Bend. I have written about it before. I remember the first time Jesse took me out here, it was Thanksgiving. My “in-laws” lived in an area called the Old Mill District, which is near a shopping area, and downtown. Even though I barely knew them, the family was welcoming, warm, and so chill. A sense of relaxation came over my body that I was unfamiliar with. That has continued every trip since, and there have been quite a few over the past nine years.
It was his best friends family, and they took him in during his senior year and he never left. They of course had trepidation when we got married, in a sense, most everyone did, rightfully so in retrospect. However, they never once showed me that. I was welcomed into the brood from day one. Over time, as one does if they make an effort, I got to know these amazing, loving, and generous people. When Bella’s therapist told us after the accident that she could not go to any more of Jess’s doctors appointments, because it was messing her up, we needed to get her into a pre-school. But with only me working, barely making ends meet, we could not swing the whole thing. They helped us with that. When I needed to bring Jess to the hospital when he was having a manic episode, I called, and my “mom” dropped her life to come help me with the kids for two weeks. I feel like that time with her drew us really close.
A little background, I lost my mom when I was eight months pregnant with Raffi, in 2004. She was only 61, and I was 30. I feel lucky I got the time I did with her, but, also lost her when I was just about to give brith to my first child and needed her most. That bond that a daughter finally solidifies with her mom, once she realizes what it means to be a mom. My dad and her had divorced several years before, and he found happiness again, well, maybe for the first time I ever saw, with his current wife. I have known her for most of my life, and could not be happier for him and us as a family, and am lucky to have her as one of my moms. Sadly, we dont get to talk as often and have that one on one bonding time (but when we are together, it’s awesome!!) (And I don’t want to give you the impression what-so-ever that I am not close to my family in NY. I am. I love them dearly. It is just that they are 3000 miles away, and we see each other once or twice a year).
When Jesse was hospitalized for those two weeks, I worked all day, went to the hospital after, then dragged myself home to see the kids go to bed. Those nights, when she and I sat on the couch, we shared and bonded, much like a mother and child with the added benefit of a friend. I was raw, emotional, scared, and she with her groundedness, love and practicality was there for me. She was this glue that was keeping our family together during such a hard time. The kids got time with their grandma, which they adored. On May 8th, when I came home to find what I found, I called 911, then my best friend. Then they took my phone. When they finally let my best friend through the police lines, I told her to call my sister, whose number I knew by heart. I may have talked to her that night? I don’t even remember. But as soon as they gave me back my phone, I wanted my “mom.” I called and called, with no answer. It was late, so I feared they had gone to bed. I called Jesse’s best friend, who was living in Minnesota at the time, and said what happened, and that I needed his mom. He finally got ahold of them, and she called. I told her what happened, and they started packing to drive over right away. They arrived at 130am (it is a three and a half hour drive!) and I just fell into their arms. The time since Jess and Bells died, we have become even closer. My “dad” and I bond over losing a child. He and I were close-ish before, but these past two and a half years have drawn us even more so because of that. He even gave me one of my favorite gifts this year (a t-shirt that says: I am an intelligent, classy, well educated woman who says fuck a lot) (he gets me!). And my “mom,” I call her sometimes three times a week. I tell her all the time, I get the best of both worlds with her, I consider her a mom and a friend. They had moved houses after Jess and Bella died, and I remember the first Thanksgiving, six months later. It sucked. Badly. But the only saving grace for me was I was in a house that they never were. So I was not being constantly triggered with memories of Jess and Bella there.
I have always been a person that you need to get me away from my daily life to get me to relax a bit. This is not a new thing at all, but will say it has gotten ten times worse since they died. My sisters and I are a lot alike in this respect, we have a sense of accomplishment if we are “doing” things that are productive. I have had to really work hard to learn to relax and give myself space and time (without guilt) to not “do.” It does not come easy, but when I am away, it helps. I think mostly because I can’t tick off the never ending list that lives in my head at home. There are very few times when I truly relax now. It has to do with my anxiety and PTSD. My body just has a hard time with it. I can do meditation up the wazoo, but if my body is in a truly heightened state, it tells the meditation or whatever technique I am using to go fuck itself. But Bend. This place. This is one of my “safe places” for my mind and body. Once through the mountain passes, I relax into the flatness and expanse of the high desert, my body keys down about five notches. When I pull up their driveway, it goes down another four. Every single time. My anxiety is almost non-existent here, I can breathe. I have flashbacks, they are always there, but I recover faster. Christmas was this past Sunday. We spent it here this year. I was worried, because Christmas is loaded for me (see previous posts). I made it through without medication and alteration. I cannot tell you how big of a deal this is for me. The past two I have had to medicate so much so not to feel. Anything. Because I was feeling too much. Sadly, I think it is because of the entrenched memories of being in NY every holiday with Jess and Bells. I would sit on the chair and “see” my daughter playing with the christmas scene with delight. I would “see” her walk downstairs in wonder and excitement at all the presents. I would “see” her sitting on the couch having a “conversation” with one of the many people there. Then I had this immense guilt over being so “stoned” on medication that my daughter Raffi would have these memories of me being like that. It is not that my family is not understanding and supportive, it is quite the opposite. But, what they cannot do is take those memories from me, they cannot keep the loops from running in my head and not affecting my body. I decided this past year to alternate years between Bend and NY. I wanted to share with both families as I love them both. I will say though, it has been a welcome relief to my body and psyche to have this break, this lack of anxiety, this breath, from such a loaded time of year. It is not that I did not think of her constantly. It is not that I did not cry. It is not that I did not miss the fact that she would have been seven and a half, prime time for a child around Christmas. It is that I was in my safe place for me. The place that I go that I do not have any memories of them being there, so the loops are not running havoc in my head.
I don’t pretend to know the answers or magical tricks that help me through this grief and trauma. I feel like I am writing the book as I go, trial and error. I am so appreciative and grateful of the times I do get a slice of peace within, and much like the junkie craving their next fix, I am like that with peace in my life now, and will embrace and breathe in the expanse of it everytime it occurs.
The view from my bedroom window this week