Am I a monster?
So, mom died July 1st, 2020, 1:03PM. I've been paying attention to other things, for the most part, and it's helped a lot. College, girlfriend, working out, job seeking. Pain comes in waves, but they've been getting smaller and smaller. The first week was completely listless. Afterwards, it started getting better.
I wrote mom a letter telling her how I wished she wouldn't have had to suffer so horribly, and how I had to move on with my life. Jocko Willnik, a Navy Seal, recommended this in one of his videos. I think it helped. You thank the person who died for giving you that experience, then you write them to tell them how you need to continue your life. It may seem somewhat strange, thanking someone for dying from cancer.
I find myself feeling somewhat guilty over not being in more pain from mom's death. I mean, don't get me wrong. It hurt like a mother fucker. But at the same time, I'm able to just clear my classes with Straight A's? I only wobbled a little bit. Is that really okay? Does it make me a horrible person?
I mean. Even if it does, I think it's better to be a horrible person in this circumstance. Either way, life goes on. Mom gains nothing by me bemoaning the vicissitudes of life. My family gains nothing. But even so, some part feels like even though it's entirely impractical for all intensive purposes, I should be suffering more than I am.
Life is good. In fact, life is probably better than when mom was alive. She was bipolar with psychotic episodes, along with being a major narcissist. I loved her; we all did. But end of the day, she was a serious impediment to our health and well-being. A constant drain, returning almost nothing but scorn in place of our support.
The fundamental truth of it is that dad, my brother, me, my girlfriend, and even my aunt on some level are all much happier without her. Everything is so much more calm and peaceful and balanced.
But, I'm a monster to think so, am I not? I think so. And I think I'm fine with that.
[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A9YJv8mq1kM]
In the end, it's simply the Bardo. The ever changing quality of life.
I wrote mom a letter telling her how I wished she wouldn't have had to suffer so horribly, and how I had to move on with my life. Jocko Willnik, a Navy Seal, recommended this in one of his videos. I think it helped. You thank the person who died for giving you that experience, then you write them to tell them how you need to continue your life. It may seem somewhat strange, thanking someone for dying from cancer.
I find myself feeling somewhat guilty over not being in more pain from mom's death. I mean, don't get me wrong. It hurt like a mother fucker. But at the same time, I'm able to just clear my classes with Straight A's? I only wobbled a little bit. Is that really okay? Does it make me a horrible person?
I mean. Even if it does, I think it's better to be a horrible person in this circumstance. Either way, life goes on. Mom gains nothing by me bemoaning the vicissitudes of life. My family gains nothing. But even so, some part feels like even though it's entirely impractical for all intensive purposes, I should be suffering more than I am.
Life is good. In fact, life is probably better than when mom was alive. She was bipolar with psychotic episodes, along with being a major narcissist. I loved her; we all did. But end of the day, she was a serious impediment to our health and well-being. A constant drain, returning almost nothing but scorn in place of our support.
The fundamental truth of it is that dad, my brother, me, my girlfriend, and even my aunt on some level are all much happier without her. Everything is so much more calm and peaceful and balanced.
But, I'm a monster to think so, am I not? I think so. And I think I'm fine with that.
[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A9YJv8mq1kM]
In the end, it's simply the Bardo. The ever changing quality of life.