My mother is dead. I struggle with it each day.
Some days, I even managed to see a way through the present crisis to find hope that I will be okay. Others I just stay in bed most of the day.
I knew that I was going to miss/mourn her more than anyone else in my life.
I know I will miss my brother more, should I outlive him.
I dream about her less and less. They're weird, waking dreams tied into my struggles with her house, my house, the repairs & renovations that I am making. Tomorrow, I have to find someone to repair the ductwork at an affordable rate. I know I will dream about that tonight.
I have never had medical problems until now. Over the last year and a half, I have had more issues, seemingly incurable at times than ever before in my life. I cope with them but I am not afraid of the situation. I fear diabetes more than anything. The rest I can live with.
I miss working out more than anything. I know now how to work out but still can't do want I want to do. I will return to weight training one day, but I know now that core building is more important than the other stuff.
I am tempted to try online dating again. I give up on that regularly, this time it will cost me. So, I am going to wait to see if the ductwork will be affordable. If it is, I am going to gamble on it, one more time.
Ironically for someone who loves food, I find myself less interested in eating than ever before. It might be age, it might be mourning my mother, but I have largely lost my sweet tooth. I suspect it will only be a matter of time before I left sweets and treats behind. I suspect I won't miss them either.
I am hoping that I am finding my ability to write again. I have largely stopped it. I am easily distracted by other things. So I find myself writing this here late at night, early on a Monday morning.
I have lost my faith.
I don't think I believe in God in the same way anymore. I don't know if I believe or ever believed that prayer works/ed. I stopped going to church. The pandemic played its part, mom's loss of faith affected it. I went back briefly before the medical problems started to play havoc with my sleep schedule and the depression and grief took away my desire for it.
I would like to believe in God and I still am going to live a Christian life, but Church is not really that relevant anymore.
I am going to call myself an Agnostic for the first time in my life.
I just don't know anymore.
Part of me wants to believe Mom is in Heaven
Part of me wants to believe My Sister is there with her
Part of me wants Mom's wish of reunion with her parents and family to be trrue.
Part of me thinks it's a nice story, because it doesn't give me any comfort.
It's what separates me from many Christians and other similar believers.
I am Christian (or was) because it's the right way to live. I never really cared about Heaven or Heavenly reward. Now, I no longer believe that Jesus is coming back. I mean I still want to believe in it, but I just don't anymore.
Nothingness no longer scares me. I feared death for most of my life because of that nothingness, but now I'd welcome the peace it would bring.
that's it for Monday morning.
