First Death Anniversary of my Mother

Today marks the first anniversary of my mother dying.

I am still numb and emotionless. I haven’t grieved for either parent.

It’s too much, too big, too much trauma at one time. I never feel safe enough to have feelings. I haven’t cried about anything in over six months. I used to cry seeing a freaking butterfly or a pretty sunset. Now? Nothing.

It’s not simply the anniversary of my mother suddenly and tragically dying… no, it’s beyond that.

It’s the fucking rage I have with how I was treated by my family and some friends that awful day and afterward. Finding out that I was lied to about how and when she died, and the only reason I found out the truth was by getting a copy of the hospital records. It’s how her cats and possessions are withheld from me. There’s so much more I want to say, but I can’t because god fucking forbid my “family” (that didn’t give a single fuck about her) come for me like they did last year because I was fucking blogging my own experiences of the hellscape I was going through.

There was no memorial or funeral. No celebration of her life. No acknowledgment.

I AM FUCKING ANGRY. It’s not even a loud anger. Just a simmering rage underlying my very being at all moments of every day.

I wrote a private post two weeks after everything went down because I wanted to remember as many details as possible. I switched it to a password-protected post in case anyone wanted to see what happened. I will be careful with whom I share it with, but it doesn’t hurt to ask me for the password to Stream of Thoughts.

I feel like something broke inside of me that day, and when I lost my father four months later, it ensured that “putting me back together again” wasn’t an option.

I tried a few therapy options, but I was told that my situation was “too complicated” by some or that I was “so funny, you should write a book or something!” by others. So, that put me off from trying any more therapists. And that’s without me even touching on my life of fucked up trauma, just wanting to have feelings again.

It doesn’t help that our health insurance doesn’t cover mental health services, so my out-of-pocket resources are limited.

I don’t have an outlet for it besides my blog, and even then, it’s a lot of putting it out into the void. It’s isolating.

I feel so completely and utterly alone.

Still, I write this to remember.