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[koribehindthekeyboard]

Give Me These Moments Back

Eight years ago tomorrow, I lost my mom.

Eight years. That number is so strange. It feels like a lifetime ago, but just like yesterday all at the same time.

Eight years ago, my dad woke me up to tell me my mom had passed in her sleep. It was a Tuesday morning. I had been up late that night, crying pretty heavily because my aunt had told me at dinner that night that my dad was calling hospice in the morning... that the ALS had progressed more than I had realized.... that the end was getting closer and I needed to be prepared.

He never had to call hospice.

I remember getting home from dinner that night after crying in the middle of Jason’s Deli with my aunt, and I remember telling my mom goodnight for the last time. She was confined to a power chair, basically skin and bones. She was unable to speak, eat, or even swallow. I gave her a hug and told her I loved her. She blinked her eyes at me and smiled, how she would say “I love you, too”. And then I went into my room and broke down.

I looked at old pictures. I remembered all of the times we had before she got sick. When she was healthy and before my worst nightmare came true. My mom was my favorite person. We could laugh at the dumbest things until our sides hurt and we had tears rolling down our cheeks, and the rest of the world would think we were crazy.

I don’t remember a lot of her being sick. It’s like my brain has blocked that part out. I just think of how badly I wanted her to get better. How I cried at night and begged for her to be healthy again. I’d have given anything and everything.

And I’d like to say that time has made the hole in my heart smaller, but I can’t. I’d like to say that I’m not angry anymore, but I can’t. I’d like to say that I’m okay with the fact that she’s gone and that I’ve accepted it, but I can’t.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to say any of those things. I’m still heartbroken. I’m still angry. I’m still really, really sad. I still feel helpless that I watched her deteriorate in front of me and I couldn’t fix it.

And I still miss her more than I can explain. I still feel lost. I still feel like a giant piece of me is missing. I still feel like I took her for granted. And I hate myself for that.

So, Mom, I love you. I miss you. I hope I’m making you proud.

(Todays title comes from “This Woman’s Work” by Maxwell)

[koribehindthekeyboard]

All My Friends, They Don’t Know What It’s Like

I have never been someone that has a lot of friends. And out of all the friends that I’ve had over the years, many of them have been questionable. 

And something that’s kind of funny is that my friends rarely ever like each other. They always talk shit about the other ones, asking me “Why are you friends with them? They treat you like shit!” or “Wow, __________ is really an asshole!” 

And the irony in that the majority of the time, the person saying those things is also an asshole who treats me like shit. 

Don’t get me wrong, I have some really great friends in my life that have been through my side through thick and thin. But those are few and far between, and the rest of them have been, well, assholes that treat me like shit. (Are you picking up on the theme?)

And then, that begs the question: Kori, why do you continue to surround yourself with these people? 

There are multiple avenues to multiple answers to that question. 

The first is that these people do not present themselves to be bad friends. And most of the time, it takes them a while to show that side of themselves. They all start out almost exactly the same. They’re bubbly and fun and you relate to them in ways that you haven’t related to any of your other friends before. You have things in common and you have a good time and you become invested in that friendship and it becomes important to you. (Maybe a little too important if you’re like me and overly sentimental.)

And then you realize the same realization that you’ve had so many times: You are the backup plan. You’re the safety net. You’re disposable. They’re using you when it’s convenient for them. You’re their friend until someone better comes along. 

You’re a good backup plan. You’re reliable. You’re caring. You go out of your way for your friends all the time. They can count on you. They can screw you over and then act like nothing happened, and you just go along with it. 

And damn, it hurts the same every time. But at this point, you’re attached. You’ve spent time with them, shared secrets with them, bonded with them. You don’t want to lose that. 

Maybe you don’t want to lose that because you truly care about that friendship. Or maybe you don’t want to los that because you don’t have much else. If you lose that friend, even if they’re not the best, you don’t have anyone else. 

And you just let yourself get treated poorly. You continue to go out of your way for them. You continue to be reliable and caring. You’re a damn good safety net. 

So, maybe it’s because they don’t turn shitty until after you’ve become invested. Maybe it’s because you keep giving them the benefit of the doubt. You keep expecting things to get better. 

“Okay, yeah. That was a messed up move on their part, but I bet it doesn’t happen again! I bet it’s better from now on.” 

But, spoiler alert: it never gets better. 

So, maybe you’re invested. Maybe you’re the queen of second or third (or fifteenth) chances. Or maybe it’s because you have low self esteem. 

Maybe you just feel like that’s the best you can do. Maybe you feel like you’re not the kind of person that gets the good friends. You’ve gotten this same message over and over again, from friends to family members to boys you date: you aren’t good enough. And you start to believe it. 

You aren’t good enough. You aren’t good enough to be a priority. You aren’t good enough to be treated with respect. You aren’t good enough to get the things in life that you want. You’re going to be alone. Forever. And that’s the way it’s going to be. 

And part of you is like “No, that’s not true! You ARE good enough!” And there’s that small voice in your head that’s really trying it’s absolute hardest to cheer you on and encourage you to stand up for yourself. But that voice is so quiet compared to the rest of your being that’s screaming at you, telling you that you suck. 

“YOU’RE FAT. YOU’RE UGLY. YOU’RE AWKWARD. YOU’RE BORING. YOU AREN’T GOOD AT ANYTHING. NO ONE LIKES YOU.” 

And it’s that same screaming that gives you anxiety attacks at the grocery store and keeps you from getting out of your car when you try to go to social events. It’s that same screaming that has made you think it’s okay to allow others to treat you like garbage and convinced you that it doesn’t matter if you treat yourself like garbage because that’s what you are. Garbage. 

But that’s not true. You are not garbage. You are a human being. But if you treat yourself like trash, are you setting the best example for the world? Are you setting the expectation that you are deserving of better? 

It’s not easy. There’s no magic button that you can press that mutes that screaming. I’m sorry, I wish I could make one. It’s a slow, one-baby-step-at-a-time process. 

I wish I could tell you that I had completed that process. I’m nowhere close. I still have that inner screaming. I’m a little better at ignoring it, but it’s definitely still there. 

But I’m making my baby steps. I’m learning that it’s okay to not have a lot of friends. I���m learning that it’s okay to work on improving myself. I’m worth it. 

You’re worth it, too. You’re worthy of the good friends and the things you want in life. You deserve to be treated with respect and kindness and you deserve to get back what you give to the rest of the world. 

So, take that first baby step. Each one gets a tad bit easier. 

(today’s title comes from Anxiety by Julia Michaels) 

[koribehindthekeyboard]

I See the World Keep Moving as I Stumble

This post has been on my mind for a while. This is kind of what got this whole “starting a blog again” idea in my head in the first place, and it’s been something that I’ve gone back and forth about. 

It’s kind of an intense topic to start out with, but hey, we’re getting to know each other on a deeper level, right? 

I started an instagram account (@koriinketosis)  that I am using to share about my weight loss journey, and this was something that I was originally going to post there but I couldn’t seem to sum up the entire post into the character limit. I know that I tend to ramble on a little too long sometimes, but I honestly feel that this topic deserves more space. 

So, here goes... 

In the spirit of being honest and open and forthcoming, I feel the need to talk about a major event in my life that has had an affect on every aspect of my life, from my physical health and weight to my mental health and everything in between. 

On May 17, 2011, my mother passed away from ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease). I was 17, and it was two weeks before I graduated from high school. She died in the middle of the night, early Tuesday morning. She was at home. She had been sick for a while. If you aren’t familiar with ALS, it isn’t pretty. My mother had become quadriplegic. She was unable to to eat, swallow, talk or communicate in general. She had a feeding tube. Her muscles had deteriorated and she was skin and bones and in constant pain and discomfort. She was confined to a power wheelchair, where she slept at night because she couldn’t breathe if she was leaning too far back. However, during all of this, her brain was fully functional. She was trapped inside a body that didn’t work. 

Her symptoms started at the end of my freshman year, so my high school experience was spent at doctors offices and hospitals and physical therapy appointments and traveling for treatments. I took care of my mom as I watched her body fail. I prayed and prayed and cried and cried and watched helplessly as my favorite person in the entire world was slowly taken away from me. 

During this time, I was a teenager. An annoying teenager dealing with all of the normal teenage bullshit while also having to grow up too fast but not quite knowing how to handle life. This meant that there were times I would get frustrated with my mom for things she couldn’t help. And to this day, I have not forgiven myself for that. 

I talk about my mom, and I’m honest with people if they ask about her or her illness or her death. I don’t go into much detail. They don’t ask for much. My language is very matter-of-fact and emotionless. 

There’s a certain level of surprise when someone hears that you’re young and you’ve lost a parent. 

What I don’t tell people is how it feels. Maybe it’s because I don’t think they care, or maybe it’s because I don’t know how to put it into words. 

I was watching Season 3 of Queer Eye, and Jonathan was discussing the loss of his step father and he made a comment that really resonated with me. He said that as human beings, we like to put things in boxes and move on. We want to take our grief and stick it in a box and put a bow on it and call it done, but grief doesn’t fit in a box. And he’s absolutely right. It seeps into everything. Every ounce of your being and every facet of your life. It pops up when you least expect it. It’s in certain songs, it’s in certain colors, it’s in your dreams. You can push it aside and you can act like it isn’t there, but it’s always lingering and finding subtle ways to gnaw at your insides without you noticing until theres a gaping hole that you need to find a way to fill. 

The expression “time heals all wounds” is a lie. If you didn’t know that already, I hate to be the one to break it to you. It’s been nearly eight years since I lost my mom, and sometimes I think it hurts more now than it did back then. It just hurts in a different way. I feel like the pain never goes away, just changes form. 

It’s affected me in different ways over the last seven, almost eight years. 

I entered an unhealthy relationship that lasted too long where I went from taking care of my mom to taking care of a boy who took advantage of me in more ways than one. 

I lost all motivation for school while taking classes at community college and failed a lot of classes and ruined my GPA.  I ended up adding an extra two years to my time in college due to retaking courses and trying to raise my GPA in order to get into the education program at UNT. 

I ate my feelings. I gained a lot of weight. At least 50 pounds of feelings. (Down about 35 of it thanks to keto) 

I dream about my mom a lot. When that happens, its difficult for me to get out of bed in the morning. I don’t want to enter the reality where my mom is gone. I’ve spent entire weekends in bed trying to go back to sleep in hopes of dreaming of her again. It never works. 

My self confidence hit an all time low (not that it was ever that high to begin with, let’s be real) and I developed social anxiety that left me too afraid to leave my apartment for anything other than work and class for an entire year. 

I’ve overcome a lot of those things. I have graduated from college and I am now almost finished with my second year of teaching. I am working on losing the weight that I gained and am eating healthier and exercising. My social anxiety is manageable and I am stepping out of my comfort zone more and more. 

But the grief is still there. Gnawing at my insides. I’m just waiting for it to make a new hole. When it does, I’ll find a way to fill it. I’ll overcome that one, too. 

But I just want people to know that if they’re grieving, they’re not alone. There is no timeline. There’s no end date. And that’s okay. 

It’s messy and it’s hard and it’s something that people don’t understand until they’ve felt it. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Don’t be embarrassed. 

It’s okay to not always be okay. You’ll get there. 

Side note: when I blogged in high school, each post was titled with a song lyric from a song that I felt matched the theme of the post. Today’s title comes from “The Feel Again (Stay)” by Blue October. 

[koribehindthekeyboard]

And so it begins...

Hello there!

I’m going back to my blogging roots... back to good ole Tumblr. 

Except this time, instead of being a teenager full of angst and frustration, I am now an adult with adult responsibilities and challenges and ambitions. But the purpose of this blog is the same - sharing my thoughts and feelings with the internet for anyone who cares to read it as I type words to process what is happening in life. Woohoo! I am so original! 

So, I guess I’ll start this off with a little introduction. 

I’m Kori. I’m 25, I live in Texas, I’m a kindergarten teacher, I’m single with no children and I’m just kind of going with the flow at this point in life. I started the keto diet about 6 months ago and have been on a mission to be a better version of myself. I deal with some anxiety and depression, but it’s mostly under control. I want to share parts of my life or my feelings that someone else can relate to. I feel like those are the highlights of me, and you’ll find out more along the way. I am terrible at describing myself in any kind of online bio. 

So thanks for reading and stay tuned. I promise I’ll get more interesting.