Highest highs and Lowest lows

Emotion is a funny and capricious thing. Just when you think you have it figured out, it turns the tables on you. I've been riding a high of good feeling - even joy - for over a week now. A number of very positive things have happened, and I don't doubt that mom and dad had a hand it these things. One of these things is that I have signed a contract on a new apartment on the Upper East Side - finally, that Manhattan apartment I've always wanted. There are many stages of the process to go, but I feel cautiously optomistic that it will all work out. The other thing is pretty big, but I don't want to discuss it just yet for fear of jinxing anything.

These positive things have made me feel true joy, something I would not have thought possible two months ago, just before my mother's death. But, something happened in those last days - my mother gave me the greatest gift she ever could - the belief that I would feel joy, and live a happy life. That belief, and the inner strength she taught me my whole life, has made these two months bearable. In fact, it is very easy for me to respond that I'm OK when people ask me how I'm doing. Of course, the incredulous responses I get from some people ("Really?") make me want to ask, "Would you rather I were a babbling mess?" I know people mean well, but do they really have to assume I'm a basket case?

Now I'll grant you, the good feeling I have experienced lately has sometimes made me wonder if I'm actually simply nestled in a warm little cocoon of denial, but I know I'm not. I am fully aware of the loss - I just don't intend to dishonor my mother, and everything she believed I was capable of, by falling apart. She taught me better than that - it's stiff upper lip all the way (I totally should have been British).

Of course, then there's days like today, when I sit surfing the internet (scary place sometimes!), feeling inexplicably depressed. At least that's what I told myself - "Why are you depressed? Nothing happened!" Then, I feel like knocking myself upside the head - of course I feel depressed! My mother and best friend died less than two months ago, I just burned a bunch of her private papers (per her request), and I'm collecting many of her things for donation to my school's Nicaragua project. All of these things are naturally depressing things. Nothing inexplicable about it. Now, the old me would have downed a can of coke (I just had a glass), and eaten a sandwich or something (my size 12 Calvins can attest to how much of that I've done over the last 3 years). Instead, I bundled up, went out into the freezing downpour (another reason to be depressed - wettest March in history in NY!), and walked for 45 minutes. Even though it wasn't as carefree as my walks have been over the last week, the exercise, coupled with  bit of Hair Band rock on the i-pod actually did the trick, and I came home not depressed.

I guess the thing I have to remember is that there will be days like this - you don't just get over something like this and move on. Having good days is good, but having bad days is not bad.

Happy Birthday Mommy (3/11)

Well, I would have liked to write a post on Mom's actual birthday last Thursday, but it was an exhausting and emotionally trying week. I started back at work this week. It was awkward because there was a lot of attention. And, since I'm used to being invisible, that was a little tough. It was also somewhat beautiful. The girls were so welcoming - they really seemed happy to have me back. Girls would shriek and run down the hall to hug me - I don't suppose that kind of thing is an act to get an A! The faculty were very welcoming too, although there are still a few pitying glances. Now that the overt attention has faded, hopefully those glances will too. I know it's all well meaning, but it's exactly what I had worried would happen as soon as people knew what was happening. As long as I can fade away into obscurity again soon, I can handle it in the meantime. As for the uncomfortable reception from the powers that be, well, par for the course.

The worst part of the week, though, was that Keith and I had a huge fight. It was over the cleanup again. He threw out some things I had set aside to save, and it deteriorated into a shouting match, which left me sobbing in my room, feeling like I had been torn apart. I can't seem to make him understand how lost I feel so much of the time, and how I can't just throw Mom and Dad's lives away. We are getting rid of a lot, but I need to save some things that I know seem irrational. That night, I felt like the world was spinning out of control, and losing those little bits of paper, made feel like I was losing everything. I know it's not really about the paper - those scraps of things are a connection. With every thing that gets thrown away, the connection seems to weaken. Yet, I'm reasonable, I think. I'm not trying to keep everything - not even close. But, it's 5 weeks, not 5 months or 5 years and, if I want to keep something in a bin for 30 years because knowing I have it comforts me, then I'll keep it in a bin. Keith can't make that decision for me. The fight did not linger - it was important to me that it be addressed before Mommy's birthday, so I sent Keith an email. I don't think he quite got what I was trying to say in the email, but it's fine now. And, in retrospect, I think I know why he got so upset so easily - last week was payroll week, which is always stressful.

We went to Harvest for Mom's birthday. It felt a little wrong being there without them, but it actually turned out to be a really nice evening - and just the celebration of her life we needed. And, though Tuesday night was the worst night I've had since she died (it's the first time  I begged her to come back), Thursday might have been one of the best. And, yesterday, we all (Louie included) managed to spend the day cleaning without lunging at each other's throats, so, progress!

One month

I can believe it, but it's been one month. One month since my entire world changed. I don't know how a whole month could have passed. I always assumed life would stop when Mommy died - how was I supposed to go on without her? But, I've been functioning surprisingly normally this month. That's not to say it has been easy. Today was an exceptionally difficult day in terms of functioning like a normal human being. And,  I do  find myself occasionally crying hysterically in the car in a parking garage for no good reason (Wednesday's fun and excitement), but I actually get up everyday (I won't say morning - late nights make for late days) and I go about my business. That business has been very busy, andt's just going to get busier - I go back to school tomorrow. I have mixed feelings about that. They had hired someone to fill in until Easter Break, but she ended up taking another job. So, I got calls telling me to "Take your time," with the "we're really stuck without a sub" in parentheses. I can see it from their perspective, but I feel a little played. When Daddy died 3 1/2 years ago, the State Department was quite honest about being a heartless beaurocracy, calling me AWOL and ordering me back to Mexico. It was upsetting (and eye-opening), but at least I knew where I stood. Here, I get a bit of a feeling like the burden in being put on me - my sense of responsibility won't let me leave the students in the lurch (and they know it). I'm not saying the  calls from school were not genuinely to see how I'm doing, but that they were not entirely to see how I'm doing. And I know I have an obligation to my job - and a need for my job! So back I go.

And, once I go back, the all-consuming world of school takes over, and there won't be time for anything else. I think I'm going to get really overwhelmed, and I don't know how I'm going to handle it all. I'm worried that Arabic class will take the brunt of it, and I really want to do well in that class. But, there's want and need, and I need to get my work done at school, and at home. Keith and I are now actually talking about putting the house on the market after Easter - way soon, but there have been developments. I've been looking for apartments, like Mom and I were before she died, and I'm waiting to hear on one I've offered on. I feel like, parting with the house will be difficult no matter when I do it - it will be no easier next year than now, and in the meantime, it's too much. Too much to take care of, too much to come home too, empty and alone. I need a fresh start. The apartment will give me that. I just hope Mommy doesn't think I'm moving too fast, or I'm forgetting her. I don't think she will - I know she wanted the apartment for me, that she thought it would be good for me, and she didn't want me burdened with this house. It will be tough, though, the day I know I can never enter this house again. And it's harder because I may be away for the entire fall, if the Fulbright goes through.

Well, anyway, despite the ups and downs of the last month, I'm actually doing pretty well. Now, if I can manage to do all my work, get the house ready for sale, close on  apartment and lose 50 pounds by the end of August, I can fly off to England very content! Some of those things might be harder than others.