The Darkness

Darkness.
Seeing no way out from a life heavy with a lack of light.
Sigh.
Begrudgingly starting every day.
Silent.
Every single day I regret being silent to those who have come to this blog to read my words and have found help or comfort through them.
Worse.
Wish I could laugh in the face of every person who has said it will get better one day because all I feel is the overwhelming sense of sinking deeper.
Lost.
Unsure of where I fit or belong.
Disconnected.
Not part of anything yet surrounded by all the things I should be.
Wordless.
No longer able to put into words how I feel.
Pathetic.
Hate myself for the inability to function.
Downhill.
Living proof that it is a myth to take it one day at a time and things will get better.
Drowning.
The thought of breathing it all in makes me choke on the misery.
Disappointed.
Not at all doing what I am supposed to be doing or living the life I should be living.
Letdown.
Unable to be there for the people who love me or be part of their lives like I once was.
Unfocused.
Getting what needs to be done every day is a daily battle barely won.
Failure.
My original goal of helping others through my words and experience with grief has failed since losing my ability to write.
Lonely.
My heart beats for you with miserably unattainable desire.
Guilty.
Constantly questioning why it was you, not me.
Jealous.
Everyone’s lives seem to be coming together in such a perfect loving way while I am trapped in this dismal cage.
Angry.
This is the life I have been given and I wish I could return to sender.
Frustrated.
The daily motions that must be gone through quickly grow tedious.
Mundane.
Nothing seems to bring joy or relief or brief moments of clarity.
Master of the mask.
Faking it has no longer become an option, just reality.
Unhappy.
Struggling to remember the last time I was happy and woke up excited for something to happen.
Incapable.
I am totally unable to forget and move on even though people tell me I should.
Lonely.
Life without you just does not make sense and all attempts to fill the void are inadequate.
Weak.
So tired of the fight and effort it requires to get through each day.
Defeated.
I feel like I need to acknowledge that my entire life of bad luck has won.
Bandaid solution.
Trying anything to cover the pain and make it go away.
Acceptance.
Realizing and accepting that regardless of trying to be a good person and giving so much to others isn’t enough to avoid fate when she comes knocking to take away everything you love.
Caught.
See absolutely no way out of all of this.

Grief.
The only existence I know.
Surrender.
Tired of fighting and ready to give in to the unrelenting darkness.

Darkness.

The Days The Mask Fails

Costume Party in Cachi, Costa Rica (2009)

Zach,

There are just some days where I am too weak to even attempt to put my mask firmly in place before I leave the house.  Today was one of those days.  They are brought on by nothing in particular, provoked by no one.  Just sometimes it isn’t worth it to even try to pretend.  I don’t want to pretend.  I refuse to pretend.

But it is days like these that catch people off guard.  They are confused.  You are bombarded by questions of, “What happened?  Are you OK?”.  I want to scream at them, “What the fuck do you think happened?” or that “The worst already happened; what else do you think needs to happen for me to feel this way?”, but there is no point.  They don’t get it.  They can’t.  I pray they never will because you can’t comprehend this until you have felt this way and I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.

But some days, the already agonizing grief is that much worse.  You couldn’t imagine it getting any worse but it does.  Rock bottom is a myth.  There is no bottom.  There is only falling deeper and deeper into the torture that is now my life.  Nothing is normal about it and I hate people for thinking that it is.  For those who think because I managed to crack a smile yesterday at work or was able to carry on a somewhat decent conversation on my lunch break that I am now magically better.  I’m not.  I am far from better.  And yet they continue to be astounded, bewildered, and confused by those days when the mask fails me.

Am I expected to always put up this front?  I do, for their sakes, but days like today I just can’t.  So what are my choices?  Either I go on trying to present a shaky yet more stable front only occasionally exposing the broken person inside or I show that side all the time.  Either I make it easier for everyone around me most of the time and wait to fall apart when I get home or I make everyone utterly uncomfortable and unsure what to do or say.  I just don’t know.

Today was terrible.  My eyes are swollen and red from crying all day long.  I was short with people who didn’t deserve it, I was unfocused when I should have been diligent, I let frustrations get the best of me and snapped at my students.  Today my mask failed me.

Zach, I miss you so much and I’m at a loss for how to go on.

And I’m so tired.

 

 **the poem below was written by a father for his daughter but the message rings true for all of us grieving and struggling with the thought of another day**

Another Day
John Plourde

I wake each morning to face another day,
The tears on my pillow have now dried.
Each morning is just another painful way,
Of remembering you and the day you died.

The mirror shows a face that looks so old,
My eyes are sore and red from the tears I cried.
There are times when the pain of your death feels so cold,
I cannot escape this terrible grief, no matter where I hide.

My beautiful daughter, I miss you more than words can say,
I cannot get that horrible day out of my mind, although I have tried.
The phone call, the terrible news and visions are always in the way.
Grief shows no mercy and takes me on a terrible never-ending ride.

My mask protects and helps me through each challenge I face,
I promise you this; my endless love for you will never fade away.
Tonight, as I rest my head on my pillow, I pray you are in a peaceful place,
I say a prayer and feel thankful that when I wake, I can remember you another day.