."

I've been thinking for a long time that I have things to say and maybe I should write them down . . . And so it begins.

The thought for tonight is on friendship. More importantly, female friendship. You see I know several grown women who keep, and even fight for, pseudo-friendships while consistently alienating the people who really care about them. They have surrounded themselves with women who only take advantage and hurt. Some of these women are just plain mean. Now, as an adult, I guess you do have the right to hang out with people who generally suck. I think it's lame that these women hurt good people in their quest to basically be the popular high school girl . . . in their 40's. With all of that being said, what really bothers me is that these women have daughters. And the example they are setting for their daughters is just plain dangerous. Having friends is the most important thing. You must keep all friends at any cost. Never mind that they call you names, take advantage of you and don't support you. You are lucky to be in their "circle." That whole line of thinking disgusts me. Girl culture is hard enough to navigate as a young teen without having such poor relationships modeled for you.

We live in a world of constant connection. We see stories nearly everyday about children being bullied; in some cases to the point that they take their own lives. If as grown women we model for our children, young girls especially, that it is okay to bully, or that you are supposed to take being bullied as a sign of "friendship," where can we ever expect this cycle to end? Making the choice to have children means that you have to pay attention to everything you do because they are watching you. If you wouldn't want your child treated that way, why on earth would you allow yourself to be treated that way? By allowing it, you only tell your children that the behavior is okay, and heck, maybe they should even expect it. What a sad, sad thing to teach your child.

And that's enough for tonight . . .