On June 2 my daughter turned 8 years old.
On May 10 I found my mother dead in her bed in our house.
I am forty two years old and in the beginning of this year I was given a possible diagnosis of bipolar 2 with overlapping ADHD.
I've spent my entire life wondering why I felt broken and why I couldn't just DO THE THINGS like everyone else seemed to do and feeling like an outsider and an angry teenager no matter my age.
In the weeks since my mother has passed, I've felt untethered. I've been floating through time and space. She is everywhere in this house. She complained (about everything, all of the time) that everything in here was ours (me & trever) but it's not at all true. As I am typing this, on my ancient shitty laptop (the child got a chromebook for her birthday) I am sitting in her spot at the table. The plant shelves over the window are full of so much life. A labor of love between my husband and my mother, truly. They had epic battles, for sure, of which I will not go into now, but their love of plants brought them back together, and for that I am thankful. As a child, I remember plants everywhere. I remember my mom making a lovely little garden out of the shitty patch of grass next to the driveway of the two family on Sagamore St. Her backyard at her house in Manchester was impressive, to be sure (and also a graveyard to quite a few beloved pets) and I am so grateful we had the time with her for her to create a this space for us to always remember her by. In fact, we spent all of mother's day working in our yard, she and Trever on the walkway and flower beds, and me on the raised beds for the veggies. It was a good day and we all got hot and tired and admired our work afterwards. We had McDonalds for dinner (if you know me, this is not surprising) and after a stiff drink, my mother exclaimed that her Big Mac was so good, but also they used to be a lot bigger. (complainer, always.) She spent that night having a phone night with her sister, drinking and smoking in the backyard and laughing and not at all controlling the volume of her voice.
Trever saw her that day, passing like ships in the early morning, she feeding her cats so they would let her sleep in, he getting his morning coffee before retreating to the crap factory for the quiet before his work day begins (that is what he calls the basement, I was not referring to the toilet, just to be clear.) The child and I began our Monday, and my mom slept in. I could hear her chainsaw snoring at 10:30. I spent much of the morning upstairs, as per the usual while the kid is remote school. When we came down for lunch, she was still in bed, not unheard of after a late night on the phone (like going to bed at 1am sort of late) but I had a curbside order to pick up at target and I was getting impatient. After the kid went back upstairs to class (and had her headphones on and couldn't hear what happened next), I went in to wake my mother.
and thats it.
that's the moment when everything single thing in my life changed.
12:38 pm
May 10, 2021
I don't feel like reliving anymore of that day at the moment.
Needless to say, I've been GOING THROUGH SOME SHIT.
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