Content note: death of parents (past) and mention of depression
Hello friends, today I wrote this for myself as part of my journal. As soon as I finished writing it, it felt like a weight had shifted. It didn’t get lighter, but it did get easier to carry. I don’t know if it will help anyone facing similar feelings of grief, but in any case, it doesn’t hurt to put it here.
This morning I didn’t want to get out of bed. This is not unusual: I am a night owl with insomnia and I hate mornings.
Once I was upright, I didn’t want to wash my hair, get dressed, or put on makeup. Again, not incredibly weird since I work from home and didn’t have Zoom calls on my calendar.
I ate breakfast slowly and then plopped down on the couch to finish reading a book I had started last night. It wasn’t particularly fascinating, but I didn’t have the energy for anything else.
I had a workout on the calendar today, but my body feels tense, heavy, and cautious. The last thing I wanted to do was week 4 of a weight training program.
All day I blamed laziness, procrastination, and depression, the latter of which has been more present lately, but it’s not unmanageable. (Don’t worry, I have professional help for that!)
Then, looking at the calendar, I realized that those are probably not the reasons for today’s lack of determination. It’s April 1st. Today marks the 17th anniversary of the hardest week of my life.
- For me April 1st is not April Fool’s Day. Instead, it was the day my mother was admitted to the hospital.
- April 2 was the day the nurses told me I probably shouldn’t leave his bed because the end was near.
- April 3rd was the day she died, taking a part of me with her.
- April 4 was the day I chose the location for his funeral and tombstone, full of remorse for not knowing his wishes and ashamed that I couldn’t afford anything grander.
- April 5th will always be my birthday, but it hasn’t felt like a day of celebration since she passed away.
- April 6 was when I attended my first funeral, which turned out to be that of the most important person in my life.
- April 7th is a blank space in my mind. I don’t know what I did or how I felt other than empty and tired.
I wish I could say that I feel less significant or burdensome after all this time and that getting through the week has become easier. Not precisely. Time HAS made it possible for me to be a more functional human being during the week, but it hasn’t healed all the wounds. Time has also offered me perspective: I feel a lot of compassion for my 26-year-old self who lost a 50-year-old mother to early-onset Parkinson’s disease. I did my best and I must hold on to that knowledge – it has a funny way of slipping away from me when I need it most.
I will be 43 this year. My mother was 43 years old the last time I recognized her as the mother I grew up with. I went to college and she divorced my father and moved to another state. His mind, body and voice deteriorated rapidly after that. When I was 46 years old, I lived in a nursing home. I may feel some way about 43 at some point, but today I just wanted to acknowledge that it’s April 1st.
Maybe facing the week head-on today will help me get through it with a little more self-compassion. Maybe not so. In any case, I think it is better to reflect than repress.
