While walking to work today, I let my mind go there. I let my mind wander to where I never let it visit, and it was all still right there. It was still waiting. I always think that I have processed through all of it, but that never seems to be the case. The truth is, I've barely touched it. It's too overwhelming to even think about. The very second I let my brain travel to that place, I can feel panic bubble up inside of me, and my breathing immediately becomes erratic, my eyes darting everywhere looking for something to hold onto. I squelch it as quickly as possible, take a deep breath, slam that door shut and run.

From where I am now, I know God is there completely and he and I should be able to handle this. God has told me repeatedly that I need to feel the pain so that I can process the pain. You can't handle what you ignore, and things like this need to be handled.

The ultimate downside, is that since I have put it off for so long, to most people it all seems to have lost its relevance. It was years ago, right? Yes, it was years ago. I have found great joy in so many things lately, and so my irrational fear is that actually dealing with the past will eliminate that joy.

My Mom loved to talk. She had a warning about everything. Some things made more sense than others. She cautioned me about buying anything full price, she made sure I knew the value of housework, she limited my food intake...but then there were some very good lessons, the biggest of these was to constantly be mindful of whether or not you are giving the devil a foothold.

For awhile I thought that God was the one who was preventing me from revisiting those dangerous memories. I got the impression that no good could come from it,  and in order to experience true healing, I would have to adopt the mentality that it had never happened. That way, I could move on. I could forgive. I could let go of all of the hurt, anger and resentment. That belief has changed recently. I have been spending so much time with Jesus lately, and I am feeling a stronger and stronger push to open that door. It's terrifying.

I talked to my Dad about it one time several weeks ago. It's such a daunting idea to go back there. There are so many things crammed behind that door. I wanted to open it and talk to my Dad, but he was too ready to agree that it should remain closed. I began trying to share a memory or two, and Dad cut me off, stating simply "I know what you mean. If I were to ever open that door, I would start screaming and I would never stop." It's moments like those when I feel like I can't talk to anyone. There's always something else going on that they need to concentrate on. Everyone has pain, and who am I to think that my pain merits their attention? I'm so much better at caring for others and helping them. I'll just keep helping them. So, instead of opening up to Dad, I let him talk. "Why do you say that? How are you now? I love you so much. I'll be here for you." he cries, he thanks me, I remain the steadfast, the strong, the dependable. I don't cry. Not anymore.

I know the ultimate comforter is God. I know Jesus is holding me constantly. But God wouldn't have instilled a need for human love and companionship if he didn't desire those connections for us. He wants us to love, lean on, and fellowship with each other. This is why there are friendships and marriages. Yes, God is with us ALL the time, but he also wants us to be with each other. Where two or more are gathered...

The other day, Nikki came to my house in tears. Her fiance had just departed for Nepal, and they don't know when they will be able to speak again. He will be gone until next year. I held her, and my immediate thoughts were how honored I was that she had picked me to cry to. She had trusted me enough to fall apart in my arms, and she knew that I would comfort her and do whatever I could to make her feel better. I would read her scripture and crack jokes and hold her. She knew I would do that for her. She knows I love her. The best part, is that I have the honor of fulfilling that role for all of the loves in my life. The problem, however, is that I have no one to go to when I need to be held, comforted and reassured.

There are several people who would start quite the argument after that statement. What they don't realize, of course, is that they would be contending with a multitude of evidence to the contrary. There were ten years of constant distance. The worst things in my life were happening when life was just starting out for everyone I cared about. The endless strings of conflicting thoughts and emotions took immediate control of my thoughts, my speech, my actions. I was barely a person.

I'm not ready to talk about everything that happened when she was dying. I'm not ready to go there. Even skimming the surface of those memories has my chest in pain. I was talking to BJ recently and made a reference to how certain memories have haunted me, and he immediately squashed that statement. He reminded me to focus on the good. When I told him about how my Mom's eyes opened for the first time in two days right before she died, and then my hand was over her heart when it stopped beating... I said that haunts me. I don't mean haunt in a bad way. I mean it's something that will stay with me forever. Yes, I got to look into her eyes one last time. Nobody else did. I was alone there. Yes, I got to feel her leave and go to Heaven. But I also had to feel my Mama's heart stop. How can you only focus on the good when it's so breathtakingly sad that she's not here with me?

I am given many platitudes about how my Mom is always with me. She's in my heart. She didn't leave me, etc etc etc. Regardless of whether or not those statements are true, we're not watching sitcom reruns in her room eating mashed potatoes at midnight. She's not stealing apples from the apple orchard trees and stuffing them in my purse. *I have to stop the memories. I'm at work and this is too hard*

There were two friends who came to the hospital. Christine Morrison, who adopted me as her own child, and Jessi Campbell. Several of Kelly and Sunnie's friends came. I know everyone was busy, I know grades and careers were on the line. But I also know that I was in more pain than I can even comprehend.

The funeral. Those same two friends were there. That was it. I kept looking at the door, and I couldn't figure it out. I had been an amazing friend to everyone I knew. At least I thought I had. There's a reason that so many people trusted me to hold them, comfort them, love them. Why weren't they there to hold me? Why was I alone? I found out later that my boss at Caribou had told the entire staff that if any of them (I was good friends with the entire staff) wanted to attend the funeral to support me, he would get coverage from other stores. None of them came. They didn't want to lose their hours or tips. One of my best friends, Ellie, two years later said "In retrospect, I probably should have been there for you." Yes. You probably should have.

Several weeks after the funeral, we had a bridal shower for Sunnie. Nikki was coming. Nikki has always been one of the busiest people I know. She hadn't been able to come to the funeral, as she was very busy in school. I don't mean to downplay this. I understand and embrace the situation she was in, but my heart can't let it go. She should have been there.

As we walked up the driveway to the friends house where the shower was being held, Sunnie's mother-in-law to be pulled me aside and lectured me. "You don't look happy, and I need you to get over it and be happy for your sister. She is getting married and her Mom just died. She is really going through a hard time and we need to make these next few weeks all about her, okay?" I'm not sure how, but everyone that I was seeing on a consistent basis had come to the conclusion that I was not the least bit upset over the fact that my Mom had died. They waved away the fact that I had been her solitary caretaker and companion for the past four years.

I was placing too much emphasis on the fact that Nikki was actually going to be there. I had been storing up all my tears to cry to her like she had always cried to me. I hadn't cried at the funeral, because I had to make sure that everyone else was okay. I hugged who needed hugging, I made jokes to those who looked too sad. I would fall apart later. She would come to town, she would hold me, and she would say "It's okay to cry Corrie."

We walked into the shower, and I plastered that fake smile on my face. I watched people hug Sunnie, ask her how she was doing. I would watch them hold her when she teared up, and tell her that they loved her. I knew all of those people. They were my friends. Why were they ignoring me? I knew it was her bridal shower, but couldn't they love and support me too?

Nikki arrived. We hugged. She hugged Sunnie, and they all congregated again and asked the same questions. They were standing in a circle, and I was outside of it. All I can remember after that is the panic. The panic brought on by Nikki announcing how busy she was that weekend and that she was so glad she had the time to come to the shower. She had a family gathering directly following the so-called festivities, and my heart broke and shattered into a million pieces. She forgot to remember me. I must have done something wrong. She knew what had happened. She couldn't be there, no. But she was here now. But she couldn't be there for me. She was there for her. It wasn't my time yet. I had to push it away. Relief was almost there, but I had to say no. I left. I started walking. I was shaking. I called my brother, he came and picked me up. He didn't ask me questions, and I didn't cry. I felt like throwing up. He took me home, and I stayed there alone.

Nikki and I exchanged emails, but instead of anything getting better, it turned into an argument that later transformed into walls and distance that would take almost three years to break down. I don't know if it's gone yet though, because I still can't tell her everything. I still can't get past the anger. I can't understand why she didn't think of my needing her. I had heard so many stories of all of her college friends who had gone through horrible things and she would take care of them. "I'll call you tomorrow, or next week sometime. My roommate is having a panic attack and she needs me..." Years later a lot of those misunderstandings would dissolve into complete irrelevance, but I was so confused then. I need you too, I would think.

Her friend's Dad died in Texas. She went to the funeral. I know I KNOW exactly why she couldn't be here for Mom's. She knew my Mom for ten years, and she should have been there, but realistically could not be. I get so mad at my brain when it dwells on things that neither of us had control over.

It's not just Nikki either. It's everyone. When my Mom first got sick, everyone scattered. I'm happy to say I think I'm over that time period. We were all so young. Fifteen and sixteen years old. I remember how my brain worked before she got sick, so I'm aware of their thought processes. I know that if anyone had a real problem, I would instantly transform my teenage angst into something that would be more worthy of attention. Drama creation, after all, is a skill that nearly every single female teenager thrives at.

This is the part that drives me nuts. Nikki had been a part of that group of kids who couldn't handle it. Why did I throw so much need and expectation onto her then? Why did I insist that she was the only person I could have talked to? Because she wasn't in this world with me, that's why. She was my link to the outside. She was traveling and meeting the best friends she would ever have, and I wanted her to take me with her. I wanted to matter so much to her, so that she would hold onto me, and not leave me at the bottom of the well. I was so jealous of her new friends. I viewed them as my replacements, and automatically assumed she was better off. They were so much better than me because they wouldn't be bringing her down with dying parents and depression. They would travel with her and post pictures of beautiful smiles. They would distract her from my melancholy and take her away forever. I would have given anything to have been a friend someone met at college.

Those years where people meet the friends they'll have for the rest of their lives, I was doing something no person my age should be doing. I saw and lived through one horrific thing after another. I didn't know how to handle it. I ended relationships that I never should have ended. Why? To spare them. Sounded poetic, I suppose. Sacrifice myself for the sake of others. Then what did I do? Complain that they left me? Right. Makes sense.

Recently I have been "off". This has happened more times than I can count. When sadness grabs me, I usually withdraw for several days, regroup and deal with it, then reappear. I'm not used to people noticing. I've been blessed with a close knit network just within the last two months. How amazing is that? People I touch base with nearly every day, and they actually notice when something is wrong. I'm not used to this at all. I'm not used to people worrying about me. I'm not used to it, because when I was really obvious about things being wrong and needing people, nothing happened. So backwards.

There wasn't one specific thing that made me sad. I've been sick for a long time, so I think being over tired has made me over emotional. It's when you're weak when it happens. It's what my Mom had always warned me about, giving the devil a foothold. He has grabbed the loophole and ran with it, and it's taken a lot out of me. I'm exhausted.

Nikki's fiance left, and she is beside herself about it. She cries, and I find myself thinking... you almost know what it feels like to miss someone that deeply. You're feeling it. I want to cry with her, but then I think... he's coming back. You will get him back. She's not coming back to me. Then I feel resentful. Then I get angry. Not with Nikki, no...with myself. That's not fair, Corrie. This is different. That's not fair.

Jerry is gone, and so I tell her I have all the time in the world to be there for her. My Mom died and nobody had that time. I get upset over the facts, then upset that I'm upset. So, I hide until I can rationalize myself into understanding that I'm being ridiculous. But am I? I am honored that people tell me about their problems. It's just too hard to not draw the comparisons sometimes.

I don't want to be my sister. I don't know how to tell people what's bothering me without sounding like my sister. Whenever a friend would come to her with a problem, she turned it into something about herself instead. "Well, at least your Mom didn't die of cancer..." Really??? That's terrible. But how can I relate to people when my worst thing is so much worse than their worst thing? There's always somebody else who has had a worse thing. That's what I always tell myself. I don't want to sound like somebody who doesn't think your worst thing is awful. "Corrie, I am so down. I can't pass this test, and I feel like the world is falling down around me, and my apartment floor is cracking, and I stubbed my toe." What are my options? People seek common souls. "I know how you feel. My world fell apart when my Mom died..." Boom. I win. But I'm not competing, I swear. They didn't offer to make ME feel better, they wanted comfort. Oops, oops. Don't talk about it, don't talk about it, don't talk about it. Okay. So I don't. I never do. But I need to.

I never have talked about it, really. When I do, I stick with the surfacy basics. It's when I start talking about how I felt during all of the different moments when I lose it. I talk really fast if I ever talk about any of those moments. That breakdown I was saving for Nikki? It's not just for Nikki. I just need a witness. A person to sit with me, pray with me, and help me express every emotion I have hidden so that it doesn't leak out in grocery stores. Or the mall at Christmas time. What is it about a shopping mall at Christmas time now? UGH! Gets me every time. Christmas is hard.

I have expressed my inability to feel and process emotion like a normal person. I guess I was never normal when it comes to emotions. I have actually attempted to schedule a breakdown. "Let me know when you have time..." that's insane. Who does that? I do. Because, like my Dad... I'm so scared that if I open that door alone, I'll start screaming and never stop.

There were wonderful moments when my Mom went to Heaven. She told me about the colors and the angels. But there was horror too. There was a lot of blood, gasping for air... badness all around. It can't all be good. Even Jesus cried. The Bible says so. Jesus wept. There is pain, there is sorrow, there is healing. I'm needing the healing part.

I have amazing support, but I don't know how to accept it now. Nikki and I have discussed recently that I'm "back". It's true for the most part. Joy is no longer eluding me, and I can hear God in so many things loud and clear. Those friends of hers that I had always felt threatened by? Turns out one in particular wasn't my replacement, she was my soul mate. We're so very similar, so in a way I'm flattered that Nikki chose someone so much like me to be her best friend. The three of us have more fun together than any three people should.

I think that were I to ever tell ANYONE everything, they wouldn't be able to handle it. It's so sad. I would undoubtedly sob, and they would instinctively feel guilty for not having been able to be there when it all happened. Nikki says I'm back now. Talking about the past would make me go away for a bit. Would they go away too? It's almost worth keeping it all to myself if it means keeping them. When I lived in Alabama, I was so low that no one wanted to be around me. I don't want to be there again. BJ mentioned that I need to give it ALL to God. Makes sense... if it ALL goes to God, does that mean I don't give any to my friends and loved ones? That's what I've been trying to do, but I must be doing something wrong, because...it's all still there. I thought I gave it all to Him, but...ta-da! Boomerang grief. That's not fair. Comes back and hits you right in the face when you least expect it.

It's so strange to me that sadness and joy can exist at the same time in the same person. BJ pointed out that I went from needing a lot of support to giving ALL of the support, and that those are two very different extremes. Yes. I agree. I may have needed a lot of support, but I didn't exactly get what I needed, so I stopped needing it. Or at least that's what I convinced myself of.

To sum up this novel... I got sick, I got weak, I got sad. I was bombarded with all sorts of memories. I couldn't share them without over-sharing, which in the past has led to discomfort and distance. So, I withdrew, but not without people noticing. I told them I was fine. For the most part, it wasn't a lie. I want to tell them everything, but how can I do that, when I can't even think it to myself?

*sigh*

LONGEST. RAMBLE. EVER.