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Mental health days and finding a new role

Starting around 2:30pm yesterday, I had roughly 24 hours of irrational anger. It made me understand why they say to make no major changes the first year after a death. Through those 24 hours I was so mad at Catherine that I wanted to dismantle her room and throw everything out the window. Not sure why I was so mad but I was mad. I'm blessed that I have bosses that understand what I'm going through and it was suggested last night I take a mental health day today. Normally I would balk at that because I hate getting behind at work but I was not in a good place and agreed that a mental health day would be beneficial to not just me, but anyone that came into contact with me. I wasn't in a good place.

I'm mad that she left me. She was my best friend. My daughter. For the longest time it was just me and her, out to conquer the world. That other side of our history is gone. I'm not only grieving the loss of my daughter but also my best friend. It isn't fair and it sucks. I'm mad. My world revolved around her. Suddenly I'm the only girl in the house. I am no longer the mother of a teenager with teenagers coming in and out of the house. I'm no longer involved with high school. I'm no longer a band mom. I'm now the mother of boys that are clinging to their dad and stepdad. It make sense, they are boys and they need that male influence. Josh and Chas are raising the boys to be men and I was raising Catherine to be a woman. While the boys played video games at night, I would sew and hang out with Catherine. It was our time. My evenings are now spent wandering the house. I don't know my role anymore. Outside of kissing boo-boos and playing referee, my role with them is limited at this stage of their life. Figuring out my new role is difficult. A mental health day was definitely needed.

While being mad, I reached out to one of my most favorite people. I met her through our daughters' friendship and despite my daughter being gone, she is still willing to be my friend. I'm blessed to have her. I went over to her house today after dragging my pissed off self out of bed. Last week I decided that I hated our furniture and that our house was depressing. So I'm redecorating on a tight budget. When I walked into my dear friend's house today, she handed me a pair of pliers and a wood chisel and put me to work. We stripped an armchair of it's fabric in order to recover it. Staple by staple and nail by nail, this chair was dismantled. I vented and laughed and vented and laughed and by the time we were done, we had a bare chair and my anger wasn't so intense. We ended up going to the fabric store tonight to find inexpensive sale fabric and by the time we got done, I was no longer mad. Catherine's room is safe from my irrational anger and I feel more centered. My fingers are cut and blistered and I'm ready to dismantle another chair. In some ways it feels as though I'm dismantling myself. I'm taking off the old ugly fabric and putting on something fresh and new and different. Because I'm different. The person that existed the moments before I found my daughter on August 29th no longer exists. A part of me is still around but I'm different and changing every day. I'm not sure who I will become at the end of this journey but I hope it will be a better version of myself. Just like those old ugly chairs. They will be recovered in bright fabric and made to look new and inviting. And just like me the bones are the same but the overall look and personality will be different.


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