It's My Party

Maya Angelou (via kari-shma)

(Source: kari-shma, via mascarah)

I did something really stupid yesterday.  I’ve been feeling down since Sunday was the 6 month anniversary of my mom’s passing.  I’ve been in “consumer” mode since then (although, lets face it…I’ve always been a bit of a shopper).  In any case, it’s definitely been a bit worse and I have just been buying pretty much whatever I want within reason…ie: not getting myself into debt.  

UNTIL….yesterday.  I went to Barneys on my day off to scope out the beauty floor, which pretty much sucked.  As I was leaving, I decided to look at the bags, and without even taking a run up to the CO-OP floor, I got sidelined by one decidedly expensive and trendy handbag.  Before I knew it, I had plunked down my card, arguably for the most expensive item I now own.  Signing on the dotted line with a mixture of glee and regret. The awful and funny thing is: I wear a uniform at work every day.  I wear Grey’s Anatomy Scrubs!!!  I don’t even dress up to go to work or need to look remotely decent on the way there.  I don’t need expensive or fancy handbags, because 1. I have a few, and wear them enough, and 2. it looks weird with my so called “outfit” of sweats and Uggs.  I really like the bag.  I actually love it…probably the idea of it on me and what I’d like to be rather than who I really am and what my daily needs for accessories are. I’m not an editor at Vogue, I’m not getting my picture snapped by The Sartorialist, and if you saw me on the street you certainly wouldn’t think I was a fashion blogger with exceptional style.  

I came home, ripped the tags off, loaded it up with my belongings, and made a promise to wear the shit out of the thing so that I got my every cent’s worth out of it.  Yes, I thought about returning it, but ultimately I am keeping it to teach myself a lesson in restraint and a lesson in loss.  I am going to have to pay for it with my money and in my own head.

Nice things- whether they be lipgloss, handbags, shoes, or even food….they won’t bring my mother back.  They won’t bring my grandpa or my grandma, or my cats back. Owning and consuming is NOT going to fill the hole in my heart that was left 6 months ago.  It fills me with guilt and regret, because my mother taught me better and I KNOW better.  It doesn’t mean that I’m swearing off shopping, but rather employing a bit less impulsiveness and more moderation.  I swear, it was like a mania- just BOOM!!!  The handbag was mine and that was it, regardless of the consequences.  And that was/is wrong.  

Ultimately, I don’t need to be a genius to know that the hard earned money I plunked down would be better used in a) therapy, b) going to the gym and eating right, and c) charity.  

Consider it a lesson learned. 

sepiabeauty:

holy moly, an aritzia is opening in soho! this is an amazing canadian brand and i’m so excited it is expanding beyond the homeland.

one of my favorite stores ever!!  i shop in the short hills one.  Carmela is my girl there…amaze.

(Source: krysosandchandi)

I’ll start with this Sunday night/Monday morning- 

Getting the Stomach Flu at the same exact fucking time as my boyfriend.  Or, I should say, he got it about 3 hours before I did.  Obviously, I was not very helpful.  I  had to go make the 20ft trek back to my own apartment so that we wouldn’t be in a more awful situation together.  A full day of recovery yesterday, and I think we’re running on all engines.  I mean, if you can make it thru that grossness together, it must be true love.  

(via ramshackleglam)

With the passing of time, the loss of my mother hasn’t gotten easier.  At least for now. It’s gotten worse, I think.  For both me and my father, I think we are feeling her loss more now as we pass through the holidays and as life goes on.  Thankfully, we have been able to spend tons of time together, as well as with my other family members that has softened the blow.  Being surrounded by people that love her and miss her as much as we do has been lovely.  But, it still doesn’t change that each and every morning when I wake up, I realize again that I have lost my best friend, my biggest cheerleader, the largest life-force that I have known.  Each and every day it comes as a shock.  Sort of like the movie “50 First Dates” when Drew Barrymore has to sort of learn her past over and over to move on with the current day, I have to wake up and realize that my mom is gone.

Add to that the loss of my grandpa in March, and then my grandmother the day after Thanksgiving- 2010 was a goddamn motherfucking bitch of a year.  The likes of which I hope to never come across ever again.  

I am hopeful for 2011- hopeful that my relationship with the love of my life will continue to grow in a positive direction (and that a big fat diamond is in my future!!!!), and that my family will move on from the loss and feel the pain less and less each day. May this year truly be a happy and healthy one for all of us.

My dad tells me to talk to her before I go to bed at night, and perhaps that she will come to me in my dreams.  I tried this the other night.  All that came to me was tossing and turning, and horrible images and nightmares that I won’t soon forget. Tigers (literally!!!) breathing at my window.  False accusations being hurled at me (about what, I have no idea…), persecution.  All around awful.  

I am not one that usually remembers my dreams..ever.  Though I am aware everyone does dream, I just don’t recall mine.  Usually.  Until lately.  And before you ask…NO, I am not taking any sort of sleep aids or medications that would induce crazy dreams.  

I see faces of death…her face.  Quiet.  Cold.  It haunts me day and night, and when I wake up at 1, 3, 4:30…it is all I see.  I can’t escape it.  I am scared of getting cancer. Of having a stroke.  Of being like her.  Scared that she was in pain and we didn’t know it.  It’s been what…3 weeks??  It doesn’t get easier.  And people do forget.  All the ones that were so concerned at first, that lasts about a week. Now it’s me, my tears, my father, my family, my boyfriend.  All alone without my mother.  Stuck with my loss, my fear, my all encompassing sadness.

Break in the clouds- I do smile.  I do laugh.  I do find happiness.  Fleetingly.  Sunshine does come through, and I welcome it.

Sorry, but I am just catching up on my TV watching after 10 days out of the game.  

RHONJ.  Danielle.  ”ETHNITICITY”. 

uhhhhhhhhhhhhh.  What?

also coming from the same person who can’t distinguish the difference between WOMEN and WOMAN.

I shouldn’t be surprised.  

After a memorial service, and 4 days of sitting shiva (almost typed shitting siva…errrr…) I am absolutely over having people come in and out of the house.  I can’t wait to go back to my own home, get into my (the boyfriends) bed, and have a little peace and quiet and start to figure out this process they call “grief”.  

I am totally grateful for the people who have taken the time to come out and express their sympathies, and spend time with us, bring us food, etc.  My dad has enough chickens to feed him for a month, brisket, cookies, cakes, etc.  He can supply a bakery. I’m feeling bratty and juvenile and just. want. to. be. alone.  

i’ve been in my room for the better part of a day (aside from a quick trip to get a mani for a wedding this weekend, and a trip to duane reade).  I was then interrupted by my aunt, who decided to leave where she was and she flopped on my bed next to me and proceeded to pass out.  So I got up, and went to the couch, where people arrived an hour early for shiva.  My aunt has now woken up and I am back in my room with the door closed.  I will be here until it’s time for my father to drive me back to Jerz.

to say that the past 10 days have been the worst of my life would be a grave understatement.  My heart is broken into a million little pieces and I can’t even find the focus to think about picking them back up.

She’s gone.

Never to say “I love you”, “I am proud of you”, “call your grandmother”….ever again.  My best friend, my confidant, my advisor…my MOTHER.  She is gone.

Again, I find myself puzzled as to why I’ve stopped crying, why the tears just won’t come anymore, as hundreds of people around me weep.  Perhaps it’s because I’ve cried a literal river of tears long before they knew what was going on.  I broke down non-stop while in the hospice, while I watched my mother decline more and more each day.  It only took 4 days (maybe less) for her passing to come, once we moved her.  

She was comfortable.  Pain-free.  LOVED.  I got in bed and held her from behind while I rubbed her shoulder and arm, and kissed the crook of her neck.  My father, in front, holding her hand and looking at her slack eyes and mouth.  We held her and spoke to her as she took her last breaths.  We waited and waited for the one that never came.  ”I’m here, It’s okay,” I repeated…over and over.  As much for myself as for her.  Later, I kissed her cold forehead in a goodbye.  ”I love you, mommy.”  And all I have left are my memories.  Ones that I am scared I will forget.  

Over 400 (!!!) people showed up for her memorial service.  The funeral director said he can’t remember one that large.  The boyfriend likened it to a fireman or police funeral. 300 people seated, more standing room in back, the hallway, and 2 rooms filled.  All in honor of my mother.  I spoke.  People say that I was poised…but I couldn’t have imagined it any other way.  I am my mothers daughter.  I strive to be like her.  She would not have broken down.  

“How are you doing?” they ask.  I’m doing like a woman who just lost her mother way too young…thats how.  Lamenting my loss.  Lamenting the loss of my future grandchildren.  The experiences I will never have with her.  Worrying about my father. How he will do after his partner of 43 years is gone.  Numb.  This is surreal.  How could this have happened?  But it did.  And so they share their stories with me.  They tell me how she was at work.  How amazing, how inspiring.  How she “took a chance on me.”  Or “my daughter is where she is today because I had her call your mother.”  I hope that my mother knew.  I hope she knew how many people loved her, looked up to her, will miss her.  

My moo moo.