Processing Abandonment Emotions

My brother was my best friend. He was my dude. This morning I woke up with a deep ache. I miss him. It’s been ten months since he passed on. Grief is an ornery little cuss. This workbook: “Processing Through Grief” has been helpful.

Today, I felt abandoned and even a little angry, because I am about to release a new book that my brother was a large part of.

During the process of writing I was traveling and talking with scientists I met through dear friends.

My brother was the one I shared this excitement with. He held my secrets like a trustworthy stead. He left before it was finished. I feel so sad. I wish he could hold this book in his hands, my first work of science fiction. We were so excited together.

“Knowing Maude Seven” will be available in hardback on Amazon, and in e-stories, which will only be available at The Thriving Nook. Sign up for a free membership if you’d like to read it. Also sign up for The Thriving Nook Newsletter to be notified of this book’s launch.

Because I was struggling emotionally, I decided to head into nature and see how many other abandoned things I could find. As I walked inside the trees letting some needed tears flow, I spotted these abandoned things.

This book, beat up by rain that is slowly erasing the ink holding its purpose in life.
This lonely wrapper, left empty in the cold.
These two solitary lamp posts who can’t even touch one another or hug.
This bear, abandoned on a rock, it’s eyes dark blank stares beneath an upside down smile.
This plastic bag, torn and tattered, yet still holding onto its smile.
These two headless ducks.
A pile of leaf bodies just thrown on dead sticks.
This bridge to nowhere.
This graffiti on an old sign.

I remember once in 2012, my brother, nephew and some of our friends were in Olympia, WA at Tugboat Annie’s. I was singing at an open mic night.

I looked over at the wall on the booth we were in as we waited for our turn to go up, and on the wall was a quote.

I am nobody. Nobody is perfect. Therefore I am perfect.

I have never forgotten that quote and how it stuck me. As I walked off the stinging in my throat, I embraced the truth that I have not been abandoned. My older brother is still here with me. I hear him in the smart ass way I say things and the hollow underbelly of my laughter.

He’s floating in his home dimension where he can always be the dungeon master; the best DND dungeon master I have ever met, just for the record.

Grief Has It’s Own Ebb and Flow

I was so triggered the other day by a neighbor who wanted to talk. I said, “I’m really not up to it. I’m having a down day.” Her response, “Oh, get over it.”

Immediately I wanted to snap on her. Then this calm came over me, and I said,”Never speak to me that way again. My brother just passed in March.” She then tried to back peddle, said she was joking, I said, not funny and went on my way.

I’ve been civil because – neighbor – but it truly bothers me how people forget or don’t care what grief does to us.

My grief over the loss of my brother fired off a horrible inflammation flare in my physical body. I am now on month 5 of fighting it. We experienced a lot of trauma as children. Now I feel like a lone duck on an island of normal people who don’t understand why I am the way I am, not in the way my older brother did.

and I’m processing it as best as I can. It seems the more I am forced into situational normalcy, the more my body screams no.

My brother had a warlock energy. As teenagers we had D&D tournaments that would last for weeks. We talked for hours on the phone at least once or twice a week up to the week he passed.

He created such beautiful necklaces. He special made this one I’m wearing here.

The ache I feel missing him is extremely deep; sitting at the base of my spine, and it has me physically ill. 😢

I know time will heal this hole in my heart. I am processing the stages of grieving. I have relaxed into this slow pace. I cannot fight against this process.

So, I am flowing as best as I can, while focusing on self care, rest and nature feeding.

She Left the Planet

She jumped off a bridge into the middle of traffic in North Seattle this morning. She has lingered in my heart all day. I don’t know her name, what she looked like, if she had children or a husband, family, had ever felt love or had someone hug her.

And that makes me sad.

I see people in stores, brows furrowed in seeming anger, faces down trodden. I smile at strangers. Occasionally its reciprocated. Most times it’s met with a look of confusion.

We’re so disconnected our eyes no longer meet. We don’t share smiles.

I wonder how many people passed her today. I wonder if anyone smiled at her or met her eyes. I wonder if one person had, if she still would have walked to that bridge.

To the woman who left the planet today. I feel your human suffering. I know you’re being loved now.