What You Don't See

As I'm sure I've mentioned in other posts (and yes, I'm too lazy to go back and review to see if I have or not), there are a number of thoughts/subjects I'm going to address, but tonight I wanted to take a minute to touch on something that is one of the more prominent. I was prompted by the fact that while I was writing in my journal, the tears were flowing quite freely and it made me think of this-

"You're so strong."

In the past seven months (or more specifically, seven months and 8 days, but who's counting...) I've had this said to me a lot. My response is generally the same; a thank you, or a shrug and a I-don't-have-a-fucking-clue-what-to-say smirk, or my personal favorite go-to; saying something that diverts the attention from me. Why? Because for one, I have no clue what on earth you're supposed to say in that situation. And two (the more correct and honest answer), I don't feel I am. I'm simply doing what needs to be done. 

Arrangements made, people notified, items to be sorted through and decided whether they be kept/donated/tossed/sold/etc. And life has to continue on without them. Seeing as our family was just three of us, that meant these tasks were all to be handled by one or the other of us. And honestly, my dad had been through enough, so at the very least I could help with all of this.

I realize that may come across as callous or uncaring. Believe me, lack of care is not something that exists for me. But I guess part of it is, nothing is going to change the fact my mom is dead. Keeping her clothes and unfinished craft projects won't bring her back. And it pained me to think of my dad in the house, surrounded by things he simply had no use for, and it being much too large a task for him to take on alone, so we simply did what had to be done. 

Another reason the idea of being called "strong" is hard for me to swallow is because you see me continuing on in a somewhat normal fashion. I finished the show I was in when she died. Then I followed it up by doing another one, continued teaching, and doing the other various gigs I have. Still smiling, singing, dancing, blowing things up, and just keeping on per usual. 

But there's a lot you don't see. You don't see all the tears. From hearing a random song. Seeing an old woman in a store and being struck by the thought I don't get to see my mom grow old. Realizing just how many special dates fall from October through December. Being terrified of facing a similar fate. You don't see the talking to myself, trying to get a grip before going and doing a show, and then completely falling apart once getting in the car to go home again. Or the frustration with myself because my brain is still in a foggy state and it takes a hell of a lot more effort to be the self I've gotten used to and that others expect. Or the many, many, MANY conflicting emotions and thoughts that, until now, I've never had to face.

So while yes, I will graciously accept the compliment of being told "you're strong" or some iteration of the sort, but if you ask me, I don't feel that I am. I'm just doing what needs to be done.