It is the kind of day that taking xanax would have been a welcome relief. And part of me wants to write about anything else but the truth of how brutal the pain of this loss is, and what it has done to me. I am waking up again afraid of everything, afraid of the whole world, afraid of everything in my life. I will be 64 two weeks from tomorrow and I don’t know how to go on from here, what to do, how to manage. And no, medication wouldn’t help this. This time last year I was highly medicated and it didn’t make a difference. Existential crises must be lived through. I will live through this.
My sweet daughter Rachel will be over around 5. We’re going to watch a movie and visit for awhile. I have been on and off the phone with my best friend Jeff, and I just got off the phone with Jenny, my eldest daughter. I have lovely, loving people who are being so kind and supportive, I am not alone. I know that in this I am lucky. I don’t take it for granted. But losing Tanner, and what the devastation of his loss has shown me about myself, once again, is paralyzing. The abuse that I suffered from 4-18 left marks through my psyche and ability to do life at all. By 18 I had had the first of many breakdowns. I have been more in therapy than out in my lifetime and at almost 64 am still in weekly therapy. I am, to a very large extent, so afraid of the world at large I can barely leave my house and seldom do. I cannot work outside the home and, though I have tried, I haven’t found a way to make income from here. I have a very limited income, but I get by. But the thing is, taking everything in consideration, it is a life with sometimes crippling limitations. My carefully ordered world is what makes it possible for me to get through the days. My dogs are the center of my world. I wake up with them, they are by my side all day, we nap together, we sleep together at night, and for some years now I have gone to sleep at night with Tanner laying against my right side, my hand in his fur. It is an empty space there now, and the pain is knife sharp.
I will survive this, I know that I will, but it has brought, in sharp relief, the picture of my life as it is, as it has been, as it will be. It takes my breath away. It paralyzes me. At 64 I am physically healthy and getting in better shape all the time with the ketogenic diet, I am losing weight. I could live another 20 or 30 years. And do what? I know that sounds harsh, but let me explain.
Now, this is extremely difficult to talk about, and the only reason that I am is because I know that I am not alone in this, it is a terrible problem in the world today and I don’t know how to manage it. Here goes…
Because I live on so little money I receive some benefits. Not a lot, not like a lot of people get. I seem to have just enough that I don’t qualify for disability but little enough that I do get a little, not a lot, money toward food. I qualify for a government program that pays for my therapy. As I have no medical insurance since the fire I go to the clinic and I live on little enough that I am on the low end of the sliding scale when I absolutely must seek medical care. These few benefits that I do have are absolutely essential for me. If I made some money through various projects — and I have tried — I could make just enough to lose the few benefits that I do have but not enough to sustain anything that losing the benefits would leave me without. It is a Catch-22. So I face turning 64 and ask myself, What now? Even self-publishing a book, which I have long planned to do, if I were lucky enough to be successful enough to make some money with it, could mean I would lose these few benefits. The absolute terror and confusion about this is so paralyzing I can’t rightly explain it.
This is what losing Tanner has done. It has opened the floodgates of terror about every imaginable loss in my life. It has made me question what kind of life I can even have. It has made me question how I can begin to survive the loss of either of my other two little ones but I know this, I cannot live without a dog, I simply could not face life completely alone. Since I was a little girl going through terrible abuse it was my dogs that saved me. I said to Jeff this morning, as I have said many times before, “People have hurt me, animals never have.” Losing one of my beloved animal companions undercuts any kind of safety that I feel in the world. I am untethered. Every breath hurts. I can barely move from this chair.
Today I sat here while I was talking to Jeff and drew the lady above. Just a little doodling and smudging with pastels. I wasn’t trying to “make art” I was just trying to make something tangible to feel connected to something. It is messy, I felt funny sharing it, but today it’s all I had.
I think I am done here for now. I can’t think of anything else to say and I have already said too much, but if there is one other person who has these fears, know that I am holding you in my heart and prayers. We must get through this somehow, but how? What do you do if you can’t make your best effort in the world to get by a little easier without risking not being able to get by at all? That’s what is haunting me today. Tanner made me feel okay in the world. His bright, bold, young spirit led us all here somehow. Without him I am lost. I don’t know what else to say.
The Experiment ~A 365 Day Search For Truth, Beauty &
Happiness: Day 1 ~ Introduction To The Project
“Do or do not. There is no try.”
Yoda
Oh, Maitri, I wish I could hold you right now. I first typed hug, but no. To hold you as you weep, to hold you as you sob, and blubber, and wail, and sigh. Only then would I let go to help you see that you haven’t fractured into a million pieces of worry. I would gently argue that what you saw in Tanner, is also within. For YOUR bright, bold, young-at-heart spirit has led us all here somehow. May you find some peace throughout the rest of your day.
Thank you so much dear Catherine, you are so dear.
My darling daughter Rachel just left. We had a long while to talk, we ate dinner together, and we just watched the incredible film “Loving Vincent.” Beautiful, amazing work of art, touching and heartbreaking. But a lovely thing to watch. And now another night comes. Your kind words here mean so much to me Catherine. Thank you so much honey. I have made it through another day. One day at a time. Just one day…
Maitri,
So many of us (me, included) have fears like you describe. They take verying forms, from money to health to what awful thing(s) might happen next.
It’s all about trying to stay atop of the waves, I guess, although I often find myself swimming in the surf, trying to stay above water. And I have many blessings in my life, so it’s not about that!
Thanks for sharing your thoughts. It’s always helpful to know you’re not alone!
LW
Thank you so much Lisa honey, you have been such a dear friend, and you are right, trying to stay atop the waves. It has been a rough surf lately, it’s felt impossibly hard to keep my head above water at times, but somehow I manage. My sweet Rachel was here with me for a few hours, she just left, it was so good to have her here. No, I am not alone, we are not alone. It’s good to remember that.
I’m sending you love and a gentle, warm hug…
Maitri
Thank you for sharing your drawing Maitri. I really like the soft effect of the smudged pastels. And though her eyes may be wide with fear there is something soft and precious and vulnerable about her. You make art even when you think you aren’t. 🙂
I hear your concerns about financial and other security in the senior years. Yes, I’m sure many others feel similarly. Thinking about the long term can make us feel uncertain and scared. All we can do for now is live day to day, hour to hour, moment to moment with what we have.
Thank you so much sweet Joan, I appreciate your kind words about my drawing, it felt good to do it, kind of sad and kind of a relief in a funny way.
And you are so right about going moment to moment. I try to remember that, and sometimes I do. In this tidal wave of grief all of my moorings have been swept away but it helped so much to have Rachel here with me, and tomorrow is another day. I hope you have a peaceful night honey. I’m sending love to you…
Thank-you for sharing your story. I believe childhood abuse does leave a terrible adult legacy. Many people enshrine motherhood thinking a mum can do no wrong, that there is some sanctity attached to being a mother but there is not. Adult daughters of maternal abuse often get the raw end of the stick later on by observers who were never present even though they may have obvious ill-health for the rest of their life as the result of changes to their DNA directly related to the abuse. I think it sets the stage for further abuse because the energetic body attracts more of it. I am now 48 and am processing a lot of the energy stuff myself. I can’t begin to work out what happened when but I do know the abuse was a daily occurance. I can’t remember many specific incidents its just a blurry mess in my childhood and early adult life swimming in a sea of stormy and sickening cocktail emotions. I have had one health problem after another but am going to persist healing myself on the level of energy. I am glad I did not pass this legacy onto any children of mine, its probably a good thing that my family lineage dies out. But the best thing you can do is walk away and be a better parent to yourself, and just draw from life whatever enjoyment you can, having a solid sense of self and inner strength and resolve
You are welcome Leeanne, and yes, abuse does leave reverberations throughout the rest of our life. I once wrote, “How do we stop the chain of pain, the gift that keeps on giving?” We stop with us. I have 3 children, they were not abused, and I have very loving relationships with all three of them. My darling Rachel was here with me for several hours and just left. I hope that you find peace and healing in your life. I wish you well…
I hate that you are caught in this Catch 22 situation. I hope that sharing this story has brought you some measure of comfort. You are in my prayers…….
Thank you Lorraine, I appreciate the prayers, they mean so much…
So glad u painted again! She’s so human so soft and wistful. You drew and u wrote yr truth and did not skip a day of yr blog. I am so proud of u.
You will rise along with the seeds you planted!
Xoxo
Thank you dear Ka, and she is not painted, I used pastels, a gentle soft way to draw on a hard day. And yes, that’s one thing I hold onto and am proud of, through the hardest days I continue to show up. That’s something, isn’t it? Thank you so much for always being here. It means so much to me…
M. xoxox
Dearest Maitri, I SO get what you mean about the financial fear, and the fear of physical disability. I only know that FOR THIS MINUTE, I am okay. And that has to be enough. I love you, Braveheart.
Oh thank you so much Trece honey, you are so dear. And that is exactly what I must hold on to. In this moment I am okay. When the bottom falls out, as with losing my baby Tanner, it seems like the bottom also falls out of the present moment and I am scrambling in terror worrying about the future. But just now, after a storm last night that put branches down all over my deck, I have cleaned it all off, put fresh seed out for the birds and squirrels, fed my 2 little pugs, made my coffee and I am here starting another day. Right now I am okay.
Thank you for reminding me of that dear Trece. I am sending you so much love and a gentle, warm hug…
Yep, that nasty old fear rears its ugly head at some time or another in our lives. It’s tangible and it’s real but it does not define us because you know that it is not of God. I know that I know that God is my Redeemer and He is my Provider. My prayers for your peace and stillness and renewal are sent up. Much love, Marge
Oh thank you so much dear Marge, the prayers mean so much to me, I surely need them now. Thank you for being here and praying for me. It is deeply felt and very much appreciated…. Love to you too.
Life can be very difficult sometimes. Loss is universal, no one escapes it. I’m glad you have such supportive family and friends to help see you through, as well as sweet Pugsley and Delilah. Your Ladies will help you too. Sending hugs and much love. xxx
Thank you so much Jenny honey, and I appreciate the hugs, I am giving them right back to you…