Today has been all over the place and it’s past one in the morning so I’m ridiculously tired and I still have to shower so I’m not looking to get to sleep anytime soon, but I want to write, so here I am in front of the computer not adulting.
I went to three classes at the dojo today. Jujitsu at 6am, Muay Thai at 7pm. Then submission grappling at 8pm.
Today was the first day since I got the urn pendant that I had to take it off. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I didn’t question who I was or feel like a part of my soul was being ripped away. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, though. It’s like when I took mom’s ring off the first time when I started boxing. I knew I had to take it off or else her ring would get messed up. It still sucked because I didn’t want to be apart from it.
I turned taking her ring off into a bit of a ritual, like getting into the proper headspace before a game or performance. When the ring came off I was training. I was making myself better. I was taking it off to protect it.
I know I’ll get to that mentality with the necklace. It still sucked doing it, though. There were silent tears as I unclasped the hook and held the pendant in my hands since the first time I got it. The first times are always the hardest. Hopefully, that means it will be easier next time.
I most likely haven’t drunk enough water to make up for all of the sweat and tears today, because the pendant tears weren’t the only ones.
I unpacked mom’s china today when I got back from jujitsu. I didn’t inherit much from mom. Her ring. Her china hutch, which my grandfather made. And her china set.
I’ve left the china hutch wrapped in the furniture covers, tape across the doors, since I moved into the townhome. I knew it was something I would have to eventually get around to. I knew I would have to face those emotions at some point. I guess “eventually” was today.
It felt like I was pulling the tape off of myself. The sound of it coming free from the wood. The tension as I pulled it up. I could feel that ripping sensation across my heart.
By unpacking the hutch it became mine. Every cup, every plate became mine as I sat on the floor unwrapping it from the newspaper I had used while in Vegas. I cried. I cried so much.
It hurt, but it wasn’t anger or loss that made me cry. It’s happened a few times. Maybe more than I’m remembering. Sometimes I realize something, have some thought, make some connection, and I cry. It’s like I’m adjusting to the new information and it’s overwhelming, or powerful, or heavy, or whatever it is other than sad and angry. It’s so much of something that all I can do is cry.
I cried until Warren came downstairs. He asked if I was ok. I said no, rubbing the tears away. I didn’t want to talk so we left it at that. He took Bruno outside then made his breakfast. I set the china in the hutch, displaying each plate the way I wanted it, detaching myself so the emotions could stay in check. Warren eventually went back upstairs. I set mom’s urn as the centerpiece.
I then curled up on the couch with the cardboard priority mail box she sent me for Christmas last year, the one I kept because I thought it would be my last gift from her, and I proceeded to cry more. Every card she ever sent me after I moved out is in that box. The book from her service, the one so many people signed is in there as well. The letter she left for me was there and maybe it’s because I’m an emotional masochist that I read it again. Maybe I needed to hear her voice in my head. Maybe I just needed a reminder that she loved me and things would be ok.
Whatever the reason I cried until I had nothing left to give. I stayed on the couch with no intention to move for a while.
My brother ended up calling me which is the only reason I got up. As soon as I answered the phone he asked what was wrong because of course he’s one of the few people who can instantly pick up on stuff like that. So much lame. >.<
I told him I had unpacked the china and that it had been hard. He asked if he needed to come be with me. I said no, that I would be ok. I had to be ok. It’s not like I have an option to not be.
We ironed out the last of the Thanksgiving plans, said our “I love you”s and hung up. Since I had walked up the stairs to my room while on the phone I decided that I had earned a nap due to emotional and physical tiredness. So I napped for about two hours. Bruno actually came into my room and curled up with me. I’m not normally one for dogs, but having his company was nice.
Once I woke up I decided to continue working through the to-do list I had made, which unpacking the hutch had not been part of the game plan. Just want to toss that fact in…
I wanted to do errands before going back to the dojo. I knew staying at home would just make me feel like a slacker. So instead of feeding into the sadness I loaded up my car and went to do errands. I donated more stuff. I did the Thanksgiving shopping, which was a nightmare of people standing in the middle of the isle not getting out of the way. I also stopped by the storage unit to get my gi so I can wear it to the jujitsu classes.
I saw Nicole after going to the dojo. It was nice to see her. I told her about my day, and about how it had been hard. She told me about her own hard experience with wrapping Christmas gifts at her kitchen table, something she used to do with her own mom. Another mom who isn’t here anymore.
Other things happened during the day but I’m so tired right now that I don’t feel like writing more and that shower I know I should take most likely won’t happen until I wake up.
Right now I’m done. I don’t know what today was. It wasn’t bad. I don’t want to label it good either. It was long. Let’s go with that. Today was a long day, and now it’s over and I’m going to go to sleep.