under pressure

do you ever get that sort of wobbly premonition-like feeling that you are "seeing" yourself in the future for a split second?

i felt like that this weekend. and the vision looked like this:

me, alone in a pile of stuff in the new apartment, sobbing my eyes out.

the weight of all that is happening in me and to me finally wringing all the tears out of my body, like twisting a sheet of soft bubblewrap in your fists. crackling. tearing. limp and pitiful in the end.

mother's day is next weekend. i had forgotten about it (conveniently!) until i tried to make arrangements for the movers to get my belongings out of my current place and haul them to the new place, and Yale made a meek protest that he had planned to spend Sunday with his mom. of course he should spend Sunday with his mom. yes. of course. i'm sorry i forgot. but i'm keeping the mover plans so that i will have something to do on sunday, when everyone else i know is spending the day with their moms. i'll be packing and then unpacking boxes.

in a few weeks, it will be one year since mom died. one year. ONE YEAR. i want to scream. scream scream scream.

we're going to tell the landlords at the new apartment that we would like them to repaint the bedroom. the paint is chippy and scratched (and also, i think, and ugly shade of dark red better suited for someone who has leopard print sheets). and i am reminded how last year in early may, my dear ones were rallying to help me paint my then-new bedroom back to the grass-green hue i had had my heart set on when we rented the apartment. the girl who left my room had thoughtfully repainted it to a toned-down sagey green. my heart was crushed. and in all the other heart-crushing circumstances of last may, my friends had tried to convince me to let them paint my room while i was out in rockford with mom. but i didn't let them. i trudged through a year with sage-green walls. since last may.

last may when the birds chirped so sharply that it hurt my ears. my skin burned with a constant flicker of pain. i walked around with eyes squinting in the bright light of spring and green and flowers. exquisite hypersensitivity to life. i can't describe it, but i can tell you that i remember it. piercing. stabbed through with quiet joy.

we're working at my parents' house pretty much every weekend until the wedding. hauling moldy boxes of 1970s national geographics from the basement to the dumpster, broken wind chimes, tattered christmas decorations. 37-odd years of stuff. plus the yard, the porch, the garage, and any other spaces that need immediate tidying.

i looked through some of the half-started craft projects around the house this weekend, and i felt a sharp pang of missing. the baby blanket she started knitting for me (just in case) but will never finish. all the projects we will never get to do together. thought of how much fun she would have with the wedding planning and projects. we'll use her stash of funky fun mason jars as table decorations.

i miss my mom, and the mother's day and the year anniversary and the wedding are piling and piling and piling onto my back.

and then i think about leaving my Roommate, and i just about lose it. our girlylove, our apartment, our late night conversations, our laughing about how we should be lifting weights while we stand in each other's doorways chatting. the dustbunnies with whom we live in contented harmony. the moths we stalk and squash. boys do not get very excited to see the new cute sandals you just bought on sale. they do not have the proper pain relievers on hand. they do not make fun of the victoria's secret catalog with you. i'm sure living with a boy will have myriad bonuses and i am very excited to make a new home with Yale.

but in the last few days, all i can think about is the leaving and the missing.

my posture has been abysmal lately. i think it's the weight of all this missing.

suggestions of how to shake it off are welcome. only 27 days to go.

not that i am expecting that getting married will mean that i will not miss my parents any more. i know that that is ridiculous. but i would like to enjoy these next few weeks. somehow.