By Anonymous
Not what one might expect to hear in this situation but it’s my truth. I apologize ahead of time for being at least a little vague on some of the details in this piece. The reasons may become self-evident.
Before the pandemic, I lost both of my parents within almost exactly 9 months of each other. When my dad passed, it was as anyone would expect — completely awful, but we had Mom. We had to be strong and help Mom get through all of this.
Dad’s passing was not sudden and I had been helping to take care of him for more than a year before his death. He had stressed to me and all my siblings, that he was worried about Mom when the time comes. We all did exactly what we said we would and focused on taking care of Mom.
My mother had been my best friend for years. This wasn’t something that happened after we lost Dad. She was a teen mom, as was I. She was always close enough in age to me that we had multitudes of commonality. We liked much of the same music, the same types of movies, even crushed on some of the same celebrities. We would talk on the phone for hours, nearly daily. I told my mom things I never shared with anyone. She knew me better than anyone. She knew the real me. The me that I had become throughout my life and not the me that everyone else still thought I was from my youth.
When my mother died, I was not OK. The pain was debilitating and all consuming. Trying to be a comfort to my siblings or even my own children, was something I could not do. All I wanted was to be with my Mom. I know how that sounds, and that’s how it’s meant. I did not want to exist any longer and simply wanted to be with my mom.
At this point, I have to jump forward a couple years because I truly have no memory of how I got through each and every day. I know I tried to make positive choices and plans, thinking that things to look forward to or creating a positive environment for myself could ease the cavernous emptiness. As with any deep depression like this, people encourage you to talk to a professional. I did. It was extraordinarily disastrous. It made me significantly worse every time I spoke to someone. I stopped. I certainly could not keep functioning day to day like that.
Ahead a few more years, to the end of 2019, beginning of 2020. I had a significant birthday coming in 2020 and I decided to celebrate. I told everyone I wanted a huge birthday, which I never do, and I wanted everyone I loved in my life, friends, family, coworkers, all of them, to come celebrate with me. I needed everyone to be there. I had no intention of making it to another birthday after.
I made a fancy invite online and tried to connect with anyone and everyone I ever cared for, worked with, and family I hadn’t seen in years. I planned a menu and started experimenting with recipes to make all the things I enjoyed the most and spent the entirety of the day giving all of them the most positive memories of me that I could give. I had a Pinterest board and Facebook posts and all was going to be a success. Then, everything, everywhere shut down.
I pushed out the invitations letting everyone know I still would have my massive blow-out but it would be delayed. Then it was delayed some more. And again. After 6 months, I told everyone that we would simply get together for my next birthday I still wanted to spend a wonderful day with all of them. None of them ever knowing why I wanted to spend that one spectacular day with them.
After the next birthday came and went, I finally stopped thinking I was going to outlast the pandemic. In the time the pandemic has pushed out the gathering again and again, I have been less and less determined to have it. I am feeling less and less the urgency to see everyone I love all at one special event for their memories.
Now, I’m in a weird kind of limbo. I’m not in that devastating spiral but I am also not looking forward to much. I have the face that everyone is seeing that says “I’m OK” but I’m still not. I’m existing. (Insert cliché time heals all wounds statement here.) I’m not healed, not by a long shot. I’m also not planning to not exist at the moment either. I’m not sure numb is better, but I think that’s where I am now.
I go through the motions of the day, laugh when I’m supposed to, make plans that I really don’t care about, and get irritated at people who complain incessantly over miniscule inconveniences. So far, COVID has kept me alive.
Photo credit: Glenn Losack, M.D. https://www.flickr.com/photos/glosackmd/
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Editor’s note: I honored the writer’s request for anonymity only after careful consideration. I knew this was a piece that was important to share as a reality check for all of us. I also wanted assurance that the writer was not actively contemplating harming herself or others.
Tomorrow: Lynn St. Georges, Meanderings