The Ramblings of a Mental Meanderthal

"I wish I had a river I could skate away on." Joni Mitchell

Back in September, I said was not looking forward to Christmas. For the most part, everything I said would happen happened. Social media is tough, because you see presents, trees, matching pajamas, and actual families getting together. The best things I experienced today were Chinese food and two naps.  Dad talks a good fight in an attempt to make December 25 about my birthday. I appreciate his intentions. I cannot separate my birthday from Christmas in my mind, so a refusal to observe the latter just leaves me with an unprecedented sense of loss and loneliness. I managed to escape some of it yesterday by watching Man of Steel , which I think is a pretty good film, and Batman vs. Superman , which has its moments but is just weird. Even as I was thinking "This movie is so bad," at least I wasn't wallowing in my grief. I was eating junk food and disintegrating in front of the computer, but at least I haven't succumbed to getting drunk. If I ever started drinking alcohol

I have a Christmas birthday. This year is a ends-in-zero year, so it's a milestone of sorts. It'll be the first birthday and the first Christmas since Mom died. Dad doesn't celebrate Christmas, won't wish me a merry Christmas, and sneers when I wish him a merry Christmas. I get a "Happy birthday," though he hasn't done presents in ages, and Chinese food delivered. Last Christmas, Dad and I went to church and then went to the rehab center where Mom was. Dad saw her unconscious and struggling to breathe and demanded a ride to 7-11 so he could get a lot of beer and get drunk. The next day, I got an earful of complaints about how awful it was for him to see her like that. I got to see her like that at least once a week. Yes, Dad. It's awful. When he was well enough to drive himself 250 miles each way to visit my brother in prison, Mom and I encouraged him to go and visit his son. Partly, it was to encourage him to do something he really wanted, but mostly,

It's Mother's Day. Mom has been on my mind every minute today. She is most days, except when work keeps me too busy to think, or I've been able to lose myself while reading or watching something. I just went to the kitchen to consider dinner options. I opened the fridge and started sobbing. No clue where it came from; it just hit me like a train. I have a friend Ellie, who also works with the kids at church. Her mother died two weeks before mine. Their relationship was tough, due to her mom's abuse and undiagnosed mental illnesses. Ellie is the oldest daughter, so she did a lot of the work of raising her siblings. So her experience as a daughter was very dissimilar to mine. But she still has grief today, too. The men took over the kids' Sunday School hour today. No classes, just playing a version of baseball with the kids' singing determining their team's progress around the bases. Neither Ellie nor I wanted to be with the women being celebrated in the churc

Mom died three days ago. Every minute feels like nails on a chalkboard. I deleted her profiles at Netflix, HBO Max, and Disney+ earlier this evening. I just went back to one of them and lost my breath when I didn't see her name. I guess it's going to be a lot of contradictions now. I want Dad to feel like he has more space and presence here, but everything I create for him takes away from Mom. Someone is coming to pick up her oxygen condensers tomorrow. I don't have a problem with that, but packing up all her medications for safe disposal? I wept. Oh, G-d. My mother, my wonderful, patient, sweet mother is dead. I couldn't stay long after all the monitors in the hospital went flat/zero. She looked less like Mom and more like something -- instead of someone -- every minute. The first time she was in a hospital and then a nursing facility was seven years ago. I felt like she should be smiled at by at least one person who wasn't getting paid to do it. It was almost alwa