The Thirteenth Year

2021-05-172021-05-18 Miss Poison My Mother, Writing Emotional Pain, Honor, In Memoriam, May, Mourning, My Mother, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Suffering, Trauma, Writing

May. The month of darkness. The month of flashbacks, nightmares, anger at being robbed of loved ones… It’s hell. I suffer silently; no one is particularly interested in what I have to say. I remind myself it isn’t personal, some people simply aren’t full-fledged human beings. C’est la vie.

Thirteen years ago tonight, my mother’s heart gave out. I got the phone call, “We’re trying to revive her, but…” The BUT was my mother’s DNR; a point of contention between us for years. I had power of attorney and I remember saying, “Screw the DNR. If she can be revived, you save her life.” An hour later and I knew. I remember looking at the clock, in pure silence, and knowing the exact moment when she left. When I received her death certificate, the time was not a shock, but it jolted me. My life was permanently altered. I feel like I’ve lived a nightmare almost every day since.

One of the most important messages my mother instilled in me was to ALWAYS be honest and speak up for my beliefs. I am not a passive, gullible, peace-keeper; I was built for war and educated argument. My mother knew, before I was born, that I was strong and a force to be reckoned with. That’s the kind of daughter she wanted; one who would always speak her mind, one who would not pretend, and one who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, because she’d know her worth and would not be afraid of walking into rooms and being a strong, powerful, determined individual. I suspect she got what she ordered. 😉

My parents taught my brother and I to focus on facts, and to know when we were being lied to. Not everyone is blessed with intuitive education. I was not taught to hate. I am an intuitive person with a mind which pays attention to details others might miss. Micro-aggressions, body language, any shift in behavior or verbal tone is something I will notice. I am grateful for these things, because I know other parents weren’t teaching such things, and because much of this knowledge has saved my life in many situations.

My mother was the best. I was blessed with someone truly devoted to her children, imperfections aside, because NO ONE is perfect. We’re all human.

I miss you. There are no words for the amount of pain I am still trying to work through. Time does not heal a damn thing. Not in this situation.

Everything

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Suffering Silently

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Borotʹba i strazhdannya bez tebe, mamo. My sumuyemo za toboyu. My lyubymo tebe. Dyakuyu za blahoslovennya, yaki vy nam nadislaly.

A Decade

2018-05-172018-05-17 Miss Poison My Mother, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing A Decade, Emotional Pain, Honesty, Loss, Love, May, My Mother, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing

If I added up the minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years I have spent missing my mother, I am pretty sure it would be an astronomical number. All those moments have brought me to this day; the tenth anniversary. A decade without my mother. It makes me sick to my stomach, putting the words out there into the universe.

My life has changed in such dramatic ways since I hung up the phone for the final time the night she passed away. No matter far I have come, no matter how much growth I have achieved, no matter the rises and falls, I am still gutted by every moment that led to her death.

The people who loved me the most are all gone. I live in a world where no one mentions my mother. No one talks about her, no one acknowledges that she even existed, and it deeply affects me.

I remember when she was alive and people would often accuse her of being “too emotional”. I don’t think people, especially now, are emotional enough. I don’t think people are anywhere near as human, kind, caring, or compassionate as my mother was. Occasionally I catch myself looking for those qualities in others, and I find people sorely lacking. Perhaps this is why I am more introverted and isolated than ever before.

I am by no means searching for a “mother figure” or “mother replacement” because those are simply things that do not exist for me. No one else could ever be her. I can hear my father’s voice whenever I speak to my brother, but my mother’s voice has grown distant and foreign, and for me, that is very sad indeed.

I’m never not going to be disgusted to have someone, be it a family member or a friends, act like today is “just another day”. Today is the day I lost my mother, my best friend, and my guidepost. As imperfect as I am, I will never be the kind, caring, loving person my mother was to her children and other people. I have learned to accept that.

Lighting Yarhzeit tonight was difficult and highly emotional, but I did it. I’m doing my best. My Mom always told me “Your best is all you can ever do, and if people don’t like it, at least you know you didn’t sit around ignoring a situation.”

I’m a writer because of my mother. She introduced me to power through my voice, and that’s something that will never change. Nor will my commitment and devotion to her memory.

“Seek the sweet surrender of simplicity. Listen to the sound of faith like a flute playing inside your chest. Go within. Serenity lives always within your reach.”
-Ching Qu Lam

For The Mother Who Made Life Easier

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Dlya materi, yakyy zrobyv zhyttya prostishe…

purple-roses

My lyubymo i sumuyu za toboyu kozhen denʹ

Eight Years

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Eight years ago tonight, I got a phone call that changed my life. It wasn’t one of those life-changing “oh, how fabulous” calls, either. It was the kind of call that brings you to your knees. Somehow, I was able to remain upright and forge ahead. By the Grace Of G-d, apparently.

Every day since, I have fought to get pieces of me back. It’s not easy, it will continue to be a battle, but I’m trying.

Today, trying was not an option. Today nearly broke me. I’ve never felt more alone in my entire life.

The reason I am a creative, intelligent, dazzling creature is because my mother willed it into being. It’s how she taught, loved, shared, and dreamed. I didn’t get to live the life she wanted for me, one superior to her own early life, but I’m not afraid to follow my dreams and live outside the box, even when it is scary as hell. I will never stop wishing she was here, because life without her has been difficult beyond words.

If you’re lucky enough to have parents that are still alive, and yes, I’ve lost both of mine, then please, treat them right. Even if they drive you insane, treat them right. For when they are gone, the truly difficult part begins. There’s no true end to grief, you just put one foot in front of the other and attempt to survive.

Tsentr budet derzhat’, mama. Tsentr budet derzhat’. Pokoysya s mirom.

Dlya Moyey Mamochka (For My Mother)

2016-02-24 Miss Poison Images/Photos/Quotes, My Mother, Pieces Of Me Images/Photos/Quotes, My Mother, Pieces Of Me

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I miss you so much. Today, words fail and tears fall.

I’m safe, but I am not okay. Please look after my brother and know that love & prayers are being sent your way.

Ya lyublyu tebya. XO.

Mother & Daughter

2015-05-17 Miss Poison Adult Orphans, In Memory, Motherless Daughters, My Mother, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Relationships, Strength, Writing Best Friends, Friendship, Honesty, In Memory, My Mother, Poison In Lethal Doses, Relationships, Writing

First friend; best friend.

The reason I am who I am.

The person who encouraged me never to follow, but always to lead.

Guide-post. Lighthouse. Anchor.

Part angel, part saint.

The best listener.

Could always see the best in me, even when I didn’t believe there was any.

Teacher of so much.

Giver of books, music, art, culture, and life.

Laughter ’til we cried.

Taught me, in part, how to be a mother with a very simple gift.

Saw my talents clearer than anyone else.

Hated it when friends disappointed, lied, and hurt me. Enraged when men did the same.

Was always in awe of my strength.

Was not afraid to lean on me and allow me to be strong when she was not.

My first audience.

Lover of sunsets, rainbows, lilacs, and cats.

Honesty, Integrity, Loyalty, Love, Friendship.

You thought I was the blessing, but I know with certainty that I was blessed to have you as my mother.

You worked two jobs, took care of your children, and never once looked back. That is immense heroism.

Small aspects of who you are and what you mean to me.

Words fail…

I learned from my mother, but I also taught her in kind. Our relationship was one of kindred spirits. I’m strong and fierce because she was not able to be that kind of woman, having been raised differently. She encouraged my voice because she often felt she did not have one that others would listen to. She is the reason I am a supremely confident writer.

Days like today are very hard. They are made easier when one can honor their loved one, in their own attempt to heal. Truth be told, I don’t think one can ever repair the hole inside my heart at such a devastating loss, but I’m trying.

“Serenity is yours.
When chaos looms seek the sweet
Surrender of simplicity.
Gaze above at the glassy sky,
Feel each blade of green
Beneath your feet,
Listen to the sound of faith
Like a reed flute playing
Inside your chest.
Breathe.
Stand in witness of
Your true nature.
Remember the compassion
Of the lover’s eyes,
The calm wisdom of
The elder’s voice.
Go within. Be at rest without.
Fall to your knees in gratitude.
You have all you need.
Turn from the riot of distraction.
Let it roll over and beyond you.
Serenity is yours.
It lives always within your reach.”