Memento Mori: July 2021
1,085 words were written on August 1st for my July Memento Mori.
I’m not going to delete them, but all of it won’t be for public consumption. No matter how honest, true, and real , something else needs to be said.
The thing I desire most right now is to consistently see and know I’m cared for beyond all the words we toss around that don’t seem to mean much if they can be replaced with “I was busy.” While the rest of the world was busy during the last year, I was busy raising a ladyBug as best I can, becoming a mental health advocate, losing my job, moving across the country, getting another job, starting divorce proceedings, falling 3 times, fucking up my hip, dislocating some ribs, starting a project management course, having a major surgery, losing my father to cancer, and experiencing some other shit I never imagined would happen in my lifetime. Some of this shit JUST happened in the last 3 months… so wounds are still fresh, with no scabs in sight.
Every month, I looked for silver linings, trying to insert balance so the words I shared wouldn’t start to sound like the dark spiral of clouds I reside in. I kept telling myself it was having balance. It wasn’t. I was trying to force myself to feel something other than what I woke up feeling. Depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, none of this shit feels good. Especially when some of the people you’ve called friend only want to experience you when you can make THEM feel better about their lives. There’s no space for you to experience anything other than what they can benefit from… they aren’t available for your struggle, pain and tears.
All the talks of relationships not being one-way will go out the door… especially when we can use “self-care” as a reason to dip out on reciprocity.
The one authentic silver lining that had nothing to do with forced happier emotions has been the friend who inspired the Monthly Memento Mori. I’m reminded of her and that reminder triggers thoughts about the others who are fully present for me and Bug. I’m cautious as to how much I lean on them because of this deep-seated fear of when I have needed my friends, expressed it and then was treated like a stranger… as if my expectation that they follow through is too much. There’s a part of me that’s waiting for the other friends to do the same thing. Irrational? Not really, if you know anything about trauma. I do understand that THIS IS MY SHIT to deal with so I’m vocal about it, while still being apprehensive.
Back to the fully present friends… they keep me alive because contrary to all the cliché messages, memes, affirmations, etc. life sometimes don’t feel like worth living. Yes, I have a child that some people think should be the reason I KEEP living but that line of reasoning ain’t all that healthy. That’s a lot of weight to put on the shoulders of a tiny human. I was two months shy of 30 years old when Bug left my womb. I had a reason to live prior to her and that never disappeared simply because she arrived. That reason was fading but knowing that you’re necessary beyond being of service to others? That shit makes me want to live.
So, shout out to friends who remind you that you’re necessary, wanted and worthy of time.
I got a 2 for 1 with silver linings this month though… finally got a date to sign the divorce papers. Talking about that marriage still causes me to feel a lot of unprocessed rage so there’s only one person who knows the most intricate details. She saw some shit in real time and other shit she’s been privy to because I trust that she’ll never use my lowest points against me. Being married to the person I share a last name with has been a never-ending nightmare. As much as I’d love to pretend he’s dead and a none factor, we have a child together. She cares about him even when she pretends not to and I see this… as a daughter of a man eerily close in personality as the husband and also as a mother who wants to fiercely protect her daughter from anything, everything and everyone that can cause harm.
So as July closes out, I look forward to reclaiming insurmountable amounts of time and freedom in August.
I can’t promise an immediate rise of happy emotions in August. That isn’t really how my depression works BUT I can assure myself that there will always be silver linings throughout life. That’s why I’m writing this in the first place.
