Washington Irving once said, “A mother is the truest friend we have… when trouble comes upon us, she will cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness.” 

We don't often think about the day she will no longer be there to "dissipate the clouds of darkness." We push any thoughts of losing our mothers aside until the reality of it hits us head-on. 

I lost my mother in the Spring of 2022, and I'm not the same person I was before she left us. Losing our mothers has a way of changing the way we see the world. A part of us dies with her. To say everything changes is an understatement. Holidays are no longer the happy occasions we saw them as when our mothers were there, reminding us of the gleeful Christmases of childhood, the Easter egg hunts followed by amazing homemade dinners, the warm gathering of family on Thanksgiving and deciding who would sit at the children's table. It was me, by the way. I always enjoyed sitting with my nieces and soaking up that energy and innocence of youth.

When she left us, my brother, sister, and I talked of feeling like orphans, as most people do when they've lost both parents. We lost our father in 2019. That was my first experience with losing someone really close to me, and I sobbed for days on end. That ache had just begun to lessen a bit when my mother died. 

I've had many dreams of her, and she's always happy in them. Within a day or two of her death, I had a dream of her looking young and beautiful and, best of all, happy.

Since my world fell apart this past July, I've ached for her presence, to be able to cry on her shoulder and have her tell me perfect words of comfort. My sister recently lost her long-term partner to Cancer. We've both felt our mother's absence more painfully of late. 

I still talk to her. I ask her to come and visit me while I sleep and console me when I feel like the heavy emotional pain is tearing me apart. I'm certain she's stopped by at least once to comfort me as I awoke feeling peaceful after requesting a visit from her.

My sister and I talk of taking our mother shopping with us, as we often feel drawn to buy things she would have loved. I recently bought an antique set of paper dolls from the fifties because my mom always talked of her love for them.

I wish I could tell the world how special my mother was. She didn't have the best childhood, so she made certain her children had her presence, which was far more valuable than the things she couldn't afford to buy us. She made us caramel apples one Autumn, a memory I can see sharply in my mind to this day. On snowy Winter days, we were made to stay inside once we'd had our fill of the snow, as she didn't want to be cleaning wet snow from her floors. We didn't mind though, as she'd make us steaming mugs of hot cocoa with the little marshmallows. She once put on her "American Graffiti" album and taught us and a cousin how to do "The Stroll." 

She was a fairly strict disciplinarian but became a little more like a best friend once we were grown. I could talk to her about pretty much anything. I loved telling her stories of my nights working the Psych unit and hearing her laugh. She had the best laugh. It filled the room and nestled into the corners of my heart.

I will miss her until I see her again one day. Until then, I carry her with me wherever life takes me and try to listen in case she wants to give me sage advice as she did while alive.

I can feel her presence now, as I write about her. I know exactly what she would say. "Oh, Tam, you're going to make me cry." I just hope I told her how much I appreciated her while she was here. 

Be Like the Buffalo

When a storm is upon them, buffalo run right through it and come out the other side of it, while cattle run from it, thus having the storm chase after them. They tend to stay in the storm, while the buffalo are soaking up the sun on the other side of it.

I heard this metaphor to facing our problems from another woman who'd experienced infidelity in her marriage, which is the storm currently bearing down on me. My husband of nearly ten years turned to another woman when things got difficult in our marriage. To say I was crushed is an understatement. I felt like I was coming apart from the inside out. I got angry. I sobbed until I was dehydrated. I turned to friends and poured my heart out to them. I withdrew. I prayed. I journaled. I did much self-reflection through the guidance of my therapist. I lashed out at my husband until he withdrew and moved out. He couldn't face what he'd done to me. He blamed everyone but himself. 

I am still running through the storm. I have more good days than bad now. I'm feeling stronger and no longer pray for death. Yes, the pain was so intense that I prayed God would take me away from it all. As someone who's always loved life, I get sad just writing that.

I now see that he is wounded inside and did something that caused further damage to himself and to me, as well as our relationship. We are both using this separation for individual healing. I am unable to think about the future at the moment, as it gives me anxiety, so I continue running through this storm. I will eventually come out of it and into the sunshine again. My hope for him is that he will charge through it as well and stop running from it as the cattle do.

Sometimes I feel like I'm standing still, while the world goes on around me. The Earth continues to spin on its axis and all around me people are having full lives, finding their dream jobs, their soulmates, their very purpose in life.

That whisper in the back of my mind has turned into a shout but still I silence it with doubt and fear.

Why?

Just when I think that I have my finger on the pulse of my own happiness, it stops beating.

Then I hear that Zen voice. "The answers you seek are inside. They have been there from the very beginning."

Yes, it's time to start meditating again.

Letting Go

I feel you with me always,
Only a dream away,
If only I could touch you,
You'd see what you mean to me,
Pain follows love,
And love follows me wherever I go,
One of these days,
Maybe I'll turn around,
And let it all wash over me.

I wrote that ten years ago. What did it mean to me then? Longing for my higher self? My one true love? Perhaps a little of both.

Love hasn't been kind to me. Or maybe I haven't been kind to love. Either way, I've grown weary of searching for it. Isn't that when you find it? So the wise have said.

So I'm letting go. No more expectations, no more longing, and no more searching. I am raising my white flag at love. I am too tired to look for you anymore. You will have to find me.
I'll be somewhere in this vast Universe living my life.
.

What Dreams May Come

In ancient Chinese medicine, it is believed that dreams are a sign of a troubled mind, that one should sleep through the night and not remember their dreams.


While I have had dreamless nights, I find that I miss them. I take great pleasure in decoding my dreams when I can.


Last night, I fell asleep with my Howlite stone under my pillow. It is said to help insomnia due to an overactive mind. It certainly didn't stop me from dreaming, however. I had active dreams with many familiar faces showing up.  I dreamt of my ex-boyfriend for the first time since we split. He made only a brief appearance but I believe that most of the dream was centered around him. A healing dream.


He made a comment about my stone which, oddly enough, I was carrying around with me in the dream.  He had a peacefulness around him that he doesn't have in the waking world and he cast a few concerned looks my way.


Admittedly, I have had a hard time letting go of our connection. The closeness was unlike anything I've ever experienced, even in my marriage.


Later when I was alone in the dream, I was on my laptop and googling the phrase "That was yesterday." Now in my generation, Foreigner had a big hit by that name so I awoke thinking about that song. When I googled that phrase in waking life, I came up with mostly Foreigner hits but also an old song by a British duo (Chad and Jeremy) called "Yesterday's gone," which is more appropriate to my interpretation of the dream. "We had such happiness, I can't believe it's gone forever...I loved you yesterday and yesterday's gone."


In the course of the dream, two strong women I know and respect immensely showed up. My interactions with them weren't particularly memorable but I believe that they were merely symbols of strength in the bigger picture.


When I awoke, I had a Cher song running through my mind, one I haven't heard nor thought of in quite some time. It was "Strong Enough," and such an amazing message for my subconscious mind to send me. I also awoke with my stone clutched in my hand, even though it was under my pillow when I fell asleep. Strange? Perhaps. Or maybe I just like the way it feels in my hand.


Our dreams are voyages into our subconscious minds. We should listen to the messages we are given in dreams. They can be very healing.


I am strong enough to let him go and I do it with love.

Time After Time

Image via Wikipedia

One of the many things that I hate about ending relationships is losing the songs that go with them. I've always associated songs with different periods of my life. Certain music from the '80s can transport me right back to my military days. I often hear songs from the '70s that remind me of the carefree days of playing Barbies with my sister. I can actually see us on the patio with our Barbie campers on the picnic table, our two favorite Barbies having the pretend time of their lives, planning dates with Ken, cooking meals to share, and dressing in stylish outfits.

With music being so important in my life, it stands to reason that I associate songs, particularly romantic ones, with relationships. So what happens when the relationship ends? I can't stand to hear those songs anymore, which is almost as sad (sometimes even sadder) than letting go of the person I was in the relationship with.

At the moment, I can't listen to Cyndi Lauper and I've always loved her. "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." Damnit, how could he ruin that song for me? Do guys even like that song? I guess they do. Why should a song about girls having fun only belong to girls? And forget about "Time After Time." It was Randy's break-up song on "My Name is Earl," something we watched together. I refuse to have a break-up song. It's bad enough having relationship songs.

I made the mistake of telling my last boyfriend that I loved that song "Little Jeannie" by Elton John, as it reminded me of happy times in my childhood. So he bought me the record. Yes I said record. I realize that I'm dating myself by admitting that I still listen to records but there's something so romantic about listening to a song and hearing the faint scratch of the needle spinning the record. And just because he bought me a record doesn't mean that I had my last relationship twenty years ago. God knows where he found the record. Amazon, I think. I had just purchased a Crosley radio/record player/tape player and was enjoying listening to my many old 45s and 33s.

Fortunately, just as time heals all wounds, so too can it bring those songs back to me without the negative feelings stirring within me. "Little Jeannie" is still in my record player. Perhaps one day I'll be able to hear it and think of my childhood again, instead of the incredibly sweet gesture of a now ex-boyfriend. Or perhaps I'll just remember it as an incredibly sweet gesture of a now ex-boyfriend and not feel sad about it.

A New Frequency

Ever have one of those moments when you're going about your day, doing some mindless task or even at work, when suddenly a low humming starts in your ears? You can still hear what's going on around you but suddenly you feel as though you've switched to another frequency. I get those sometimes and, now that I realize I'm not about to have a seizure, I thoroughly enjoy them. There's a feeling of peace that washes over me. Everything that's going on around me suddenly takes a back seat and I'm reminded of those carefree moments as a child, when I wasn't plagued with so many thoughts. When I didn't worry about what the mirror reflected back to me. When I grew out of pants simply because I was growing up and not out. When I didn't worry about bills or troubled relationships or how my yard is quickly growing into a jungle.






Geneen Roth sums it up quite well in Women Food And God: "Can you remember a time, perhaps when you were very young, when life as it was--just the fact that it was early morning or any old day in summer--was enough? When you were enough--not because of what you looked like or what you did, but just because everything was the way it was. Nothing was wrong. When you were sad, you cried and then it was over. You were back to a fundamental feeling of positivity, of goodness just because you were alive. What if you could live that way now?"






What if? I find myself craving that simplicity often.






I begin this blog as I start my journey to find that centered peacefulness that comes with the humming. I'm at the start of a new health regimen and just ended an unhealthy relationship. Writing my thoughts out has always been therapeutic for me so even if no one reads this blog, it will serve its purpose. Readers would be nice though. I could use some support at the moment.