Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Grief




You're a Ladybug!

Most people assume you're female upon seeing you, even though you
might very well be male. Don't let this gender-bending get you bent out of shape,
though... you just happen to exhibit the quiet dignity and soft demeanor that
people associate with the feminine side of things. Your favorite fruit is the
watermelon. For some reason, people think it's fun to sing about horrible things
happening to you and your family.



Take the Animal Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.



I don't even know how to begin this - the picture and the word "Ladybug" are key. My Mom's nickname was Ladybug - a nickname becoming more and more common in the South. My hair stylist calls me that, and each time I think she's talking to my mother.

Guess by now, friends, you've figured out that I'm a pretty sensitive person, and, while I'm crossing this road of life, I do look both ways - backward and forward - never mind that semi coming 'round the bend to the left. So, when I took this quiz, I was startled to find that I am a ladybug.

But, I don't want to be like my mom - but I do want to be like my mom. I feel the same way about the Bible - can I pick and choose which part I want? I want to have my Mom's ability to multi-task. She could play cards, smoke, drink coffee, and cook a full Southern dinner for six all at the same time. I do really well to walk and chew gum at the same time.

As I was knitting the other day, I was saying a particular thank you with each stitch - some were for people in my life (past and present), some for those who make life easier for us, those who grow our food, for physical things like air conditioning. Then I kept going in a stream of consciousness sort of way - one name leading to another - God bless Momma and Daddy and David. Tears began forming and I wiped them away with the sleeve of my t-shirt. So, I changed tactics.

My therapist told me that I should journal about my anxieties and fears - and not do it on a blog; so I thought, okay, I'll do it with each stitch, taking longer with the stitch if the fear, anger or anxiety merits longer. So, I began with being angry that I cannot function at all in the heat/humidity we've been having. I was anxious about having had so much company that I might not have been the proper hostess. I was anxious about my relationship with my partner (unfounded). I was fearful about the proposed renovations to our home (well founded, but premature). I hated myself for the mess in my study. And, I went on with more personal things that I won't put on the blog.

Finally, I got to a point where the tears were blurring my stitches; so I quit knitting and cried a while. Cleansing tears. Relief.

And, so much grief that has been crammed into the "hole inside of me" that I cried for a while, a long while, sniveling, bawling, various forms of crying as I thought about the losses and potential losses (see, I really am good at looking both forward and backward). You know, there's not a blessed or damned thing I can do about any of them. I can't change the losses that have happened, and I can't prevent those losses that are to come. People will die. People will be born.

And, speaking of that, my god-daughter is a grandmother - a girl, born yesterday. Healthy. Does that make me a great grand godmother? Fancy name for one twice removed. But, I suspect that she is a great grand god-daughter! Hooray for Layla Irene Kurland. May God's light be upon her now and always.

And, there you have it folks. Life! the grief, the joy.

5 comments:

Saint Pat said...

Life is such a strange brew, isn't it?

Congrats on the new great grand god baby!

I took the animal quiz. It told me I'm a deer, a little paranoid about hunters and rifles and stuff, but I should stay away from lodges and headlights. Good advice, probably :)

Grandmère Mimi said...

Sharecropper, so much for the therapist's advice about the journal.

I found myself feeling sad for you and then laughing at the end of the post at the "great grand godmother".

I'm still on a learning curve with past and future events that I can't control, to let them be, as one therapist told me, "Turn off that video tape!" I'm learning slowly to do just that.

The tears were good, I think, cleansing and healing, just so you're not crying all the time.

My godchild is a grandmother, too, so I'm with you in being a great grand godmother. I never thought of it that way before.

Prayers for you.

Wormwood's Doxy said...

Sharecropper--this post really resonated for me. For years, I was unable to cry. It was only when I had my "breakdown" and began to claw my way back to mental health that I was able to cry again. Those tears were healing for me.

But I also learned how to laugh again---something else I had forgotten how to do.

The grief and the joy, all mixed up together. Life is interesting, isn't it?

Blessings on little Layla. May her life be filled with happiness, and may she always know that she is loved.

sharecropper said...

Thanks for the comments, friends. I do tend to go from "I'll tell you what...." to "on the other hand."

I guess I really like "I've looked at life from both sides now.....and still somehow, it's life's illusions I recall. I really don't know life at all."

Linda McMillan said...

I like languages where the word for HELLO and GOODBY are the same. The French have salut which I like a lot. It means that even as we greet a new joy we are also releasing it. Each greeting has the parting built in.

I think that every tear eventually gets cried. I once cried every single day, for longer than I will admit except to say it's measured in years. You just cry for as long as it takes.

I know that you are dealing with hard things but you ARE doing it. And showing up is half the battle. I admire you for showing up. A lot.

Lindy