"Oh lord, please don't let me be misunderstood..."

I've written in the past about my mental illness, about losing mom, about a lot of personal things...writing is my best outlet and, at times it feels like my only outlet. I have a wonderful set of friends and family that I know I can vent to...but at times, it feels like I'm becoming or have become a burden on them. There's only so many times you can tell the same story, share the same feelings and frustrations to a person before they get tired of it. That's when I turn to writing. To try to explain, to make myself be understood.

No one, except my father and sister (who witnessed it over the years), truly understands how close I was to my mom. She was the one constant in my life. The only constant. Picture...picture two people in a lifeboat. They share the little food that they have, take care of each other, sometimes one rows, sometimes the other does. Neither one have a life preserver. One morning, one of them wakes up and sees the other is gone. During the night, a strong wave comes up and sweeps the second person overboard. They're gone without a trace, leaving the first person to feel loss, guilt and anger.

If you can imagine that, you can come close to understanding how I feel.

It seems cliche, but my mom really was my best friend. I told her everything. She, in return, told me everything. In later years, after she grew less ashamed of her drug usage, she would answer any questions I had about her cocaine usage. I learned a lot about cocaine, and the drug culture over all due to her honesty and openness. It took a long time for her to be so open, due to the shame and the guilt she felt. But I believe, aside from the fact that we were so close, the main reason she told me so many details was to keep me from wanting to do drugs. Since I hadn't had a clue growing up about her being an addict (I had a very wonderful childhood and she was always there for school events, to take care of me when I was sick etc.), I never saw the dark side of addiction. I didn't see the bad times. Her knowledge did keep me from having a desire to do harder drugs, although my own opinions on things like legalizing/using pot have changed.

Whenever I had a problem, she was there. Whenever I had a question, she was there. Whenever I was tired or worn out or sad, she was there. Whenever I was happy, accomplishing goals or exploring new things, she was there. She was there to encourage, help, comfort and inspire. In the last seven years though, the roles slowly shifted. As health problems started to emerge and be diagnosed, I was motivated to start keeping track of her medications, diagnoses, various doctors, and surgeries. In 2006, she saw one of the cardiologists I worked for at the time, who did two relatively routine cardiac tests. Due to the outcome of those, she was referred to a vascular doctor, and between the two, they saved her life. Her right carotid was about 80% blocked. Much more and she could have had a stroke. The vascular doctor cleared it out and a lot of her symptoms improved.

She had smoked since becoming an adult, for the majority of her life. We always encouraged her to quit, but it remained her last addiction. After being admitted into the hospital in late January 2012, once she was out, she quit. We were so proud of her. Her admissions in January and then in March were due to severe pneumonia. I can't remember which one it was, but on one of those occasions she was already so far gone her kidneys had started to shut down. Both times, the doctors told us that if she hadn't been admitted when she was, she would have died. In January, it was dad who took her to the hospital. In March, it was me who called 911 when she wasn't fully conscious. Over the course of 2012, thanks to easing back on the pain medication that she was given due to a host of chronic problems (which I was in charge of monitoring so she didn't accidentally take more than prescribed), getting her teeth fixed, and general improvements to her regime, she was getting better.

I told her several times that after her dental implants were gone, and her feet recovered (she had had the first foot surgery one week before she died), 2013 was going to be her best year yet health-wise. We had plans. Dad had plans too.

The thing that this has drilled into my head is that tomorrow isn't certain, no matter what. Don't leave things unsaid that need or want to be said. Don't leave things undone that need or want to be done. If you want to do something (you know, as long as it doesn't hurt yourself or others), then do it. Travel. Get a degree. Go skinny dipping. Skydive. Get drunk (responsibly). Volunteer. Buy someone you care for a gift. Spend time with friends. Have sex.  Go shopping. Live. The tattoo I got a few months ago symbolizes this, and has a small reminder of mom. "Don't just survive, live." is a quote from a friend. I'd heard different variations of said quotation before but they had always been rather long. This fit perfectly on my left forearm. For emphasis, there's a small lightning bolt below "survive" - my mother had a second nickname in the last 15 years of her life which came from the life she had lived and the struggles she had came through. Her nickname was "Stormy." Hence the lightning bolt.

Yet, there's another side to this situation. As a result of her not being there for me to take care of anymore, I've found I have more freedom to travel. I have gone to several wrestling shows that are within anywhere from an hour to 3-4 hours away from me. I've been gone for weekends at a time, road tripping with people I have come to know as a result of attending these shows and developing friendships with. My dad supports this and doesn't worry nearly as much as mom did, only asking that I check in with him and that I be careful. He trusts my judgment as to who I hang out with and where I go.

There's good and bad with this new freedom. The good is, obviously, that I have been able to discover 'new' wrestlers (new to me that is) and see some truly fantastic matches. I've also been able to get to know new people, get out of my comfort zone and expand my boundaries.

The bad is that I've spent more money this year than any year ever. On gas, hotels, tickets, merch, etc. Which, while I don't regret it, I could have used that money more responsibly. I've felt like I've been going off and just leaving my dad more than I should be. And I still feel guilty. If mom were still alive, there's no question that I wouldn't have gone to as many shows as I have. WrestleCon would've been out most likely. No road tripping with Steph. No Dreamwave. Possibly local shows, like IWA:MS. But, as a direct result of her death, I've been afforded more opportunities. And I feel like (as stupid as it sounds) I shouldn't be having good times that are a direct result of it. Every time I leave, I feel a pang. I thought at first the guilt would fade, but it hasn't. I don't know what to do about this.

I've also made some bad, or at least unhealthy choices that I might not have made if I had had her guidance. True, while sometimes I've done things in the past that she told me not to (and sometimes it's been fine, sometimes not), I always took into consideration her advice. She had a lot more life experience than I had. More times than not she was right. Now...it's all up to me. I'm not discounting the advice that I can get from my dad, others in my family or my friends but there's something to be said for the advice that only a mom can give you.

However...can I look back at the past year and say I have no regrets? Maybe just one, but that's iffy at best. I'm talking serious regrets too, mind you. But, aside from the lingering feeling I still have that I could have prevented her death, I honestly can't think of any. I've been very nasty, very bitter, very angry and lashed out at people that didn't deserve it - fortunately most of those people have at least forgiven me if not allowed me to try and mend the bridge. That's the thing I've taken away from this: always make the effort to mend fences while you still can. If you try and the other person doesn't want to, that's totally fine. But if you don't try, you'll spend the rest of your life regretting it. I have people I have deeply hurt and will always regret my actions/words towards them. 

Another unforeseen consequence of her death is the fact I've had a lot of time to myself to think. One of my worst traits is the fact that I tend to think too much. About most anything and everything. Once the snowball is formed and sent downhill it picks up speed until there's an avalanche coming down. It's mostly at night that I have my worst moments. During the day I can keep myself busy with work, chores, reading, etc. but at night when I'm lying in bed trying to sleep...the thoughts, the "what if's", the loneliness..it all gets to be a lot.

I started out this post as trying to explain further what mom's loss has meant to me, but I realize that despite everything I have written or will write, only I, my immediate family, and anyone who has ever suffered the loss of someone who meant the world to them will know what I am going through. However, this lack of understanding from others who don't fall into these categories hasn't stopped them from reaching out to me. I can honestly say that without my dad and without the friends and acquaintances I had before her death and those that I have made after the fact, I would not be here. Or, I would not be doing as well as I am now. I have more to say about this, and individual thank yous to give, but I'm going to save those for an overall 2013 retrospective piece. But for right now, I want to say a genuine thank you.

To anyone who offered an ear to listen, thank you.
To anyone who offered a hug, thank you.
To anyone who let me cry and either offered words of consolation or just quiet empathy, thank you.
To anyone who forgave me when I was sharp or harsh with them, thank you.
To anyone who did their best to make me laugh, thank you.
To anyone who forgave me for past misjudgments and previous arguments that were wholly my fault, thank you.
To everyone that cares, thank you. Thank you so very much.

Lastly, I started this post about a month or two ago. Over the holidays these past few weeks I've been struggling with my depression. The holidays used to be something I looked forward to, and truthfully I love giving gifts and seeing the expression on people's faces when they open their presents, but now I understand what people mean when they say they're in the "holiday funk." I want to post what I posted a night ago about what depression feels like, in the hopes that people understand that this genuinely is something I live and struggle with every day. Some days are better than others, but there will always be times where I am in a bottomless pit, unable to get out. It's my hope that once the holidays are over with and life returns to 'normal' (whatever that is), that things will improve and it won't be as hard as it has been. But if you ever want to know what depression FEELS like, read this:

Except for eating dinner with dad downstairs, I spent all day in bed. Called into work. If you ever want to know what depression is or feels like, it's this: Not having the energy or the willpower to get up. Not having anything to look forward to. Your every thought is that you will never fit in anywhere; there is nothing redeeming about yourself; you have nothing to contribute to the world; and that no one cares about you. Depression is anger turned against yourself. It's not a matter of thinking positive or "snapping out of it." It seeps into your mind and into your very bones and uses everything you have against yourself. It's awful. The Zoloft helps but there is no cure.
So if you ever wanted to know what Depression feels like..that's it. It sucks and I hate it.