I want to be the kind of person whose apartment is worthy of an ApartmentTherapy.com nod. Instead, I'm becoming someone Ellen Hovde and Albert Maysle might want to film. Since my father passed away, the one place I allow myself to wallow is at home alone. Sadly, I leave behind evidence: unwashed floors, unwashed dishes, neglected cat pals, etc. I waste away, growing a marsupial fat storage pouch, watching episode after episode of Weeds. At this point, with all my thrown together odds and ends, I'm no candidate for an Interior Decorator of the Year award, but I’d settle for an Honorary Very Clean Apartment Award. The first step in conquering a problem is admitting you have one, so I'm making a public confession to de-scandalize my shame. I've scheduled an appointment with a maid for next Tuesday. If I can't get my shit together, I'll pay someone to help me. Maid therapy!
And from this stepping stone, I hope to reestablish an area in my home for creative endeavors such as drawing, writing, and the like. I've discovered that when you lose someone you love you can lose a thousand little pieces of yourself along the way. My family, Erik, my friends, and my work are the thread that keeps my stuffing from falling out. But at home, where I lack both energy and impulse, I unravel. I entertain by distraction so I don't have to think about missing a man who was both a father and a best friend, a person who took up a lot of space and time in my life.
In my eulogy, I said, “The problem with loving someone who has died is that it feels so unrequited.” What was true the week he died is true now. It’s not enough that I was lucky to have had a father who loved me and was proud of me when what I want is a father who loves me and is proud of me in the present tense. I need to move past this useless want so that I can be happy with the lot I had, which was tremendously special and good. More, I need to recognize that what I had then is part of what makes my life so wonderful now. I had a father who helped me to make wise choices. My regrets are minimal in no small part because of his influence. He was also an artist who nurtured my own work, and I feel like I'm staring into the face of his memory and smirking at it.
My life before my dad died is very similar to the life I have now. It’s like two parallel universes kissing. What's missing from this one is the passion I once had for creation. I love my family the same, my boyfriend the same, my job the same, my friends the same, but my lonesome self bores me. I hate being by myself. For a girl who was once fiercely independent, this is very troubling, hurtful, and confusing.
So…I am enlisting help from those who care about me. Send me your marching orders, please. I’m taking requests, looking back at my school days where assignments were handed out, and while completing those assignments new inspiration would emerge and my own would work flourish. Tell me what to draw, tell me what to write, and I’ll select the assignment I want to work on each week with a hope that this will resuscitate my dimmed brain spark. I’ll use social media to share the results, if there’s an interest.
Your pal,
Audra
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7 comments:
So after I stop crying, let me first say while interviewing someone you entrust with a key to your place & the safety of not letting your kitties get out, first try to go with someone recommended by a friend. More than likely it will work out better.
Having said that, I have always loved the gifts you have made me. I might even say to go back to that place when you took a photo and created a painting from it. I remember how much Jason loved the one you did of he/Shorty/Johnny. I would love something like that perhaps with dad & all of us.
It's a thought. I don't know if that type of project would make you smile doing it or cry the whole time, but the artist in you I know would shine..
I love you.
mom
I, too, cry while I am at work. Your words are touching and painful. While I don't know the pain of a parent's passing, the eventual reality of it follows me.
B adores you, as do I, so I'll ask for her... something special for her room that she will show off and tell her friends that an awesome artist made it. She already has a great eye for art and you have always been an amazing artist to me.
xoxo
Rena
I hereby assign you to write a fictional account of your father hosting a dinner party with Albert Einstein, Charo, Gene Simmons, the cast of Hee Haw and Stephen Hawking. The conversation grinds to a halt when Einstein and Hawking get into a disagreement. Only Audra the negotiator can fix this...with a little help from her dad.
I say this with all due respect and love. Your father was a marvelous conversationalist.
After I lost my father, he returned to me in the form of a young character that I was writing, at a different stage in his life than I ever knew.
It's a kinda cool way to work through it without going through that awkward forced one on one dialogue that people usually try.
Also, I never got to use Charo, but maybe you can take the baton and run with it.
And cheer up, dammit!
-R
Leave the apartmenttherapy goal for next year. Meanwhile get your house tidy enough to live in and so that it isn't dragging you down. Good for you for hiring a cleaning lady.
It sounds like you are beating yourself up and feeling ungrateful for the life you have now. Everything isn't the same as before, so give yourself permission to feel sad. There is a reason why it's a year of mourning. I cried every single morning in the shower for months after my dad died. What I learned from my experience is that you never really move on, you just get used to missing your dad and the pain subsides. It takes time, so don't be so hard on yourself.
It might help to write about your feelings, but if you want a distraction, draw navels -- and by that I mean navel oranges with people navels on them. Just the idea of it puts a smile on my face. :-) Then you could write a story about them. I'm thinking horror genre or an award winning kids book. Funny how it could go either way.
Chin up! xo~J
Getting someone else to come by and check on your life helps amazingly with accountability. And they usually have more expertise than you do in how to get things done. That's why I hired my trainer.
And I nth the advice about giving yourself permission to grieve. I spent four months crying once every day, then another two or three only every other day. (Then it was the holidays; that threw the progression in the crapper for awhile.) But eventually, it ached less. Or my tear ducts quit in protest. Either or. This is not abnormal at all.
And if you do want a suggestion: Perhaps some small doodle highlighting those parts of LA that you adore and too few people know about.
Hang in there, kiddo. You are amazing.
Thank you all for the kind and supportive words, and for the many suggestions.
Russell, I adore you, but I think your suggestion requires a more intelligent person than I to tackle that assignment in a believable way I LOVED the idea, though. xoxo
And I do want to clarify that I am allowing myself to grieve. I just want to be able to do so in a way that also doesn't impede my at home routine so much.
Audra--I concur with all who have counselled you to grieve as much as necessary. I still break down every now and again, especially when I hit major milestones (marriage, pregnancy) that my mother would have celebrated with me.
My assignment for you: NaNoWriMo. It's a few months away. It's doable, even with a full time jobby, and a bf, and a garden, etc. I did it, and I'm not even a writer! I'll also invite you to the google spreadsheet that I used to keep myself on track, and maybe i'll even create a fresh and new one for you.
xo
kh
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