Why I'm Such a Hard Ass

"We are born alone, we live alone, we die alone." I wrote a paper on that statement when I was all of 17 and in my freshman year of college. At the time I concluded that being alone is good for the soul while loneliness is one of the worst conditions a human can endure. Some feel lonely even when surrounded. Feeling lonely while alone...now that sucks.


Chris and I took the kids to a 5k to benefit a local childhood cancer charity this morning. Nobody that was related to us showed up. Nobody that I considered a true friend showed up. Nobody that knew Dodge while he was alive showed up. There are a lot of words to describe how that made me feel. Lonely is definitely one of those words. It's been a terribly painful experience from start to finish. I suppose I am too optimistic in thinking that days like today could be uplifting in some way. If I weren't dealing with real issues (such as my child's death) I would probably be more bothered. I won't lose any sleep over it but it's just a little more salt in a gaping wound. It's another reminder of why I am now alone by choice. I'm done. Begging, asking everyone to care, explaining why, all of it is over. I've said more than my piece and if someone hasn't heard or understood it's because they don't want to.


My son's life mattered to me. It mattered more than a $25 donation. It mattered more than sleeping in on a Sunday. It mattered more than...fill in the blank. I don't expect the rest of the world to care as much as I do. I'm the mother. And as such, I hold all rights to be insulted for the lack of respect that has been shown towards my child, his siblings, my husband and myself. I'm aware of the stigma of death, especially a child's death. I have tried over the past 20 months to see other's perspectives on the subject. Try as I may, I can't understand the way of thinking.


Those that know me well and can recognize my subtle facial expressions often see the daggers I shoot with my eyes when someone tearfully proclaims me as "strong". Nope. Not really. I'm about as weak as they come. I have had the fight beat out of me. So I'm not strong, I'm surviving. The other option is not an option so that's what I choose. Surviving includes carrying on when you don't want to. In my experience, surviving has meant willing myself to remember my son always knowing that the pain outweighs the joy. Surviving has meant unclasping my hands and getting off my knees in the futile hope that someone, somewhere would help me. So I chose to get up. When I did those that were so enthralled by the drama of a sick child and his grief stricken mother were nowhere to be seen.


I can honestly say that I've met some great people since then. It's no judgment on their character but they will remain at an arm's length. I have no more room in my life for hurt. In turn, I am incapable of being a person that can reciprocate all the support that I wanted so desperately at one time. So you see, now it's become my choice. The power in that is liberating.


Despite all the venom that I spewed above, I am still a happy person. I'm cordial and witty and friendly. I'm quite certain that I'm more sympathetic than the average joe. Am I a hard ass? Absolutely. But I am also doubly aware of the insensitivity that created my mindset. So that is my silver lining to this journey that has shredded my soul.

2 years later

I have this great knack for managing to become instantly bored with an idea that only days (or hours, or minutes) ago I was ecstatic about. Add blogging to the list.

Honestly, life took a hard left turn down the shitter since my last entry over 2 years ago. So I blame that. But I really do enjoy writing. I've always thought of it as talking, also one of my favorite pastimes. Except I can edit myself and don't have to deal with the pesky interruptions of others. I also can get "it" out of my system. What is "it"? Depends on the day. I have a private journal that I've kept for quite a while (no one else's eyes will ever see it) along with Dodge's caringbridge site that I updated quite regularly until he passed away.

For those who don't know my son, Dodge, relapsed in January of 2010 with brain and spinal cord cancer. There really is no secondary treatment for the cancer he had. So we tried this, that and the other thing to no avail. He passed away July 22 of 2010. And nearly 20 months later, here I am.

I considered starting a new blog that deals primarily with bereavement, grief, etc.. But I found myself coming back to the core idea of why I started this blog. I want to remember things. Not just about Dodge. Not about the crazy train ride of my own emotions. But I want to remember my life. I often find myself looking in the mirror and wondering who I was 5 years ago, 2 years ago, 1 year ago. I don't remember a lot. And I don't think that it's normal. As far as I'm concerned abnormal is the new normal so I'm ultimately ok with that.

Grief has changed me to my very core. Some of what I've thought and done I'm not very proud of. It's my eternal excuse for why I can't do this or that. A lot of my ambition has gone out the window. The zest for life hasn't quite come back. I'm not sure if and when it will. The bad emotions usually associated with grief (sadness, anger, bitterness) are still there but they have transformed into a part of my personality. That sounds scary but it's the truth. Putting on a happy face and swallowing a happy pill are not real solutions for me. This is who I am now. I'm still sarcastic and zany (at least I think so) but behind that there's an ocean of emotion. That rhymes.

In a nutshell, I'll continue to post here. I'll probably offend some at some point. Sorry. Sometimes, my humor is construed as mean. Sometimes, I truly am mean. But I'm honest. I'm not shy. I *think* I say what a lot of people would like to. So read on!