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eclecticmuses :: April :: Missing


Please, please forgive me,
But I won't be home again.
I know what you do to yourself,
Shudder deep and cry out:
"Isn't something missing?
Isn't someone missing me?"



I’ve lived in her house, but I can’t remember the last time she was home. It’s not like she cooked dinner for the two of us and encouraged the sharing of stories from the day. She was overbearing, not overprotective. She didn’t really care, so long as I was busy and not so plain. But, five years ago, she went to Rose Ridge for her Alzheimer’s. I kept that a secret as long as I could, until she got admitted to the hospital and left me no choice. But, I took care of her. I visited, paid the bills. I guess I expected her to come home at some point, because she was my mom. She never came home, except for the urn that’s sitting on the top shelf of my closet.

She was lucid, once. It was like nothing had changed. I wasn’t driven enough or focused enough. I just wasn’t enough, simple as that. I wasn’t anything to her except her poor excuse for a daughter. I wasn’t the one who cared for her, visited, kept secrets, encouraged the Chief to visit her. I wasn’t her prodigy, despite everything I’ve done thus far in my internship. No, I was just ordinary. By the time I had the words and strength to fight back, she was gone again, like she’d never been back.

I almost died. Well, maybe I did die for awhile, or maybe I was dead. I don’t really know how to phrase it. But, I remember things in blurry pictures with garbled sound. One part is clear though – so clear that I don’t know if it was real, but it felt real. Mom said I wasn’t ordinary. And, then I wasn’t dead anymore, but when I came back, she was gone.

She isn’t coming home. I did an amazing surgery to prove I wasn’t gone too – to prove I wasn’t dark and twisty Meredith. I think dead-mommy might be proud, wherever she is. But, she won’t be coming back this time, not that she ever was. She’s missing, except for that urn in the top of the closet. But, I have this new mommy, a faux mommy. Susan is nice. She’s overprotective and cares too much; she’s trying so hard to make up for things I never had, but she can’t be my mom. She buys groceries and stops by work; she asks about my day, and she likes my boyfriend. She’s a good mom, but she’s not my mom. I’m trying this, because I think it might be good for me – maybe even for both of us – but, my mom is still missing.

fandom_muses April :: Jump

If all your friends were jumping off a bridge, then would you jump too?




Friends are interesting things. They’re all different – so different. Each has comes with their unique quirks and gifts, annoyances and tantrums. They’re different. They have their own little buttons they wear on the sleeves of their scrubs yet guard so carefully with a ten-blade. They’re all a little damaged, too – we all are, and I think that’s what makes us so close. But, if there was something that caused all of them to collectively decide to jump off a bridge together? Yeah, I’d jump too.

We’ve had moments where we’ve jumped together. Like, for Izzie. She cut Denny’s LVAD wire. We knew she did. We were together; we helped her. We were in it together, no matter what. We took the blame, the timeout, the questions. We stood together, and we jumped off that bridge hand-in-hand. Because, you know what? That’s what friends do.

Even if it’s crazy and surreal and not what you want to do? If your friends jump, then you jump too. You can’t be the voice of reason, not always. You can’t stand aside and point fingers. Because, the thing is, if you were the one ready to jump, they’d be there with you. That’s what real friendship is all about. Sometimes you need a friend to kick you in the ass. Like, when I wanted to stay in bed and whine about my feeling and a lack of a McLife, Cristina was there, kicking me out of bed. And, when we were stuck with the bomb? She was there too. I had my hand on a freaking bomb, and she was there, right beside me, until Burke made her leave. And, she and Izzie took care of me after it exploded.

Oh, and when I was walking around like a human traffic accident? Izzie and Cristina were there too – granted, they were making a circus event out of a patient they stole, but they were there. And, when I fell in the water? Derek saved me, but Cristina was so there and so afraid and so desperate for me to wake up and be okay. I mean, there’s so many moments where I’ve just jumped off the deep end, and someone’s always been there to catch me or jump with me. So, if they all decided to jump? Absolutely, I’d be there.
You don't see what you possess, a beauty calm and clear
It floods the sky and blurs the darkness like a chandelier
All the light that you possess if skewed by lakes and seas
The shattered surface, so imperfect, is all that you believe




Lady Macbeth wakes up in the night and furiously scrubs at her hands. No matter how hard she tries, she can never wash the blood off. It's a funny thing to think about while you're sitting in the bathtub, but all I could think was that no matter how long I soaked, I just couldn't get the ordinary off. And, I just wanted to disappear for a minute, to escape the ordinary for just a little while. Disappearing isn't really such a bad idea, is it? If the Lady had given it a shot, everyone would have been better off, you know?

If it's a bad idea to disappear, then it should hurt. But, it doesn't. It feels a little cold, but it doesn't hurt… and sometimes we just need to escape from the pain too. I held onto the side of the tub and let myself slip under the water, just for a minute. It didn't hurt, and I didn't want to disappear forever. It was cool and quiet and calm, so very calm. But then, there was Derek – he looked blurry from under the water, but the pain in his eyes wasn't blurred at all. Disappearing didn't hurt me, but it hurt Derek somehow. He pulled me out of the tub, and he was so upset with me. But, I didn't do anything wrong…

Then there was the accident, the near-death experience, whatever you want to call it. I tried to swim, but there was so much water. And Derek has been telling everyone since then what a great swimmer I am, how I could've made it or just held on a little longer. And maybe I could've, but there was so much water… and I wondered if I could disappear again, just for a minute, because somehow the water felt welcoming. I let go, and I didn't really try to swim again, but did I
ever really try?

I don't really remember being dead. It feels like a dream that fades when you wake up. But, when I woke up, Cristina was crying and begging me to be okay. Apparently disappearing hurt her too, but I really didn't mean to disappear that time, well, not really. And when I saw Derek? He looked broken, like he wanted to disappear too. And, maybe that's when it clicked – because at that moment, I couldn't imagine him disappearing, not even for a minute. But, I didn't talk about that. I asked him if my mom had died, because I remembered something about her while I was… away, I guess. And Derek just held me, so close, as if he thought I might disappear if he didn't hold me close enough. And you know, that's okay with me because I don't think I want
to disappear anymore, not even for a minute.




Home


She can't remember the last time her house felt like home. Sometimes, looking back, she isn't sure if it ever did. There were plenty of times when she didn't felt welcome, didn't feel good enough, didn't feel like she belonged, didn't want to be there at all. But, even though she lives there now and her mother is gone, it still feels like her mother's house and not at all like home.

Izzie has no problems calling it home, but maybe that's because she doesn't want to go home. She seems to have no issue cooking and cleaning and decorating. She walks about in her underwear, cooks obscene amounts of food, throws an occasional party, gets drunk right there in the house with no worries or cares. And Meredith envies that. The closest Meredith has come to that is having sex in her mother's house, but that's something she got over a long time ago.

George, while he lived there seemed to have no problem calling it home. His only problem was that his room was smaller than Izzie's and that he got treated like their sister by default. But, he had no issues in calling it home. He played and laughed and slept and even moved Callie in, sort of. And, sure, Meredith has sort of moved Derek into her mother's house, but he has respect for the space and doesn't walk around naked or forget to wash his hands.

And Alex, though relatively new to the house, seems perfectly cool with calling it home. Of course, that leads everyone to the question of just where he lived before, but no one wants to know the real answer. Cristina is even comfortable there – not necessarily calling it home, but referring to it as Mer's house, not Mer's Mom's house.

But, her mom is in an urn in the top of her closet. And the house still doesn't feel like hers. When her father came over for dinner with Susan, the house somehow felt like his, though he hadn't lived there in years. But he knew that the swing was never broken, that there was a pin in it so Meredith wouldn't hurt her fingers. As she watched the swing move back-and-forth, she felt for a moment that maybe one day the house might feel like home.

fandom_muses :: March :: slow motion

Slow Motion


It seems like a near-death (or, I guess in my case, just death) experience should feel rushed. There should be an overwhelming amount of activity – life-flashing before your eyes, fighting for your life, running to/from the white light. It should be hurried and frenzied and sudden. But, it wasn’t. Everything moved so slowly…

Maybe it’s because the day started at a slower pace. I was in the bathtub, trying to float away just for a minute. I just wanted to disappear from everything, not forever but just for a minute or two. I slipped under the water in the tub where everything was quiet and still. Then, Derek pulled me out of the tub, and even that seemed to move slowly even though in actuality it was sudden. He demanded to know why I tried to kill myself, and he had this hollow, broken look in his eyes. I didn’t want to die; I just wanted to disappear. Why didn’t he understand?

Work somehow moved in a surreal state of slow motion. The ride to the ferry boat was silent, mostly; we were all crammed together, nervous and excited but quiet. We sat there, triage kits on our laps, badges pinned to our jackets. And, once we arrived at the scene, it was overwhelming; it was a disaster area that smelled like smoke and blood. It was chaotic but moving slowly somehow. And, I made my way through as many victims as I could, with an oddly quiet little girl following me and holding my hand. She was sweet though, my little helper. We were working to save a man’s life together, to make his bleeding stop. He had started to panic and kicked me; I was too close to the ledge, and that’s when everything changed, and though it was sudden, the moment seemed to last forever.

Everything moved so very slowly, just like in the bathtub that morning. I don’t know how long it took for me to hit the water, but it felt like an eternity. And, at first, the water felt nothing like water. It wasn’t cold or wet or anything. No, it felt like quicksand, and it wanted to pull and pull until there was nothing left of me to pull. I tried to swim, to fight, but fighting against quicksand only makes bad matters worse, you know. When I stopped trying to swim, the water felt like water, but it felt like the water in the bathtub, quiet and still. I didn’t want to die; I just wanted to disappear, for a little while.

I remember death in fragments – weird, disjointed pieces that pass through my memory slowly. Doc was there, my sweet, good boy. And Denny was there; he seemed very alive, but I know he wasn’t, well, isn’t. It was weird… And that guy with the bomb was there. And a patient we had… she kept bleeding, which didn’t seem right, and I couldn’t make it stop. And Mom’s scrub nurse. And, Mom… I saw Mom, and she said I wasn’t ordinary. Everything else has fuzzy edges and muted sounds… except Mom.

Waking up – I guess that’s the right phraseology, coming back to life and all – hurt. Cristina was crying; I remember her crying, and it was happening so fast – all her words were tumbling out so fast, begging me to say something, to not have brain damage. And, all I had for her was “ouch”. But she seemed relieved, so very relieved. And, Derek… Derek looked like he’d been broken, but somehow his eyes were so alive and sparkling and real. I remember sleeping, and even sleep seemed to drift by quickly only to fade into waking up with Derek beside me. Maybe sometimes you have to disappear from the world for a moment or a few hours to make it spin again, to break the miserable, slow pace that sometimes takes over.

fandom_muses February : Oscar Wilde quote

"A true friend stabs you in the front." - Oscar Wilde

We were never friends. We never have been, and I guess now, we never will be. Friends give hugs when you need them, nurse you through hangovers and heartbreak, bring you coffee when morning comes too early. Friends aren't critical because when comes down to it? They love you, flaws and all.

But, friends are funny when they hurt you. They keep secrets, laugh, cut you deep down when you least expect it. Sometimes they don't even expect it, don't even mean to do it. But, maybe it's because you never expect them to hurt you. But, if they have to hurt you, then you'd want them to stab you in the front - no secrets, no lies.

She always stabbed me in the front. She was critical and never hid it. When she hurt, it was like a surgical strike - quick, to the point, right on the mark. But, the pain did stick around a long time. At least she never stabbed me in the back. She stabbed in the front, like I'd want a friend to. Maybe Mom and I were friends somewhere deep down, in some weird sense of the term.

...weird.



No. I haven't seen the 3-part episode yet. So, this post is subject to change.

fandom_muses #57: Dream

What did you dream about last night?

Some people tell you that dreams are your mind’s way of working through the stresses of the day that you put on the backburner. Some dreams are in color, some in black-and-white. Some repeat themselves, some don’t. But, dreams where you’re walking around naked are like an Alanis Morrisette video. Except, I’m not thanking anyone, and my hair isn’t long enough to cover anything. Okay. So, they’re nothing alike, except that they’re both weird. But, this really shouldn’t be my mind’s way of working through stress. It really shouldn’t. I want dreams with meaning – not random, awkward nudity.

So, I have this dream where I’m walking around naked, just going about my usual day. I’m walking around the house. Izzie pops her head to the side and goes back to making cupcakes. George only shrugs – oh, right, he’s seen it before. Derek doesn’t comment either. And Callie – why’s she at my house? – gives me a high-five which is all kinds of awkward and special but a lot better than the time she tried to break me against a locker.

I go to work – apparently, I drove naked, but my dream felt the need to leave that part out. I bump into Alex and McSteamy – they both kind of leer, and I think one of them made a comment that I didn’t actually hear. Addison rolls her eyes and stomps off. Cristina shrugs, but I don’t know what that means because she hasn’t seen this before. But, okay, so we go to rounds, and I’m there, explaining about a patient when Bailey notices that I’m naked. And, she sends me home with a lecture about decency in the workplace.

So, next thing I know, I’m back home, in my bed, still naked, going back to sleep. What did this dream tell me about my life? Apparently, everyone’s comfortable seeing me naked except Bailey and Addison? No, that’s even weirder than the dream. But, everyone’s mind has its own way of working through stress. Some people get chased; some people have their teeth fall out or cut their hair off. I become a nudist. Dreams are weird.

fandom_muses #51: Holiday Shopping

Holiday Shopping.

Alright. I'm making a list. I'm even checking it twice. And, let's face it, we already know who's been naughty or nice so I'm not going to waste my precious time away from the hospital going over that stuff. So, okay, here it goes, the list for my holiday shopping, and seriously? No peeking!!!

Derek: One of those neat crossword puzzle dictionaries. It seems appropriate and amusing. Besides, he'll get sex too lots of it, so I think he'll be happy.

Cristina:: How to Win Friends and Influence People. Seems appropriate, though she'll probably hit me.

Izzie: I saw a book of like a hundred different varieties of muffins. This might send a mixed message, but really? I'm giving her options other than blueberry just in case the baking frenzy strikes again.

George: Okay, this is going to seem lame, but I'm thinking... a stuffed animal. He wasn't a big fan of the dog, so no real pets. But, he seems like he needs a hug - or, at least, something to hug and make rude comments to. So yeah. I'm thinking a plushie.

Alex: An address book. You know, so he can keep track of all the people McSteamy makes him call.

Callie: Her own pair of lacy, black panties. Hopefully she won't try to beat me up again.

Bailey: Worst Case Scenario: Holidays. It's a holiday survival guide. I think she'd like it. She needs a little humor, you know?

Chief: a ticket to the Christmas dinner at Rose Ridge. He won't use it, but I'm giving it to him anyway. Mom would like it.

Mom: ...no clue. Probably another coffee cup.

fandom_muses: #49: Thankful

What are you thankful for?

Seriously?

I'm thankful for the program. Yeah. How lame does that sound?

But really. I am. I'm thankful.

The majority of my time is spent at the hospital. Shifts are long, food sucks, but it's all part of the program. I've seen a lot of amazing surgeries - I've scrubbed-in on a lot too. I've treated a lot of patients, saved a lot of lives. And, I've made some really great friends.

It's weird. I could be bitter or resentful or, at the very least, angry. I have to see the chief everyday which has been hard since I found out about him and my mother - oh, but now it's even worse since he refuses to visit her. And, I could still be bitter about the poor hiring decisions that upper management makes - like, Satan? And McSteamy? Though, right now, neither of them are being particularly evil. But, I'm not bitter. Not really. I'm long past the point of being a human traffic accident.

But, in order to really be thankful for the program, I have to say that I am so very, very thankful and grateful to Joe's. Because without tequila? I doubt very seriously I'd be so very bright and shiny (whatever that means anymore).

crossword puzzles, for usethe_elevator

Change is constant. She knows that. Oh yes, she's very well-aware. And on the off-chance that someone, somewhere in the ever-annoying powers-that-be-think otherwise? Something else bops along to remind her about change being constant. Nothing ever just... stays.

Yesterday morning, life was all smiles and giggles and crossword puzzles. Then it changed. In that moment of happiness, it changed. Because Cristina came in talking about bank robbery and jogging and random. From there it spiraled. And now? Oh, now it all makes sense. But, she stares at the crossword puzzle, reading and re-reading the hint to be kept and she knows it's secret without giving it much of a thought. The hint is never to be told because that would be truth, not secret, although she's wondering what the difference between the two really is.

She hears a grunt and mumble and something that sounds like a muffled yawn. She smiles an awkward little smile and hopes it'll be a better day - maybe another shot at bright-and-shiny, instead of another shot at change and secrets and random.

"I started the crossword," she says, because really, they're the past the point of simple good mornings and how did you sleep. Their days sometimes start in mid-conversation, like they never stopped, and she's okay with that.

#43: Satisfaction

Satisfaction

Meredith found a weird sense of satisfaction in being high on morphine. She didn’t remember the feeling when she woke up, and really, she didn’t remember anything she said. But, the feeling at the time was wonderful. There was something really great about being able to say exactly what she thought without her conscience or overall common sense interfering. She never really had a chance to just be completely honest, and the ability to do it left her feeling very satisfied.

George probably suffered the worst, but doesn’t he always? She mocked him as the 007 by saying what everyone in the room thought – hey, remember last time George had to do this surgery? Oh, but that wasn’t the worst of her drug-induced honesty directed at George. There was the mention of their weird, uncomfortable, sexual experiment, but the slurred affirmation that he was, at least, an excellent kisser. And after all that? She demanded that George keep her fully draped during surgery, to protect her dignity.

Cristina barely suffered. She mocked the potential of a McBaby, and other than that? She only visited briefly – just long enough to endure a loud declaration of how she was the very best friend of a very high Meredith Grey. She didn’t stop by to visit after that.

All her boys stopped by – McDreamy, McVet, George, and even a brief cameo by McSteamy, although he wasn’t supposed to know they call him that.

And Addison? Well, that was by far the weirdest of her visitors, but ultimately the most satisfying conversation she had all day. They talked about Derek, how to know if he was the one. She felt so satisfied, so sure, so elated with life in general. She wondered why she couldn’t talk to Addison like that more often. Addison only spoke to her at all because she wouldn’t remember it when the drugs wore off.

She wished Izzie had stopped by. She would have told Izzie exactly what to do, how to walk through the doors of the hospital, how to deal with her pain, how to make everything okay again. Would she have been right? Probably not, but then, she wouldn’t have remembered any of it anyway.

But, it was after the medicine slipped out of her system that she was the most honest of all. She picked Derek – picked him, chose him, loved him. She let Finn walk away – Finn, who was that guy, the one who brought her flowers and waited in the room all afternoon until she brought out of surgery. She didn’t pick him, even though he might have been the better guy. And somehow? That was the most satisfying decision of all.