Mother’s Day Hangover

Another crash out in Atlanta traffic. The gasket has blown. I wanna flee the city. It’s not working, because I see the skyline. Two more months. I’m writing this on Mother’s Day. I feel like I should’ve taken a Vyvanse. I've been self-destructing like Chiaotzu. My compulsions for anything to ease my anguish. I need something to take the pain away. But my medication would turn my emotions to a dull roar, allowing me some space between this existential pain. My emotions are running rampant and I still feel hollow. What grief has been bestowed upon me…

Yesterday I went to mom’s, grandma’s, and grandpa’s graves. They’re all buried in the Garden of Meditation. I had a chic-fil-a biscuit while I talked with them. I apologized to Grandpa, I realize now how he was one of the few protectors we had. I told grandma she’s silly. I dream of her being goofy and colorful a lot. And with mom. I talked to her about all my woes and my whole life as it is. I cried hard. Telling her I’ll never get over losing her so young. The scar is too deep to forget. I cried harder. As I cried I felt them closer to me. The pain that comes with remembrance… what followed was love’s embrace. It was relieving for the day. I felt at peace.

Today I am again in misery. Lashing out. Hypervigilant. Depressed. Inconsolable. Insatiable. Feeling despair, darkness, and danger. I can’t cope. It’s stronger than I know how to be. And accepting there are things stronger than my will and belief is daunting. I need humility to feel and accept such complex ponderings. It’s not all bad. But I know I have a hangover from the good.