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A Piece That Comes Back To Haunt Me
Dec. 18th, 2009 08:54 pmI found a lump. A lot of women find lumps. I'm sure it's probably just a lump. Nothing to worry about. But as I stood in the shower this morning I was overcome with memories. My mother fighting cancer for so many years. It was the total focus of our lives for so long.
I have very distinctive memory problems. I suppress so many, many things. I've gotten so good at it that I can suppress something that happened last week at work and when my boss asks me about it, I have to have some time to think of what she's talking about. I usually have a flip and logical answer for her at the time but I frequently need a few hours to get into my mind and think.
As I took my shower, I was awash in a wave of memories. Hospital rooms, waiting rooms, IV stands, doctors, nurses, nurses aides, friends of my mother's, priests, quacks, lawyers and in the end...getting that phone call that I should come. I didn't make it in time.
And as I stood in that shower, I realized that the things I suppress so easily really do affect me. My emotional state is all tied into the memories that I am trying to piece together.
My mother's disease and death really did scar me, even though I never think it does.
So, welcome to my journal. I call it A Pieced Together Life because I am trying to piece together the memories that are trapped. Awful, brutal memories and sweet, soulful memories...I will piece them together one at a time until I am a whole human again. Because I am not whole...I'm laying in pieces and I'm tired of it.
I have very distinctive memory problems. I suppress so many, many things. I've gotten so good at it that I can suppress something that happened last week at work and when my boss asks me about it, I have to have some time to think of what she's talking about. I usually have a flip and logical answer for her at the time but I frequently need a few hours to get into my mind and think.
As I took my shower, I was awash in a wave of memories. Hospital rooms, waiting rooms, IV stands, doctors, nurses, nurses aides, friends of my mother's, priests, quacks, lawyers and in the end...getting that phone call that I should come. I didn't make it in time.
And as I stood in that shower, I realized that the things I suppress so easily really do affect me. My emotional state is all tied into the memories that I am trying to piece together.
My mother's disease and death really did scar me, even though I never think it does.
So, welcome to my journal. I call it A Pieced Together Life because I am trying to piece together the memories that are trapped. Awful, brutal memories and sweet, soulful memories...I will piece them together one at a time until I am a whole human again. Because I am not whole...I'm laying in pieces and I'm tired of it.
