It was an intense couple of days. I got suicidal, the day before Mother’s Day. That happened last year too. I knew not being able to call and send a card, or visit my mom for Mother’s Day, would destroy me. It’s not like I was even thinking of her a lot–more that my body was freaking out by itself.
Yep, auto-freakout. Not like I was ruminating on her. Just my body knows, on its own–my mom is dead. What the fuck. This is not right. I can’t do this no more.
My body needed her hug and kiss, to hold her hands and look into her eyes, and be with her as two living people. Nope, not any more. The vibrations of her voice as it comes from her body, will not bless my body anymore.
Being suicidal is uncomfortable. Yes, I had a very smart therapist who thought suicidal was what happens when someone gets really really sad. She seemed to think that dipping down to the bottom part of sad meant someone entered the realm of suicidal.
It doesn’t work that way for me at all. The most intense sad and suicidal can go together, but they don’t have to. They each have their own line on the graph. I’m definitely most in danger of killing myself when I’m too up, not when I’m too down.
I’m allowed to feel anything, as long as my behavior is ok. I could ache with the pain of wishing to die, all day, or endlessly. Any way I feel is ok, especially when I’m honest about it, especially with Ming. He’s up for truth.
I used to be afraid of strong feelings. But now I know–as long as the feelings keep moving, I’m ok. The suicidal feelings lasted around six hours. Then I got distracted doing something different and still felt like crap, but I could move on to other feelings.
Then the morning of Mother’s Day, Ming and I went out to the test site. We left Las Vegas around 5am and saw the sunrise from our car.
I was playing music loudly on my phone and dancing wildly, with the upper half of my body. I was getting energized for our prayer action at the test site. It was the opposite of the suicidal feeling of the day before–more like immortal, that I was filled with the holy spirit, and nothing could hurt me, even if I died.
“So, we’re going to hang a U, and park in the place by where we always park. And then we’re going to get the signs and take pictures, right?” I asked.
“Right,” Ming said.
“Oh, and there can be a lot of cops there, huh. There might be more of them than us. Oh jeeze. They might have the dog. Hey, shep.”
I was talking to the dog in my head, the German shepherd cop dog that was there before.
“Yeah,” Ming said.
“And then I’m going to sing a song, and we’ll pray. And then that’s it. Does that sound ok?” I asked.
We were listening to Bikini Kill, and some Salt n Peppa–powerful lady music. That’s my norm, but great for Mother’s Day. “Burn Your Village to the Ground” by A Tribe Called Red about genocide against Native American people started playing right when we were about to arrive at the test site. Wow–thank you, youtube algorithm.
The treaty of Ruby Valley says that land of the test site doesn’t belong to the US Government. The treaty is totally ignored.
I’d wanted to stay by the side, but when we arrived, I was more brave and wanted to approach the line. I felt powerful Mother energy.
There was a cop person there, waiting for us. Then Lt Jordan emerged, I think from his truck, wearing a black uniform I don’t recall. Before, he was in khaki. Maybe it was his Sunday best.
We spoke with the law enforcement at the line. I closed my eyes, and sang part of Eight Stanza to Bhavani, which is a beautiful Mother song. Ming hummed with me. We prayed and took some pics.
I apologized to Lt Jordan and the other officer, “I’m sorry you came out here for nothing.” They were ready for us, when we arrived just after 6am. Who knows who long they had been there.
But of course, we’d not done nothing. We had taken a tiny stand against violence and megadeath, following in the footsteps of thousands of other people who’ve done similar, standing for what they believe, elsewhere on earth, and on this particular sacred desert land.
An officer said, “It’s our pleasure.”
We said, “See you next time,” and walked back to our car, unarrested.
On our way home, we stopped by the goddess temple, which was beautiful and fun to see this part we never visited before. It was like a dream.
I wrote a prayer on a hummingbird postcard.
Holy Mother, Mother of God, please bless us to do your work of peace. Please help us stay strong to give authentic kindness. Please touch the hearts of all who make war and do violence, and help us find new ways to relate that serve actual well-being and healthy needs. Thank you for your generosity to us, nourishing our bodies and spirits with your beautiful love. Thank you for the milk that flows to us and heals us. We love you, your grateful kids! LM and M
We also stopped at Corn Creek on the way home, where we walked around and dodged serious middle aged dudes with huge cameras. We saw a coot, a cinnamon teal, and lotsa plants, like datura and the lush mint creekside we saw before there, right after my mom died, when I gathered some for my rainbow pouch.
Most of the datura was closed up, but this one was blooming.
Thank you for trusting me that I can feel all the feelings, including suicidal, and come out the other side, whole.