Today my friend passed away.
He was older. He was ready. I was not.
I feel so guilty because in the last few months I wan’t able to really visit him because of my own struggles. I kept thinking he would be fine until I felt better.
So I didn’t say goodbye.
Growing up I couldn’t cry. I would get in trouble. And if I cried loud, it would be even worse.
My mother would tell me how sad it made her when I cried. She would blame her depression on me.
When I was 10, my older cousin passed away. He was 17. I cried hard. My first real experience with death. On the way home from the funeral, my step-father said to if I didn’t stop the GD crying I was gonna get my ass beat when we got home.
When my parents found out about the abuse they told me to stop crying about it and just dont ever speak to him again. (That was helpful). My mom asked me why I was crying since I didn’t tell. And I must have liked it.
Consequently, I can only cry when I truly feel like dying. And my tears always come with shame. I cry and tell myself to get my act together. Act like an adult. Stop being a baby.
And what happens if I cry and can’t stop??
A good friend reminded me that even Jesus wept. And it was ok.
But Jesus wasn’t shamed for crying. So I must really be excessive right?
My self-talk is way out in left field tonight.
So, to combat the tears and sadness, I bake cookies. Cookies make everyone happy right?
So now I’m just babbling. And numbing. Hopefully I can get a few hours of sleep without nightmares.
I appreciate your love and support. Thanks for hanging in there with me.
Until next time – I am being MJ every day.