Adventures in Grief

Allie Brosh writes a blog entitled Hyperbole and a Half. It's creative, funny, and  gut-punch honest. Her latest post is about her depression and recovery. Go back and click on the green words and read it.

The Diaries try to be as truthful as Hyperbole and a Half. If I were sharing like Allie, I would tell you that I'm not depressed because I still feel, even if it's just mostly exhaustion and anger. But I'm not angry about my mother's death. I don't blame anyone for it. I'm not railing against God or medicine. Actually, last week I was angry about Mother's Day. Not because it made me miss my mother any more because my mother is dead every day, not just on holidays, but because I anticipated all sorts of sympathetic messages about how difficult the day must be, blah blah blah. I told the Captain I was going to type FUCK YOU in response, so I'm pretty sure he sent out a mass email warning everyone because only two people shared that sentiment with me.

This week I'm angry at apple and iTunes and their fucking "geniuses" for impudently erasing all my data, including voice mails from my mother I had stored on my phone. They made me cry, and that made me angry.

It's not that I think crying is bad or weak. In fact, I think it's the most appropriate response to losing my mother. I just want to be able to do it on my own terms. I don't want people monitoring or suggesting or prompting my grief. I don't want anyone asking me how I'm doing. I don't want sympathy or empathy unless you're my own sibling, and I don't even feel the need to talk to them because we all feel the same way. What would be the point?

Basically, I want to be left alone.

Here's what's problematic:

Firstly, I live with eight other people. Only a select few of them leave every day to go to work or school. I am never physically alone.

Secondly, I am the mother of five children. I am never psychically alone.

Thirdly, it sounds selfish and uncaring to say, "I vant to be alone." Just ask Greta Garbo. I truly appreciate how much everyone cares about me. I just don't want to see or talk to anyone right now.

Fourthly, it freaks people out when I say I want to be alone. It makes them worry about my mental health. It's a little bit like the panel in Hyperbole and a Half where she mentions suicide and it makes her mother cry and then she has to apologize for making her mother cry. I don't want to be responsible for an emotional reaction to my emotional reaction.

I don't want to take care of anyone and I don't want anyone to take care of me.

That said, this is what will really happen:

Life will go on because there is no stopping it. And I don't even want to stop it because the good moments-concerts and prom and planting flowers and summer blockbusters-outweigh the bad. I just want to keep my shit to myself (SHE SAID ON HER BLOG) because no amount of discussion with family, friends, or therapists will bring about a quicker resolution to what I'm feeling. I don't want to share about what I'm experiencing everyday. It's double work for me.

No one can help me, and that's okay.

 Don't freak out.