Tuesday, December 21, 2010

coming home

i know i've been a horrible blogger for the past month.  sometimes it's felt like a whirwind of activity, and sometimes it's felt like molasses in january. 

i'd love to say 'i'm back'.  i'd love to be able to promise you more posts about awesome husband, eating tarzipan, my ridiculous family, and my fucked up life.

i don't know that i can promise you any of that.  i get through my days with the help of tarzipan (and probably more alcohol than i should admit to drinking), awesome husband, my brother, and my great family and friends.  it takes a tragedy to bring us closer together sometimes, and that has been exceptionally true in my family.  it's not that i was like estranged from members of my family, but there were some family members that i might have only seen or talked to a couple of times a year.  with my mother's illness and passing, i feel like i have a whole new immediate family now.  specifically with a few of my cousins - even though i may not talk to them much more than i did previously, i feel like we are all closer.  and i wouldn't feel strange calling one of them in the middle of the night if i needed them.

it's a different feeling than i'm used to.  but i like it.

what i can promise you is more bullshit about life, the universe, and everything.  i plan on going back to talk therapy in the new year - so that will be worth at least a blog or two a week.  probably about how much i hate my therapist.  and awesome husband and i will be moving back to new york.  so packing and stressing and actually moving will be amusing - to you guys, at least.  and of course, i am continuing on with my schooling.  even though new york state will not recognize an education degree received online, so i had to switch my plan of attack.  i'll now be getting an associates with a concentration in psychology.

other than that, you'll probably have a lot of blogs about my mom.  about what happened, how fast it was, what it felt like, what i was thinking.  about planning your mom's funeral when you're 30 years old.  how it feels to have another empty room in the house.

about how i can't walk into her room too often, because it still smells like her.  how taylor - the oldest cat - has taken to sleeping on her pillow since mom left.  how i keep putting off opening her drawers or closets or looking under her bed, because i don't know if i can see her things yet.

so yeah, it won't be a barrel of laughs.  but i know it will be good - for me, at least.  and maybe it will help some of you too.

mom and me at my wedding, october 2004


  1. I am so sorry for your loss, 30 is too young to lose a parent, in my opinion. While I will never say, I understand (my mom is still alive) I an say that a few years ago, my mom had a stroke and the hospital told me that she wasn't going to walk out of that hospital, and that I needed to get all of her family there to say goodbye.. I know what i felt in that moment, and although she pulled through, I can't imaging actually losing her. Know that we are here for you, good times, and bad.

  2. I'm sorry that that happened to you but you will get through it. The sad part about life is that not everyone you love will be there forever. But the bright side is that it looks like you have an awesome support system with you and I'm sure you're going to be fine.

    Just take baby steps.


  3. I am also super saddened by your loss. I do think that the blogging will help you sort it all out and I bet you'll find a lot of support here. I know that it takes time to adjust to the new 'normal' but in time it will get better. The therapist will help too, even if you hate them. Know that I am keeping you close in my heart.


  4. Well I'm glad that at least you're in a place where you can blog at all.

    And don't worry - we're here to listen to whatever you have to say.

    Unless of course there are Spaniards nearby and then...


    I'll be back. ;-)

    - B x

  5. Thinking of you and hoping you enjoy the Greek food and the family company. Sorry you are stuck.

    So sad about your mom.

    Wishing I could make things better.