Since reading Tara's last blog, I was reviewing some of the poems I have been writing the last few months and thought I would share this one....
Lost Soul
Chaos, lost, confusion surrounds
Not knowing which way is up or down
Trying to feel complete
When everything seems obsolete
But in this cloud of doubt
Messages are shouting out
Find your way, find your way
So you will no longer be wandering astray
And in this darkness, clarity appears
You have finally faced your fears
You are not lost, you are found
And the lost soul has found their common ground
Meg
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Wanna Be Sedated
Ah I miss Joey Ramone-yet another person who didn't live all that long.
So this blog basically started because Meg and I noticed that our primary perspectives on life have shifted since our mothers have died. One of the most noticeable changes in my personality is that I’ve become hyper-cautious about my physical well-being. I think a lot about death and become panicked at times because I think I’m going to die soon. A headache is no longer a headache, but a tumour in my brain. My tiredness must be a blood disorder and of course terminal, or at least debilitating. My chest pains always signal a heart attack. I have chest pains once or twice a week and no doubt the pains themselves are psychosomatic. When my arm or foot falls asleep and gets all tingly it means there is probably a blood clot somewhere, which means I’m about to have a stroke. You get the picture; nothing is ever just a common ailment. When I have these conclusions I never act upon them. I don’t share my thoughts with anyone in my daily life and I rarely go to the doctor or stay home from work. I simply panic. I completely stress out about aforementioned symptoms which inevitably make them worse. The cycle continues.
I haven’t articulated these thoughts to anyone other than Meg. I do have a very concrete awareness of the fact that A) these thoughts are largely irrational and B) these thoughts must be directly tied to my mother passing at such a young age. I never use to think like this but in recent years have become downright fatalistic now and I believe it’s because my mum died. That event in December of 2007 instilled in me the ridiculous reality that you really can just die one day. So I can’t help but dwell on the fact that I’m next. I mean we share everything else…same knees, same thumbs, same fine curly hair, same skin allergies why shouldn’t we share the same way of dying?
Living with this acute awareness of my body and health has been very difficult these past 2 ½ years. It has been so hard to believe that I am healthy and that I am ok and that I am not going to die at 52 out of the blue from some abnormal blood vessels.
Furthermore, this pseudo hypochondriac lifestyle I’ve taken on has made it very hard for me to honour my mum’s life and her living mantra of always being positive. She was the eternal optimist before she had the brain bleed, then during her recovery and even coming out of her operation. She instilled in my brother and I the absolute necessity of positive thinking and appreciation for every small thing in life. She really and truly always looked on the "bright side of life" (cue song 'cause she'd sing it). This is what she wanted for her children. To be honest, it's been over two years since she's been gone and my life is still stuck in such a deep malaise. I don’t enjoy things. I’m so afraid of ending up like her and so depressed for not living like her.
-Tara
So this blog basically started because Meg and I noticed that our primary perspectives on life have shifted since our mothers have died. One of the most noticeable changes in my personality is that I’ve become hyper-cautious about my physical well-being. I think a lot about death and become panicked at times because I think I’m going to die soon. A headache is no longer a headache, but a tumour in my brain. My tiredness must be a blood disorder and of course terminal, or at least debilitating. My chest pains always signal a heart attack. I have chest pains once or twice a week and no doubt the pains themselves are psychosomatic. When my arm or foot falls asleep and gets all tingly it means there is probably a blood clot somewhere, which means I’m about to have a stroke. You get the picture; nothing is ever just a common ailment. When I have these conclusions I never act upon them. I don’t share my thoughts with anyone in my daily life and I rarely go to the doctor or stay home from work. I simply panic. I completely stress out about aforementioned symptoms which inevitably make them worse. The cycle continues.
I haven’t articulated these thoughts to anyone other than Meg. I do have a very concrete awareness of the fact that A) these thoughts are largely irrational and B) these thoughts must be directly tied to my mother passing at such a young age. I never use to think like this but in recent years have become downright fatalistic now and I believe it’s because my mum died. That event in December of 2007 instilled in me the ridiculous reality that you really can just die one day. So I can’t help but dwell on the fact that I’m next. I mean we share everything else…same knees, same thumbs, same fine curly hair, same skin allergies why shouldn’t we share the same way of dying?
Living with this acute awareness of my body and health has been very difficult these past 2 ½ years. It has been so hard to believe that I am healthy and that I am ok and that I am not going to die at 52 out of the blue from some abnormal blood vessels.
Furthermore, this pseudo hypochondriac lifestyle I’ve taken on has made it very hard for me to honour my mum’s life and her living mantra of always being positive. She was the eternal optimist before she had the brain bleed, then during her recovery and even coming out of her operation. She instilled in my brother and I the absolute necessity of positive thinking and appreciation for every small thing in life. She really and truly always looked on the "bright side of life" (cue song 'cause she'd sing it). This is what she wanted for her children. To be honest, it's been over two years since she's been gone and my life is still stuck in such a deep malaise. I don’t enjoy things. I’m so afraid of ending up like her and so depressed for not living like her.
-Tara
Monday, June 28, 2010
Poem-work in progress
Over the last few months I have been writing off and on. Was thinking of my mum when I wrote this-still not keen on some of the lines, it is a work in progress....
You can borrow my sorrow
You can borrow my sorrow
I have enough for two
With all the things that I’ve been through
If it will help you get through tomorrow
You can borrow my sorrow
Broken heart, lost dreams
When life is falling apart at the seams
If it will help you get through tomorrow
You can borrow my sorrow
Dreaming of a day
When the sorrow will wash way
I know I will get through
And your sorrow will leave you too
Then there will be no more sorrow to borrow
Meg
You can borrow my sorrow
You can borrow my sorrow
I have enough for two
With all the things that I’ve been through
If it will help you get through tomorrow
You can borrow my sorrow
Broken heart, lost dreams
When life is falling apart at the seams
If it will help you get through tomorrow
You can borrow my sorrow
Dreaming of a day
When the sorrow will wash way
I know I will get through
And your sorrow will leave you too
Then there will be no more sorrow to borrow
Meg
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Hallelujah
I just finished watching an amazing movie called Feast of Love. In one scene Hallelujah plays in the background and I thought of Mumma C....
xo Meg
xo Meg
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