The most common thing I hear these days is: "You are so strong."  But, I AM NOT!!!  I am not strong - I am barely surviving.  If people only knew just how weak I am, I think they would be shocked.

I am strong when they are here - I am a caretaker - it has always been my job to make everyone else comfortable.  I am still trying to do that. 

I tell people I am okay - let's talk about them.  In other words, I continue to sweep my pain under the rug, letting others take up residence in my brain with their problems - their issues.  That is something they can talk about for days.  Heck, who I am I kidding?  They can talk about anything, as long as they don't have to talk about my dead daughter.

It's not hard for me to say: "I love you."  I have always said those words - especially to my daughter and to my husband.  But, I also try to say it to my students who need someone to  love them.  However, since Tash died, I try to tell everyone that I love - I want to tell them every time I talk to them - I NEED them to know - just in case...

It is a little harder to say: "I am sorry."  But, I can do it.  In fact, I can do it, even when I am not really sorry.  When people ask if I have children, and I tell them the truth, they react with horror, and I apologize TO THEM.  But, why am I sorry?  Because they are uncomfortable?  Because I brought down their day a little?  WHY AREN'T THEY SORRY???  After I say my daughter died, they cannot make eye contact with me any more - they cannot wait to get away - so with promises of a follow-up phone call and a lunch date, they flee as fast as their feet will carry them.  They make sure to hit the ground running, hoping that what I have is not contagious and that my "bad luck" has not rubbed off on them.  But, I see it - as soon as the words escape my mouth, I see their eyes begin to dart back-and-forth, looking for the escape hatch.  But, I let them go - sad, knowing I am more alone, but, knowing the only way to make them see is to bring them sadness or lay on the guilt.  So, I let them go.

But, the impossible words for me to speak are: "Help me" or "I need help."  I just can't do it - I don't care that people would see my weaknesses - maybe, they wouldn't say how strong I was - but, I don't care about that.  I just don't know how to ask for what I need.  I love all those people who tell me to call if I need anything - if they only knew the anxiety that I feel if I even THINK about picking up the phone to call anyone.  I cannot ask for help - I cannot answer my door - I cannot even make a choice between paper and plastic.  I don't know why it's so hard to ask for help - but, it is so hard to make it through each day - and, I just don't know what to do.  I guess, on one hand, I am afraid if I seem to needy, it will scare people away - but, I am also afraid they will stay!  Make sense?  No, I know it doesn't - but, not much in my world - or in my head - makes sense any more. I wish I knew how to make sense of any of this.  But, I do know now what to do when any of my friends and/or family go through trauma - I will not wait for them to ask for help - I will help - I will hold their hand - I will have tissue ready and listen to them cry - I will mention their loved one's name often - I will sit with them and listen to the silence.  This is really all we need from our friends and family as we grieve - I don't know why, but, it still seems like it is too much to ask for.

I am not strong - I am a mess - I don't mind that people think I am strong - but, I sometimes wish that they knew the truth - or at least, really cared enough to find out.