Shaken but Not Brocken!

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It All started with the Loss of the pillar of my life, My Mom. I was Lifeless and felt like I was living in an empty hole. I began sinking deep into the pit of a dark place. Nobody felt what I felt, nobody understood what I was dealing with; and it seemed as if Heaven had Closed its door on me. As much as I had siblings who were grieving the same Mother, I still felt like I was alone in this. Since everyone grieves at their Own pace, the grieving process was definitely different for each one of us. I felt like an outcast and it seemed as if no one could relate to me nor quite grasp the magnitude of my sorrow. There was a feeling of emptiness and lifelessness all mixed in one. I was dead yet still alive, and for a long time I did not have the purpose to live anymore. This picture summarizes that phase of my life. I knew deep down my heart that I would not live to see the new year or better yet, my 27th Birthday. I felt Brocken beyond repair…. My Sisters fought endlessly to get me to go see a therapist, but their efforts were in vain. I was pressured to go talk to this so-called therapist to appoint they even volunteered to accompany me during the sessions. But again, their efforts were short-lived. I knew they cared and wanted me to get the help that I helplessly needed; but I just did not think I was repairable. The Scripture says: “Take everything to the Lord in Prayer” and if God could not help me, I did not see how another human being was going to help me. I blamed God for leaving me behind and allowing such anguish in my Life. I Prayed every night for God to take My Soul Like He took my mothers’ soul. And every day I would wake up disappointed that I was still alive. I knew I was in a dark pace but just did not know how to Get Out. I had a hard time viewing her body for I could not fathom seeing my mother’s body inside a casket. However, I did see her the day of the burial only because they were about to bury her, and I had not yet seen her. That image repeatedly played in my mind, and each time I would cry myself to sleep. I convinced myself that the only way to move forward was to glance through her casket pictures over-and-over again until the day I could look at the pictures without shedding a tear. It took exactly 2months for me to be able to do that. In the meantime, I continued to pray for God to help me cope with it, but to my surprise; help had yet to arrive.  After many failed attempts for God to answer my Prayers, I decide it was upon me to jumpstart the process. I figured if I placed myself in harms way then it is human nature if nature takes its course.  I began driving to local recreational parks in hopes of running into a veteran. It was brought to my knowledge that they have morphine (for emergency usage in case they run into enemy grounds). I waited at the park hoping to spot a former veteran or ex veteran and possibly secure this antidote. To my dismay I was unsuccessful. I soon resort to ordering it online but soon remembered it will trace back as pre-agitated murder if it delivers to my address. Besides my family were already going through enough, and the burden of being found lifeless in our family home would have been traumatic. Nobody knew of my plans even though they were forever worried about me. If I left the house for more than an hour, they would bedazzle me with phone calls. I soon realized I needed a different plan outside the house and immediately began job searching. Since I was unemployed at the time, I figured I would need an alibi to cover my whereabouts for a long period of time. And what better way than to use work as an escape-goat. I was able to secure a job a week after and proceeded to carry on with the plans once again. This job entailed reporting to work at 5am daily, and since I lived 30mins away; it was the perfect alibi. I would have to leave the house at 4am to make it to work on time. And so, I figured if I suppressed my lungs then, my heart would die out by the time the sun rises. Since there were not too many people on the road at that time, I would be lifeless by the time anyone noticed me by the roadside. My only worry was someone coming to my rescue and being resuscitated too soon and having to live with the consequence. And the other worry was where I was going to secure this morphine. Amid it all, a dear friend would call to check on me. Unaware of my plans as well, we spoke briefly daily. Out of the conversations, the one thing I recall them telling me was to take one day at a time and not worry about anything else. And so, I did just that. I figured nobody understands me nor gets me, so the only thing left to do was to write down what I was feeling. I began writing down what I was feeling and the more I wrote, the more I felt a sense of relief. I soon began having dreams/visions, and each time the voice told me to “Finish what you started’”. At the time I thought that meant to carry on with the plans, but I soon realized God had better Plans for me. One day of writing turned into a week, and before I knew it; I had a manuscript depicting my transition during that grieving process. Anytime I would relapse I reflected from the previous days’ writings and convinced myself that things were starting to get better. If I could survive the previous day, then I was able to survive the current/present day as well. That is how my self-titled book “Memoirs of A Dutiful Daughter came about. It is then that I came to realization of what my dream truly meant, finish what you started was a reference to me launching and publishing my book not what I assumed it meant. It dawned on me then that someone out there was enduring the same pain I was dealing with but just did not know a way out. And in the blink of an eye, I had a light-bulb Moment. I knew I had to publish this book. Writing became my Therapy session, and I knew I had to bless those who are in the same predicament as me. Around the same period, arrangements for Her One-year anniversary were ongoing. I was barely learning to breathe again and knew I could not attend that gathering. I made the decision to stay and not attend her anniversary that year. That decision did not sit well with the family.  They repeatedly stated that ‘If you have the ability to travel Home, why wouldn’t you Travel?”. For me it was never about the ability to travel or not travel, it was the ability for me to be mentally, emotionally, and physically prepared to see her headstone and Grave in person again.   In order to live again, I had to stay away till I am mentally and emotionally in-synched. I have since seen her grave in pictures, however; It has been two years since I last saw her grave in person. I am still not sure if I am ready to take the leap to go revisit that scenery in person just yet. And for a long time, it seemed as If I was all alone in this, but reality of things is, you are never quite alone. God was with me all along, I lived to see my 27th Birthday and currently coping with my mother’s loss for 3years and counting. There is no timeframe for grieving, for every moment brings new memories. There are days you can reflect and laugh, and then there are days you cry like she just now died. If I were to summarize what the process has been like I would probably say bitter-sweet. No, it does not get better with time You just learn new ways of coping with it. Anything and anyone can trigger your emotions; however, there’s life after it all. You will find a reason to live again. Trust me I know. I have seen 100 so everything else is 99.