If I don’t call my mom, I won’t have to know if anything else bad has happened, right? But then I leave her there, with her pain and her pile of work and worst of all, my father.
I never know what I’m supposed to do. Live my life? Live her life? Move back and help her? Move on and help myself? Call? Don’t call?
I so often choose not to call. I know. I’m the worst.
Does it get easier?
Day 121 – So tired
Bad news bears. My mom’s dog died. It’s hard to explain to people when your dog is ACTUALLY your best friend how hard this is.
It’s hard. Loss is hard.
I can’t seem to eat, drink, sleep, exercise, laugh, run, avoid, work, or beg the sadness away. How do people get out?
Day 120 – Sad Day
I felt good for a moment. Then I felt back about feeling good. Then I felt good again for another moment. Then I felt bad for that.
Day 119 – Cycling.
Keeping busy helps me avoid feeling sad. I filled today with everything I could think of: phone calls, errands, cleaning, dinner and comedy show with friends, etc. Pathetic, I know. Feel your feelings. But these feelings suck.
I found myself staring off into space when my friends were talking to me. I didn’t hear a word they said.
I heard HIS voice. I saw HIS face. I imagined what conversation we’d have now, if we could have one. And then the unfortunate reality of who I was actually talking to came back to me. I love my friends, but I’d give up everything and everyone to change things. I would. I’d live a lonely, sad life without friends or a good job or anything else if it would make it better.
Instead, there I was with my friends in their beautiful backyard, smoked cod on their plates, drinks in their hands. They were carefree. I was trapped.
Day 118 – Feel your feelings
Do so-called “normal” people have as many ups and downs as I do? What is normal, though? Like, pumpkin spice lattes and cute fall photos and long blonde hair and a terrier puppy and a small waist and a job in PR? Or, like, a big friend group and co-ed sports teams and tickets to concerts out in the desert and a boyfriend of 8 years that’s perfect and church on Sundays? Or, better yet, a comfortable job and financial security and good friends and a spouse and a house and a workout class every Wed/Fri and hosting themed parties and in bed by 10?
Instead, I have emotional roller coaster rides and confusion and judgment from my family and flaky friends and constant sadness and lots of cookies and evenings on the couch watching reruns and a job I tolerate that pays me next to nothing and a dream I haven’t accomplished yet and disappointing my parents and anxiety.
Am I doing it wrong?
Day 117 – Normal
Avoid, avoid, avoid.
Still haven’t made my deadline. Of course. Still haven’t written a word. Of course. Still haven’t faced any of my feelings. Of course. Is it obvious that I hate myself? Is it spilling off this page? If I could punish myself with words, I would. If I could punch myself into feeling better, I would.
There’s no way, it seems, to erase the pain. The well is deep. The feelings in there are fucking awful.
In the words of The Grinch, “I loathe myself.”
Day 116 – Dark Day.
I am avoiding talking about all the real things. If I talk about the thing that makes me paralyzingly sad, I will be too sad to function. Duh. But really. It’s true. If I talk about my favorite TV shows and ice cream and the dumb thing I did today, then I can keep moving and breathing and getting out of bed.
I write this to be cathartic, but I don’t often use it that way. I talk about my relationship. I bitch about work. I drool over a cookie I ate today. I write about politics and then delete it because it just makes me angry and instead talk about my dog.
How the actual fuck do people survive devastating things without annoying everyone around them or collapsing into an immovable ball of tears or both?
Day 115 – I…Sad.