(no subject)
Baby
aerogoddes
My grandparent's 65th anniversary is this year, and my Uncle Danny and his family came down from Montana to visit them. So I'm  scrolling through Facebook and I see this picture of my grandparents, my Uncle Danny's family (him, my Auntie Linda, their son Tachie and daughter Tina with her son Conner), and my dad. My knee jerk thought was, "Mom's not in the picture, she must have taken it." And then I remember and I'm hyperventilating. She's gone. How could my brain go to the thought that she was the photographer instead of remembering she's gone?

Has it been three years, or has it been a day? This voice in the back of my head keeps screaming at me, "Get over it." Everyone has dead people, everyone has lost someone. You're not special. Lots of people have lost their mothers, mothers who were their best friends, and there's no reason to continue always be in so much pain.

I wish I drank, or did drugs, or something that would leave me numb. Maybe it'd be different if my day to day didn't use to involve her. Even though I moved 1,400+ miles away, she was part of my every day life. I'd talk to her every day, sometimes more than twice a day. When I use to work at the call center in Tucson I'd talk to her every day on lunch break. Every work day for the last month I've walked into the break room and looked at my phone and wanted to call her.

I'm not religious, nor am I a total atheist, but I just wish I knew where my mother was. Her ashes are with my dad in Arizona, and a small amount in an urn with me that I keep in my car... I just... I don't feel like its right to pick and choose bits of religion to make yourself feel better.

I occasionally flash back to the morning my Grandma died. I remember waking up on a Monday and my mom being home. It was the summer and she should have been at work. Grandma had passed away during the night and she was devastated. I don't think I had ever seen anyone in so much pain and sadness and I hadn't really understood it at the time. Grandma had been sick, for a long time, and wasn't it better that she was gone?

Is mom happy? Is she with her mother and all of the loved ones she has lost... or is there nothing? Honestly, nothing might just be better. If there is an "after," how is it experienced? Do you see the ones you've left behind, see them cry and hurt? How about an after that is like the old TV show spoof of This is Your Life? You're at an awesome dinner party watching highlights of your life, seeing the ones you've left and their the highlights of their life after you left. "And where we see Jim on his 65th birthday, camping at Big Lake, Arizona. He passed in 20..." and then dad shows up and joins mom at the table and you keep watching the show.

Everyone has lost someone. I've not suffered more than another. I don't know why some days I'm a total wreck and others I feel like we just haven't talked in a while.

Wow
Baby
aerogoddes
I've seriouisly forgotten about LJ but I still rememebred my password.

In just about three weeks I'll be back in Arizona.

I'm excited to see my friends and family, and go to the renn faire in February, but I'm nervous at the same time.

(no subject)
Baby
aerogoddes
I was feeling... I don't know... but this evening I went through the 2,842 emails that I had on my gmail account and out of all of them I only had ONE from my mom. I use to delete everything when I got it in, but somewhere along the line I stopped deleting emails.

I just her so much, in every way possible.

uhhh
Baby
aerogoddes
Apparently I am dating three men. Two are married with lovely wives who I am friends with, and the other is my boyfriend of 2+ years that I live with.

I don't know how this happened.

(no subject)
Baby
aerogoddes
Sometimes all I can do is think about mom. I try to, most days, forget my family life. If I act like all my life consists of is my bubble in Portland then I don't have to remember who I'm missing.

Well fuck
Baby
aerogoddes
I have $0.09 in my checking account.

I have enough money in savings for June's bills, but I have $0.09 in my checking account. I can't buy gas or food without dipping into monies set aside for rent or phone bill.

Tiny fairy bitches hold grudges.
Baby
aerogoddes
And then there are the nights that I cannot sleep. I have no affliction, save depression, that should keep me from slumber. I haven’t been over stimulated by caffeine or a book I haven’t finished reading, I’m just awake.

Lying in bed can be difficult at times. My body is large and prone to aching. Two days ago I read a few chapters of a book while lying on my stomach, which caused a back ache that has not gone away yet. It’ll eventually go away, probably sometime in the next few days, but I’m sure a lesser sized person would not have the same aches from being in that position. My boyfriend and partner in sleep-time adventures is also large framed so our queen sized mattress isn’t relatively spacious as it would be for a couple of less girth. A queen sized mattress is also relatively smaller than a king sized mattress, which is what I believe all sleeping couples should have, California king to be precise.

“Why Cal King,” you may ask. My parents had a Cal King bed and I loved it. I could lie in any position and always be on the bed without fear of falling off. Often times, while my mother was in the master bathroom, I’d sneak into their bedroom and hide myself lengthwise under their pillows at the head of the bed. I like the idea of being able to lie across the foot or the head of the bed without being over the edge.

Back from my tangent: being in a queen sized bed with a similarly sized partner is difficult for me. I don’t like being touched during my waking hours so it’s the same deal while I am asleep. I am very aware of how much space my fluffy body takes up in respect to the bed, and I always try to stay on “my half” of things; my boyfriend is not as spatially aware as I am.

Because I end up with less than half of the bed most nights I have to sleep on my side. I’m sure someone of a thinner frame has this problem too, but constant pressure on my hips and shoulder make sleeping almost painful at times. I end up constantly repositioning myself and trying to choose the lesser of two aches: back or side.

At this moment there is nothing “keeping” me from sleeping besides the fact that I cannot sleep. Its six o’clock in the morning and I’m wide awake. I’ve tried yawning myself to a tired state, had some mild “sleepy time” tea, and I am even listening to soft relaxing music and I cannot find rest.

I wonder if Ole-Luk-Oie holds grudges. By no means have I wronged Der Sandmann, but one never knows when she may have unintentionally insulted him. It may be possible that my recent writing of my wish to no longer dream of my mother was an unintentional slight at Ole-Luk-Oie and he’s punishing me by not visiting me this evening.

Yes, that must be it. A fictional character is upset that I did not like his dreams. But wait - I believe The Sandman only makes one sleepy, not control the content of the dream. Aww shit. I pissed off Queen Mab. Tiny fairy bitches hold grudges. Maybe I should make an offering of glitter and jellybeans to the Lady before I try to go back to sleep.

dreams
Baby
aerogoddes
What are dreams? Wikipedia (reliable source I know): Dreams are successions of images, ideas, emotions, and sensations that occur involuntarily in the mind during certain stages of sleep. I really don’t believe that there is much more to that.

I tend to experience, for what seems like most of my adult life, a form of lucid dreaming. Almost always I’m aware that I am in a dream and have some mild control over the environment and basic tone/script of my dreams. There are, however, a number of things I cannot control like who is present. I am really tired of dreaming of my mom.

A normal person might think, “If my mother was dead I’d like dreaming of her.” Well, I’m not normal. Some people I’ve talked to have said that she’s “visiting” me in my dreams, to which I guffaw. I don’t have a solid believe on the afterlife, but I believe enough in science and the ‘whys’ behind dreaming that I know my brain is thinking of her, not that some spirit/entity is visiting me (I’m still up in the air about spirits and whatnot but that’s another post).

The last half a dozen times I’ve dreamt of mom I’ve known and stated, “Well this is a dream because you’re dead,” and I’ve tried to get her to not be a part of my dream. The first few times it happened I did wake up upset. My loss was still fresh and it was kind of shocking to see her. As time went on I was more okay with it happening (well maybe just less shocked) and I started making the effort to not think about her before going to sleep. That in itself is difficult because I think about the absence of her all of the time. I only once dreamt of her and had the dream really freak me out to the point where I thought maybe, just maybe, something more than neurons firing had happened.

I can’t remember the entire context of the dream, but I know we were talking and a few people were around us - Dad, Panchita, a few family friends - and I was trying to get the dream to stop. I can’t articulate how I try to change dreams while they’re happening; it’s more of a ‘camera two fade in while camera one fades out’ sort of thing rather than changing the channels. I was in the process of trying to get away from dreaming about her and she grabbed my right hand and squeezed.

It was the squeezing that woke me up. I never get touched in my dreams. Not being touched in my dreams is probably something that slips over from my subconscious; I really hate being touched without giving consent. When I woke up the sensation of her hand on mine was still fresh. I could almost feel her skin on mine - her skin was thin and calloused from years of exposure to chemicals as a janitor, but still slight and feminine. She always had a cool touch to her skin, like her circulation was bad, and after she died dad constantly said that he loved her hands. I had never heard him say that he loved any part of her body before (when they met in the 70’s she was thin and attractive and in the late 90’s she had grown to over 500lbs), so to hear him wax so poetically about them has kind of stuck in my mind.

Thinking of that dream still makes me cry as I write this. I am so tired of having such emotional responses to having such emptiness in my life.

On a random whim I decided to Google what dreaming of a passed relative meant. “To see your dead mother in your dream signifies your wretched and mean-hearted nature towards others around you.” What the hell? I think I am the least mean-hearted person I know. Well, maybe with one or two exceptions of people I really wish wouldn’t exist, but I don’t actually keep those people around me.

Of course other Google results came up with things like “closure” and “your own unfulfilled maternal feelings,” but I feel like that is a lot of bunk. There is no ‘closer’ that I can obtain because I can’t hunt down her killer or give her justice because her death wasn’t “caused” by any one specific thing - it was just an arrangement of “that’s life” and “shit happens” that was uncontrollable. When she was in the hospital, probably the last five to eight hours of her life, my uncle called me and I got to say “goodbye” to her. I told her I was on my way home to be with her, that I’d be there soon, that I’d take care of dad and not fight with him, and that I loved her. I said I loved her and I made sure that she heard and understood me. Yes, she died before I got home to her, but I am glad I don’t have the image of her in the hospital with tubes and wires in her as my last memory of her. The last time I saw her was when she dropped me off at the airport in 2011; I came home for Christmas and spent almost three weeks with her. She “made me” hug her when I left (yes I’m not the biggest touchy-feely person out there) and, if I would have known she’d be gone in less than five months, I would have never of let go.

I am so very tired of dreaming of her and my family in Arizona. I love them all, but I’d like to go back to dreaming of unicorns and super heroes and romances with rock stars - the weird tentacle rape sex dreams are okay too - just no more dreams of what I’ve lost.

Panchita
Baby
aerogoddes
Sometimes I really wonder how dogs live their lives. Are they as aware as we are? Do they have a sense of love and loss?

What happened to Panchita when mom died? Did she notice she wasn’t feeling well those two days before she went to the hospital? Thursday morning strangers came into her house and took mom, her mommy too, away and she never came back. All day long she was alone, dad only coming home late at night - crying and alone. The next day he left, early in the morning, and she gathered all of her toys from all over the house and nested with them on the couch.

What in her little doggie brain was going on? Did she know her momma was never coming home, did she know that she’d lose her house and move out into the desert, and that her daddy would be alone? It must have been confusing; the only nights mom had never been home was twice when she visited me in Oregon, beyond that she had always been in bed when Panchita was.

I find myself thinking about this a lot and I don’t know why. Sometimes Fezzik the cat will crawl on me in bed and perch on my hip like Panchita use to do and I find myself really missing her. Yes, she was bat-shit crazy when other people were around, but when it was just me and her (or us over with my folks) she was MY girl, a shadow that followed me around. She was someone who was always there, a little white mini me with socialization issues.

I have people in my life who have dogs, so I get plenty of puppy time, but they’re not MY dog. I know Panchita hasn’t forgotten who I am; I wonder if she still expects mom to come home one day. Does she know the jar on the stereo is mom’s ashes, does it have a smell she can sense, or does she just think it’s someone odd that dad talks to? Does she wonder where the momma is, or does she think mom abandoned her and left the way I did?

(no subject)
Baby
aerogoddes
I am just so tired. I cry. Every day. Every damn day. I miss her so much I can't breathe at times. I'm sad. Always sad. It hurts and I can't make it stop. Everything makes me remember, remember her and that I don't have her anymore. No one to make it better. No one who is a best friend who'd never leave me, never want anything from me besides to be with me. I can't believe I left Arizona. I left her. She was so sad I left her. She cried for me when no one else did. She loved me no matter how depressed or angry or broke I was - and I just left her.

Why was I so selfish?

I miss her so much.

?

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