Hi All,
Today is Tuesday and I just realized that I think I write a lot of blog posts on Tuesdays. Interesting. I actually just started another blog--it's called up2run and it's address is up2run.blogspot.com I wondered as I began this project my year of running in the morning if I was running towards something or away from it? Or both.
I am not sure it matters. The pragmatic part of me says that it doesn't. I don't think it is an accident however that the idea for this blog came to me in early November--at a time when reminders of last year seem to be suffocating me into submission. Grief. It's power cannot be underestimated. I didn't think twice about picking up my Nov Better Homes and Gardens and then dropped it in horror when the first picture of a turkey dinner appeared and made me lose my breath. Maybe this wont be as easy as I thought. No, I didn't really think it would be easy. My Dad's suicide last Thanksgiving sort of made it a marked day for me, forever it seems. I've tossed this around-how I don't want to ruin this holiday forever and how I want it to be good etc. Its complicated because I do want this and then also feel sort of as if, it was predetermined that this Thanksgiving would be painful and I cant pretend it away. I cant run away from it either. It just is this holiday that I once loved and now am a combination of determined and terrified about.
Determined is a funny word. Terrified is too. I don't know what to write other than to be honest and those are the words that come to be about this holiday. My determination which feels so steely at times--fueled w anger, hostility, strength. My fear--cold and lonely and weak. The marriage of those two is where I'm at in relation to this upcoming holiday. I'll do my best to make it good for everyone else--to serve them and to honor my Dad in a way that makes sense. To be real about who he was, what I miss and what I don't miss as much.
Mental illness is painful and damaging. It hurt my Dad and it hurt me. I wish I could go back in time to when he was still on the Lithium and make him promise to never stop taking it. I had no idea just how much it was working, for him, and for me. I wish I also could go back and help him grieve over his own mother's suicide. I wish I could tell him over and over that it was not his fault until he believed me. I would tell him that I know how horrible and painful it is to realize that your parent doesn't want to live anymore and then I would tell him that this is not his fault, was not his responsibility, and that he needs to forgive himself. I would tell him that he deserved a mother that would not be in that much pain and that I am sorry for both of them that he didn't get that and I am sorry for how hard it must have been for him to live with his secrets and pain buried so down so deep. By the time I knew what had happened it was too late for me to help, his pain had eaten him alive. I see that so clearly only now--I see how his pain was buried so deep that the people that loved him couldn't help him. I see how I have to let my own pain out, let it surface, and let the people that love me, help me. And they do. And I'm grateful. xxK
Today is Tuesday and I just realized that I think I write a lot of blog posts on Tuesdays. Interesting. I actually just started another blog--it's called up2run and it's address is up2run.blogspot.com I wondered as I began this project my year of running in the morning if I was running towards something or away from it? Or both.
I am not sure it matters. The pragmatic part of me says that it doesn't. I don't think it is an accident however that the idea for this blog came to me in early November--at a time when reminders of last year seem to be suffocating me into submission. Grief. It's power cannot be underestimated. I didn't think twice about picking up my Nov Better Homes and Gardens and then dropped it in horror when the first picture of a turkey dinner appeared and made me lose my breath. Maybe this wont be as easy as I thought. No, I didn't really think it would be easy. My Dad's suicide last Thanksgiving sort of made it a marked day for me, forever it seems. I've tossed this around-how I don't want to ruin this holiday forever and how I want it to be good etc. Its complicated because I do want this and then also feel sort of as if, it was predetermined that this Thanksgiving would be painful and I cant pretend it away. I cant run away from it either. It just is this holiday that I once loved and now am a combination of determined and terrified about.
Determined is a funny word. Terrified is too. I don't know what to write other than to be honest and those are the words that come to be about this holiday. My determination which feels so steely at times--fueled w anger, hostility, strength. My fear--cold and lonely and weak. The marriage of those two is where I'm at in relation to this upcoming holiday. I'll do my best to make it good for everyone else--to serve them and to honor my Dad in a way that makes sense. To be real about who he was, what I miss and what I don't miss as much.
Mental illness is painful and damaging. It hurt my Dad and it hurt me. I wish I could go back in time to when he was still on the Lithium and make him promise to never stop taking it. I had no idea just how much it was working, for him, and for me. I wish I also could go back and help him grieve over his own mother's suicide. I wish I could tell him over and over that it was not his fault until he believed me. I would tell him that I know how horrible and painful it is to realize that your parent doesn't want to live anymore and then I would tell him that this is not his fault, was not his responsibility, and that he needs to forgive himself. I would tell him that he deserved a mother that would not be in that much pain and that I am sorry for both of them that he didn't get that and I am sorry for how hard it must have been for him to live with his secrets and pain buried so down so deep. By the time I knew what had happened it was too late for me to help, his pain had eaten him alive. I see that so clearly only now--I see how his pain was buried so deep that the people that loved him couldn't help him. I see how I have to let my own pain out, let it surface, and let the people that love me, help me. And they do. And I'm grateful. xxK
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