Feeding my Soul
I'm helping my mother write out thank-you notes for tributes to my dad and gifts for the family during our bereavement. I had to take a break. This is tough shit, you know? Maybe you don't. Maybe you hope you never do but I hope you do someday, in a far distant future, when a parent dies, preferably of very, very old age!
It's tough to say good-bye to your dad, to someone who has known and loved you all your life. I may have said this before, but no one will ever love me the way Dad did, I will never be that special in anyone's eyes again. This doesn't discount the fact that I will likely (hopefully) find a mate, a partner at some point in my life. It's just not the same as the love of a parent.
I've spent the better part of the last month seeing to it that everyone important to me is 'fed.' I've soothed, cried with, aided (and abetted, in some cases), hugged, been myself...all for the benefit of those I love. I continue to feed my mother by staying around until the beginning of next week. But I've also started the process of feeding myself. It is, but is not limited to, physical feeding. I haven't cared much recently what I put in my mouth, as the recent five-pound weight gain evidences. Now, I'm eating Double Chocolate Milano cookies because I'm hungry and they taste awfully good! That's very removed from using food as self-medication.
Today is the first day since Dad died that I'm going to try to get through without any self-medication. No Xanax, no Flexeril, no nothing. Just me and my raw-ass feelings out there in the big, old world together. It's been hard. I woke up and started a blog entry while drinking my coffee. That will be coming later, maybe this evening or in the wee hours. Coffee is good.
Then I showered. Yes, I have neglected myself in the week since Dad's service to the point that I've only been showering every other day. I think today was actually two-and-a-half. (Warning: gross subject matter ahead!) I sat on the toidy today, with a scented tissue to my nose, and reminded myself of the incontinent butts we try to pretty up with lotions and powders at work. When I realized that my own aroma was reminding me of work, I knew action needed to be taken! So, although I didn't shave my legs, I am freshly scrubbed with no need of artificial perfumes except for the scented soaps I love so much.
It's hard, walking around out here with all these emotions just below the surface and no protective chemical barrier. ::wonders if Wellbutrin and Lexapro count:: But I know I'm going to have to get back to a "straight" life eventually, and soon, if I am to return to work. I miss many of my co-workers. I guess I even miss smelly butts, though I know I don't want to do that much longer.
Oh well...I only managed to write out one card my mother dictated before I had to come seek the solace of nicotine. Could be a more-than-a-pack day at that rate. I suppose I should go downstairs and get it done. Then I can go about the business of continuing my healing...play on the internet, chat with distant friends, get out for a movie and a trip to South Street (still where "all the hippies meet), Philadelphia. Maybe a drive to the Italian Market...something to expand my horizons, get me out of the house, return to the business of feeding my soul...
It's tough to say good-bye to your dad, to someone who has known and loved you all your life. I may have said this before, but no one will ever love me the way Dad did, I will never be that special in anyone's eyes again. This doesn't discount the fact that I will likely (hopefully) find a mate, a partner at some point in my life. It's just not the same as the love of a parent.
I've spent the better part of the last month seeing to it that everyone important to me is 'fed.' I've soothed, cried with, aided (and abetted, in some cases), hugged, been myself...all for the benefit of those I love. I continue to feed my mother by staying around until the beginning of next week. But I've also started the process of feeding myself. It is, but is not limited to, physical feeding. I haven't cared much recently what I put in my mouth, as the recent five-pound weight gain evidences. Now, I'm eating Double Chocolate Milano cookies because I'm hungry and they taste awfully good! That's very removed from using food as self-medication.
Today is the first day since Dad died that I'm going to try to get through without any self-medication. No Xanax, no Flexeril, no nothing. Just me and my raw-ass feelings out there in the big, old world together. It's been hard. I woke up and started a blog entry while drinking my coffee. That will be coming later, maybe this evening or in the wee hours. Coffee is good.
Then I showered. Yes, I have neglected myself in the week since Dad's service to the point that I've only been showering every other day. I think today was actually two-and-a-half. (Warning: gross subject matter ahead!) I sat on the toidy today, with a scented tissue to my nose, and reminded myself of the incontinent butts we try to pretty up with lotions and powders at work. When I realized that my own aroma was reminding me of work, I knew action needed to be taken! So, although I didn't shave my legs, I am freshly scrubbed with no need of artificial perfumes except for the scented soaps I love so much.
It's hard, walking around out here with all these emotions just below the surface and no protective chemical barrier. ::wonders if Wellbutrin and Lexapro count:: But I know I'm going to have to get back to a "straight" life eventually, and soon, if I am to return to work. I miss many of my co-workers. I guess I even miss smelly butts, though I know I don't want to do that much longer.
Oh well...I only managed to write out one card my mother dictated before I had to come seek the solace of nicotine. Could be a more-than-a-pack day at that rate. I suppose I should go downstairs and get it done. Then I can go about the business of continuing my healing...play on the internet, chat with distant friends, get out for a movie and a trip to South Street (still where "all the hippies meet), Philadelphia. Maybe a drive to the Italian Market...something to expand my horizons, get me out of the house, return to the business of feeding my soul...
posted by Cheryl at
3/25/2006 01:24:00 PM
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