Writing Feelings Away

May I tell you something about myself?


I once read that the impulse to write comes from an inability to cope with the world in some way.  It is the result of a personal malfunction.  This is certainly a less flattering take than calling it a coping mechanism.  When you call it a coping mechanism, it sounds more like writing is a personal tool that we use to deal with an imperfect world or life situation.  In reality, the two ways of describing it aren't so different.  Either way, you as a person find yourself unable to deal with something in life, and you are free to cast the blame where you may.

When something really bad happens, I don't feel like I can cope with it.  Some things just seem too big for me to handle.  Once I acknowledge that this terrible thing has indeed occurred, that makes it real, and I'm not ready for it to be real.

This was the case when my mom died last May.  The circumstances were chaotic to begin with.  My son Lyle was born only six days before that.  Not only did I have the normal hormone issues and sleep deprivation that comes from having a newborn, his birth was also a bit rough.  Since he had the cord wrapped around his neck, the doctors had to get him out quickly.  He had to spend a few hours in the NICU, though he ended up being fine.  The rapid delivery also took it out of me, and I ended up losing a lot of blood post delivery.  My hemoglobin dropped by about 25%.  I felt lightheaded and weak.

Six days later when my mom passed, I was still anemic.  I felt the effects of everything piling up on me at once. All I could do to get through it was focus on taking care of my kids.  I poured all of my energy into that for the following weeks, because I didn't have it in me to do much else.  People kept remarking about how well I was dealing with the situation.  I wish that were true.

I just wasn't dealing with it at all.

I couldn't face my feelings, because I felt like my life would fall apart if I did.  I had people telling me I had to stay strong for my kids.  Of course I already knew that, but it felt like I didn't have permission to be a human being.  And once the feelings started to catch up with me weeks later, it felt like there was a black hole opening up inside me.  It made it so much harder to move through the world.

When someone dies, we're sad they're gone.  We also have regrets.  Things we wish we'd said, things we wish we didn't say.  Those regrets pile on to make things even worse.  I felt all of these things, though I refused to acknowledge it.

Writing about my feelings directly didn't feel like a viable option at the time either.  It felt too real that way.  So I wrote them into the lives of my characters.  I put them in painful situations, and I let my poisonous feelings flow into them through my keystrokes.

It was cathartic.  Of course, my writing has been somewhat dark as of late.  But I'd be lying if I said it wasn't always a little on the dark side.

Meet My Mom

May I tell you about someone else?


Today is going to be one of those days.  This past Sunday was Mother's Day, and today is Thursday, the day where I'm supposed to share someone with you.  May 17th is a loaded day for me anyway.  I'm not quite sure how to feel, and I figured I would only really get to confront my feelings as I write this post.

Wow, I'm having trouble even working up to this.

Okay.  Here it is.  Today I need to tell you about my mom.  Her name was Leona, and she was born on January 31, 1964.  She died May 17, 2011 at the age of 47. One year ago today.

The most recent picture I have of my mom.

There are things about her I won't share with the world.  Let's be honest.  We all keep some things to ourselves, and that's all right.

Here's what I will tell you.

She loved knitting.  She could knit or sew almost anything.  I can sew too, but the talent she had with knitting needles mystified me. Give me two knitting needles, and I'll try to start a sword fight.  She actually made something worthwhile with them.

She also loved to write.  Did she ever become famous for it?  No.  But did she love to do it all the same?  Absolutely.

Her favorite color was green, and her favorite gemstone was the emerald.

Anyone who knew her also understood that she had a sense of humor.  I have no way to accurately describe it beyond that.  Just trust me.  Her jokes were memorable.

She loved France and learned French in high school.  Her fear of heights, however, made visiting impossible.  When I went to France at age 17, all of the souvenirs I brought her came from France.  It only made sense.

My mom got really sick in 2008, though I could see the symptoms as early as 2007. She could barely eat anything, but she was stubborn and refused to go to the doctor until she was almost incapable of moving.  I know my dad tried to convince her several times that she needed to go, but my mom was unyielding.  Another aspect of her personality that sticks out in my mind.

Her health was never the same after that.  She was diagnosed with a blood disease, and it wore her down steadily over the next three years.  She died six days after my youngest son was born.  My oldest was two at the time, and I know he won't remember much, if anything, about her.  It sucks knowing that your own children will never know your mother, but that's the way life goes sometimes.

I could say a lot about how I felt about all of this as it was happening, but this post isn't supposed to be about me.  This is supposed to be about her.  I might cover my feelings in one of next week's posts, but for now I'll share something from one of her favorite T.V. shows, The Red Green Show.

This is an entire episode called "Twinning."  It's special because it features Iowa, where our entire family was born and raised.  If you ever have the time, I suggest watching the entire thing.  The segment I wanted to point out, however, is only a couple of minutes and deals with death in a more humorous way.  It begins at 5:17 (like May 17, the day she died . . . the strangeness of that isn't lost on me).

Anyway, enjoy.  I had to lighten up the mood somehow, and this will give you an idea of the kind of sense of humor she had.


 

Hopefully I have't offended anyone. Trust me, if my mom were here, she would have laughed about this last part.