Bear with me a moment...

[labelleizzy]

I'm about to employ a rather ... gross... metaphor.
Maybe I'm the only one who experienced this during my teenage years, but I doubt it.
There have been a few truly memorable skin eruptions during my period of puberty... one in particular I'm recalling, analagous to my current emotional state.

I remember when I was having constant oily skin around my nose and between my eyebrows, and I remember a particularly awful and painful eruption or infection in the right groove next to my nose, that lasted literally for weeks.

I remember I would fuss at it, could feel that there was something there under the surface, but couldn't do much about it, short of keeping the place clean, and to try to squeeze the ugly fucker from time to time. All I ever got for my troubles was oil, for a long time.

It would fucking half-heal, then I'd fuss with it because it was really itchy and/or hurt, maybe peel off a half-formed scab,, clean it off and maybe squeeze it again, hoping that NOW would be the time the damn thing would finally heal and stop embarrassing me and just be DONE. Nothing fixed it for a very long time, which is part of why it is memorable. It was ugly and unhealable and was just going to take its own sweet goddam time to heal whenever it was fucking ready.

So one time, after weeks and (it feels like MANY weeks) of this thing oozing and ouching and being red and crusty and sore and right there in front of everybody (not like you could miss it, right next to my NOSE in the middle of my face), finally I peeled off a layer of scab, and doing that felt like scratching something just right when it was itchy, satisfying-like? and finally I went to SQUEEZE that motherfucker after satisfying the itchiness (and no, I no longer refer to parts of my body in that derogatory way, but like I said, bear with me a moment) and finally, FINALLY, my eyes watered and something went *pop* under the skin and there was this GINORMOUS amount of hard pus, like almost a third as wide as my pinky fingertip (which is huge for a single pore of course) and half as long as my pinky fingernail.

And there was this TREMENDOUS feeling of relief. FINALLY, finally, this crusty scabby oily ugly painful part of me would have a chance to heal, and I could stop fussing with it.

...

The metaphor is for how I feel today after attending even the least part of Walt's memorial. I feel like I have ripped off another layer of scab to discover that the suppurating wound is still there, still oozing, still far from ready-to-heal... Of course Scotty's name came up, Vicki and Walt's middle daughter Becky was incredibly close to Scott, and was even there with him the day before he died...then when I went to have dinner at mom's we were talking about him and mom had another batch of photos of Scotty which his wife (still have trouble saying widow), Scotty with Aubrey in over a dozen photos, Scotty with Sarah and Aubrey, (none with just him and Sarah, I expect those are too damn painful for Sarah to deal with even still)... and I just ... lost it.
Red wine didn't help the self-control thing, not that I cared.

So now I am left to wonder, how many damn layers of crusty scab to I have to cleanse and fuss with and peel away painfully till I can finally lance this boil, squeeze this pimple, abrade this injury, or whatever I need to do, to where it can stop hurting so much and let me rest... I know it's only 9 months, I know I can't expect a "rational" or "reasonable" timeline for emotional healing after a part of me has been ripped away; I know these things work in cycles, spirals, levels and layers...

but fuck, I am tired of feeling so raw so often and so easily. I just wish I could be DONE now... not that I want to forget Scotty, I am just tired of hurting all around all the memories of him and how he's gone.

He should have been there today. He would have known what to say to Becky and Rachel... I hope they manage to scan the childhood photos of all of us, I would love to see the photos with Scott in them.

I'm going to bed. I don't wanna go to work tomorrow, but I'm gonna try.

Comments

[satyrlovesong.livejournal.com]

I love you.

[labelleizzy.livejournal.com]

you know what's even worse? Last week I read an introductory letter I wrote to my students at the beginning of the school year 2 years ago, and I talked about my family in Sacramento, but didn't mention Scott at all. *cries* that's how little we were in one another's lives.

[dangerpudding.livejournal.com]

As always, feel free to ignore me. And I think you know to take what resonates and leave the rest. I can speak only from my own experience. There is no way to compare grief, there is no reason to compete around it. Your grief is your own, I just hope to share some of the hope I found over time.

It took (is taking) me what felt like forever. Dad's been gone for just over 3 years now, and I more often take joy in the memories than pain. But, still, I have the moments where I crumple, where I miss him with a pain like nothing else I know, where I want to fall over or hide or sit down in the middle of the sidewalk and cry.

The first therapist I had after his death used the analogy that grief is like tides and waves - it carries you in and out, sometimes you get to sit on the beach, sometimes you're in the undertow and can't catch your breath. Eventually you gain strength and start swimming more often than not. But this is the natural process, this is 'normal' - as normal as grief can be, as normal as any emotion can be. For what it's worth, I hated this analogy at the time, because it felt so powerless to me. Now, I accept that I was (and am) fairly powerless over this.

One of the things that comforted me early one was this entry of wordweaverlynn's. I bought lots of books, hoping that one of them would have something useful to say. Some of those written for children, tweens, and teens helped. Few of those for adults. Few overall - but if you want to come look at the stacks, you're welcome to.

I wish you peace and comfort, and am thankful that you had and have the love of such a wonderful person. I hope that you have people to hold you and comfort you as these moments hit.

[temperance14.livejournal.com]

The problem I found---and still find---is the "control thing"

I know we can't grieve all the time in public. We try to keep our emotions tidy for others, and under control so we can get on with our lives.

But, we schedule so much "tidy time" we don't have much grief time.
You need time to get away from others and just cry. Grieve. Just feel what ever emotions come up, without feeling the need to apologize or explain to others.

Just feel. You need to schedule time away from others, or with others who can deal with your emotions.

You need unstructured, "unanswerable" release time of all you Scotty emotions. And not just once.

[jmkelly.livejournal.com]

In my experience, it's like an amputation -- the stump heals, the pain becomes manageable, and you learn to live without the missing part, more or less -- you never stop missing it, but the pain fades to a level you can live with.

Hugs from here.

[whalejudge.livejournal.com]

Hugs.

[magnificentmndi.livejournal.com]

Sweetie, I don't have any advice to share. Just love. Take it easy on yourself. Oh yeah, tell people who say "Time heals all wounds" to go fuck themselves. THAT might make you feel better.

[labelleizzy.livejournal.com]

weak, lame chuckle follows that.
you're right. I haven't had anyone say anything that trite, but yeah, I think that would prolly make me feel better.

Today I'm wishing I was a plate-smashing screaming harridan of a woman, incoherently flailing as someone tried to restrain me from socking the hell out of someone who RICHLY deserves it...

I'm going to go eat something and hope I feel better in a few.

[agengrgal.livejournal.com]

*hug*

[labelleizzy.livejournal.com]

thank you.

[thats-ms-dragon.livejournal.com]

Put in a sappy movie and watch it. Give yourself permission to cry. Love yourself. Realize how many people love you and care about your family because we love you. Just take care of yourself and know that we are here for you.

*hugs*

[labelleizzy.livejournal.com]

thanks, hon.
I even have a sappy movie.

[mactavish.livejournal.com]

That sounds absolutely apt. Some things, emotional and otherwise, really are stuck that hard. :/

My sister just forwarded me a letter she wrote to our siblings about long-ago issues, and it reminded me of how differently each of us related to each other -- six, all together. Her experience was very different from mine. After our eldest sister died, our responses were very different, too, and none of us could completely help the other.