Today marks one year since my mom took her own life. Suffice it to say, today has consisted of a lot of thoughts, tears, deep breathing, and honestly, partly avoiding all of the above by listening to podcasts and driving aimlessly into New Hampshire.
While February 27, 2018 was the day she died, I didn't know until the 28th. Because of this slight difference, I have found to have a really weird relationship with this day. Ever since last year I've thought of it as my own version of the famous thought experiment by Schrodinger.
In case you're unaware of what this is, check out the wonderful world of Wikipedia here. It goes into much more detail than I could or, at the moment, have focus to do. Incredibly abridged version- a cat in a box can be both alive and dead at the same time, you don't know until you open the box and look.
While February 27, 2018 was the day she died, I didn't know until the 28th. Because of this slight difference, I have found to have a really weird relationship with this day. Ever since last year I've thought of it as my own version of the famous thought experiment by Schrodinger.
In case you're unaware of what this is, check out the wonderful world of Wikipedia here. It goes into much more detail than I could or, at the moment, have focus to do. Incredibly abridged version- a cat in a box can be both alive and dead at the same time, you don't know until you open the box and look.
It may seem a weird way to look at it, but it seems to resonate with me. In reality, if we take a step back, everything could fall into this in it's own way. Someone (or thing) you aren't currently interacting with easily falls into you don't know whether they are or aren't. It is or isn't. We just tend to assume that things are as you left them.
I knew things weren't great, I also never thought the reality that was could be that; reality.
While it's waned a bit, over the past year (seriously, has it really been a year?) I've had a general sense of unease. Partly due to the wonderful (ha) thing that is grief, but partly due to the experience of thinking and living in a world where my mom was still living, when, in fact, she was not. Sure, this lasted one day, but that alone has really shaken my way of seeing things. I'm almost always "waiting for the other shoe to drop," or wondering "what if" or "what's really happening?" I gotta say, that's damn tiring and stressful.
Looking back, all I can think is if I had only kept the effing box open then I would've known. Not that I think I could've changed things, but the "what if" is strong in thinking had that box remained open, there wouldn't even be the chance or need to ask the question.
Looking back, all I can think is if I had only kept the effing box open then I would've known. Not that I think I could've changed things, but the "what if" is strong in thinking had that box remained open, there wouldn't even be the chance or need to ask the question.
