RIP Melody

902839_448353021919264_1840874005_o.jpg1014349_471417692946130_2058203226_n
(Pictures of Melody)

I just found out that a friend of mine passed away a year ago. I knew her through Facebook; but, that doesn’t diminish for a second, the deep connection we shared. We had endless Facebook chats and spoke on the phone a few times too. We shared our pain, our stories and quite a few laughs. We called each other Warrior Goddess sisters. We chatted about family, men, life, death, grief, physical pain, mental illness, creativity, fairies, magic, God and the Universe.

 
Melody was there for me, the way good friends are. At the time I was Agoraphobic and living in a one bedroom apartment with my 12 year old daughter. My disability payments barely covered the rent. Melody always cheered me up and encouraged me. She’d tell me to summon my warrior spirit, and I would do the same for her. We were survivors. We took our turns with insomnia and depression, and we would always try to be there for each other.

408982_214746741946561_324043821_n 264758_121043047983598_1459661_n 
(Melody’s husband photo shopped these for us. Her the warrior, and me the fairy)

Melody was a giving person too. She was an artist, and jewelry artist. One day I received a package from her with a beautiful bracelet in it for my daughter, and a fairy necklace for me, that she had created, accompanied by a couple of handmade cards. She even once mailed me $11. cash for a bottle of wine! We called it drinking grapes! 🙂

 
The last time I spoke to her was 2012. We both had things to go through and we fell out of touch. I tried sending her a few messages through the years; but no reply. Her Facebook account wasn’t very active.

Today, in my Facebook memories, she came up. I went on her page to see if there was any new activity. The last posts were all of us wishing her happy birthday Sept, 2016. I scrolled down a little and there was a post that said RIP, and a few after that saying she passed away.

 
My eyes filled with tears. Her obituary says she died May 2016. She was only 54. No details or explanation, and per her request no memorial service. I have spent today processing this news, my emotions, and memories.

Emotions and memories of a woman that I have never met in person; yet feel so karmically intertwined with. I wished I had reached out more or there was something I could have done more for such a generous, humorous, beautiful spirit.

 
I can’t help but to worry that she was sick or in pain. She often was. It makes me sad to think she may have never got the healthy life she wanted. It makes me want to hug myself tight and be grateful that I have found the strength to persevere, and that I am still on this amazing planet Earth. I set free the guilt because that is what she would want me to do. No more suffering now, my Warrior Goddess sister! I hope your wild heart is free and your soul traveling like a magical gypsy. I’ll see you at the Fairy dance. I hold up my glass of grapes to you my Dear Melody! RIP

734470_438444082910158_1251760698_n

Sitting on your Birthday

MOM.jpg

This morning

I mourn,

sitting with

the memory of

my mom.

The day of her birth

onto this Earth,

playing the tune

of the Cardinal’s song.

Angels dance and celebrate.

I sit with bittersweet fate.

Sending my love

up and out,

beyond the stars.

I sit and weep with

my wounds and scars.

Growth and change,

the season of Fall.

Drenched in pain,

feeling small.

I miss you

sweet mama,

my other half.

Your smile.

Your laugh.

Living in my memories,

you will be

always,

Alive in my

heart and soul,

Today and all days.1376529_10201816702366786_995448202_n.jpg

Update: Post Meltdown

dc8229d30dca924862d10cae5fa5b03c-d4zupj4

“On the outside, I appeared  untroubled. I smiled and remained calm. On the inside, I was screaming, crying, frustrated, and clawing away at my skin.”

Every now and then there will be a sequence of life predicaments that overwhelm and paralyze my nervous system. During these periods, it takes every little bit of my energy and focus to remain grounded and in touch with my own realities. I want so badly to write, to blog and to share while I am in the midst of pain, yet, I have not reached the point where I am able to do that yet. That is why my posts are sometimes sporadic and I post these updates to share where I’ve been.

Fortunately, I’ve come far enough in mental illness recovery that I am able cope and survive these tests; but, it is not without the deep pain that growth and change bring.

I was barely recovered from my hysterectomy when I got my new diagnosis of DID. Then I began working on my rape traumas. As if there weren’t enough to process, an array of events followed, that eventually led me to a major meltdown. Beginning with my sister coming to stay with me.

My sister and I have had a topsy turvy relationship through the years. We had a difficult childhood and we were difficult children as a result. Her and I share an immense love for each other, coupled with intense resentments. We open one another’s doors to our pasts and therefore, we are huge triggers to each other. We will be getting along joyously for awhile and then eventually, we always end up in an argument and not speaking until the next time.

When she called me in June and stated that she wanted to move back to NH from Pa. I offered her to come stay with me. Part of me thought that maybe it was time we started working on our relationship and confronting our feelings about each other. I felt ready. Plus to be perfectly honest, I wanted a distraction from therapy, DID, and myself in general. A few days later she drove herself, her son and whatever belongings she could fit into her car and arrived at my front door. I was already full of anxiety but was distracted by my love for her and my nephew.

The second night she was there, we bonded about some of our emotional issues and our traumatic past. We giggled and reassured each other. Sisterly love at it’s best. She shared a fragmented memory of hers that suggested possible sexual abuse from our father, involving me. I have absolutely no memory of this and the worst part was I couldn’t even be sure that it didn’t happen. With DID and suppressed rape memories, I had no reason to not believe her. I cried myself to sleep that night in horror that my daddy abused me.

In an attempt to find truth and heal, I decided to include a separate note in my yearly fathers day card, apologizing that I hadn’t called in awhile because I’d been dealing with some suppressed traumatic memories in therapy. Then I added, that my sister shared this memory with me, and I asked if it was true. I of course immediately followed it with I’m sorry and I love you, recognizing my own constant desperate need for his approval.

Meanwhile, I had two birthday parties to plan for my daughter. One at home with family and one at a roller rink for friends. This was very important to me because following them, she was going away for three weeks to visit her father and family in Alaska. I knew I wouldn’t have much quality time with her before she left, because of the chaos of school ending, her birthday and planning for her trip, on top of the fact that our home environment temporarily lacked the personal space we were used to.

It was the evening of my daughter’s birthday when my sister found out that I had confronted our father, she was extremely upset with me, saying she’d never share anything again with me. I explained that I had a right to know. We did work through it and continued to celebrate a lovely evening. That night I lay down, drained on all levels, too tired to process it all and cried myself to sleep again.

A week later, after successfully throwing the roller skating birthday party for my daughter; I saw her off  for her trip with tears in my eyes. The same week, my sister confessed that the situation with our dad, may not be what or how she remembered. Exasperated, I sent a message via Facebook to my father apologizing.

By the end of the third week that my sister was there; my body was in extreme pain from sleeping on the recliner. I had given her and my nephew my room, because I thought it’d be easier for them. I was in physical therapy already for my C spine arthritis. The stretches and massages helped a great deal; but didn’t entirely alleviate my symptoms. l couldn’t sleep, I was overtired, in pain, missing my daughter,wondering about my dad, if he would respond, the list went on, and I honestly didn’t know how I would keep going.

The whole time I was in therapy twice a week, as I worked through my different parts, personalities and triggers that surfaced with all that was going on. The rape traumas and EMDR was put on hold right before my sister came. My therapist thought there would be enough going on, and she was right! I also decided to not confront the possibility of my father’s abuse at this time. I had no memory of it and now my sister wasn’t sure either. Therefore, I said to my therapist, “Unless of course he dies, I think that I’d like to put this aside.”

My father died three weeks later. It was a cruel cosmic joke. He died the same day my daughter came home. It was extremely unexpected, He was in great health and traveling the world, living his life. Then one day, on his way to meet his sister for their weekly coffee date, he lost control of the vehicle, ran off the highway and tumbled. He was dead when the EMT’s got there. They say he didn’t suffer. He had no seatbelt on but he was sober, which means a lot, because of his alcoholic history. They think he may have had a heart attack or stroke. In which case, my father would have probably wanted to not survive. He would rather die than be invalent. He was a very proud man.

My sister was settled in her new apartment in the building next to mine. When I came home with the news, we clung to each other desperately in hysterical tears. Only the comfort of my sister could help me confront this unbelievable reality. For my sister and I, it was even more unbearable with the open wound from confronting him and not hearing back from him. The only thing that brought us comfort were the words our Aunt, “Your father was just talking about you both a few days ago, and said how beautiful your hearts are.”

My system shut down and I was on auto pilot. On the outside, I appeared untroubled. I smiled and remained calm. On the inside, I was screaming, crying, frustrated, and clawing away at my skin.

It would take all I had to get through the services. My sister and I got into arguments all the way through; but, I figured we all grieve differently and I tried my best to just let it go. I knew that I’d be processing the loss of my dad for a long time. We all would be.

A month later was my sister’s birthday. I wanted to throw her a belated welcome home/birthday party. However, we got into another huge argument. Something snapped in me. I’d been on thin ice for awhile. I ran to my room, slammed the door, and couldn’t stop screaming and crying. The worst part of this meltdown was I felt unsafe. I wanted terribly to hurt myself. I picked up a pair of manicure scissors and contemplated where I’d cut myself. My mind was gone. Though there was a small voice telling me not to. I absolutely couldn’t cut myself after my daughter struggled with self harm. I dropped the scissors and fell to my knees and prayed. I hadn’t had that strong urge of hurting myself since my teen years. I helplessly cried and prayed for what seemed like hours. The cleansing brought relief; but, I was aware that this had been a major meltdown.

Luckily, I had therapy the next day. She saw it as progress. She said that this part of me surfaced because of the work we’ve been doing. This part of me obviously felt safe enough to show itself to be healed. It was hard to believe that darkness and desperation was progress; but, I went along with it.

My meltdown was a month ago. I am not only better; but stronger and wiser. I am relieved it happened because for years I’ve been fearing another breakdown. Now, I know I’ve come to far to let it tear my life apart. I have been working with this part of myself that wanted to self harm. She is where all my anger and rage has been stored. She is what I considered my dark side. I am learning to balance this and will write about it in another post.

Since this meltdown, my other sister moved to NH as well. She was struggling with grief and addiction; but, she is doing better now. My family has seen some hard times. The loss of our dad was the loss of our last parent. Both our half siblings and us lost our mothers before this.

It’s a strange point to be at in life. An adult orphan. All we have is each other now. Our family will continue to persevere, because our love for each other is stronger than any resent or blame, and our parents are smiling angels shining down on us.

wp-image-546555537jpg.jpeg