One day behind. I can do this…
That “one day” rapidly became 4 by the time I posted this.
Is it weird to be impacted by someone else’s news? I mean, it’s someone I love. So that probably makes sense. But I feel a split. I feel supportive and annoyed. I feel sympathetic and unsympathetic. Like, “I’m sorry this happened to you. It’s bullshit. Now pick yourself back up and fix it.”
Because once you’ve been to hell and are partway back, nothing seems that ridiculous anymore. Everything seems simple. Friend is being an asshole? So what? Fix it or end it. Hate your job? Figure out how to make it better or quit and find what you want. I know that sounds simplistic, but sometimes the simple answer is the best.
And those don’t even seem like problems to me. I feel like my heart has been dragged under a semi-truck for the last 2 years, 2 months, and 24 days. I’m not the person to complain to.
But I also love him and really do feel angry on his behalf. I really do feel like something hurtful and awful and frustrating and life-changing and painful and ridiculous happened to him but I also think that until you lose the most important person in the entire world to you, you have no idea how trivial those things are. I shouldn’t be such tough-love. He deserves sympathy. I’m not sure I have it in me.
Oh, and I’m obviously an asshole.
Day 102 – Sympathetic but not
11th of September. Grief is universal. I don’t want anyone to feel what I feel (EVER) but I know for sure that some do. They probably feel the same gnawing fear that (more) people they love will get hurt or sick. They probably experience the same worried turning in their stomachs and frequent heart palpitations that come from nowhere. They probably suffer from insomnia. They probably feel like the world is closing in around them, like an elephant is sitting on their chest, like they will drown in bittersweet memories. Or, more accurately, crushingnostalgicsadlove memories. (That’s not a word, apparently. Microsoft wants me to change it to something else.)
That felt oddly dramatic. Pain is dramatic, but I try to make jokes usually to cover it up. Here’s a fact, not a joke: another woman started working at the same time as me, doing the same job. I went into her office today to figure out what she was doing (because I didn’t want to be wasting time but had no idea what to do) and she was doing a combination of looking for a new apartment and Gchatting her old coworkers about how she wasn’t doing anything. So. I’m not the worst employee?!
I sat back at my desk and with no work distractions, the memories came back. I swiveled in my chair to the memories of Thanksgiving meals with family in Oklahoma and being chased by our puppy when we first got him and how supportive he was when we were playing tennis or doing anything, really.
For once in my life, I was INCREDIBLY thankful when a meeting came up.
Day 93 – Thanks for the memories (I’m crying again)
I love organization, planning, and being a day behind in posting my blog. Not sure why. Just seems to be what keeps happening. Maybe this time it was because I am in the heart of the stress and grief, maybe it was because I got distracted watching TV and drinking chai tea, or maybe it was because when I’m in a disorganized, chaotic situation, I can’t think straight and I just end up shutting down like a robot with an “off” switch. Do they still have “off” switches? Do they still call them robots, or have we moved on to the more popular term AI?
Am I 100 years old?
Does anyone else feel that constant worried feeling in their stomach, followed by headaches, stomach aches, heart pounding, and insomnia? NO? Cool, me neither. I think sometimes that I’m very lucky I found someone who loves me despite this. I also think sometimes that I should probably go live by myself (and my dog, obviously) on an island somewhere and not interact with other humans.
Day 88 – Late as usual
This one will be short. I tried my hardest to have a good day today. I started writing a new play. But…
Grief burrowed inside me. I lived in it and it lived in me. I fought it for as long as I could. But then I talked to my mom and it won. We laughed some. We told stories. She didn’t want to talk to me. She said she wanted to curl up in her bed. But then she told me, “I won’t kill myself while you’re still here.” I will never forget those words.
You know, when your heart is broken, it doesn’t take much for the wound to open up again. Even the happy things and happy conversations and happy memories can rip the scar tissue out.
I am so, so sad. I don’t even know where to put my sadness anymore. Every time I try to have a good day, every time I try to be a better “me” or make other people laugh, I get an email at midnight from my mom saying she doesn’t want to talk to me and everything is terrible. How can I laugh now?
Day Eight – Life kicked my ass.