My earlobe rubbing feeling of security.
The rug ripped out from under me.
The hole in my heart.
The rage in the cage.
Suddenly lost in the city.
Where am I going and how to I get back to what and who I am?
I wrote this sitting in my car, in the dark, waiting for work to open last Thursday morning.
Her son is about to become a daddy.
I just broke a broken shower head, and feel like an accident waiting to happen. Trying not to have a melt down over a fucking shower head, and I get the call, actually a text. “Hey Auntie!!! She went into labor last night, she is at 9 cm now and I should be a daddy in about an hour!”
There is so much not right about this, but at the same time, it is life, and part of her is living on in this little boy coming into the world.
The mom, is not letting him be there, her parents are controlling the situation. He has been told he can’t be added to the birth certificate yet. There is something really wrong with this. I am sure they are going to want him to support the baby, in every way a daddy should, but they aren’t “giving ” him the title that is rightfully his.
She would be here, throwing a fit and making waves.
Had a barfing migraine last night, was up all night till about 3:30. Went to bed, woke up, called in, drank coffee, got it to subside a bit, but I am very aware that I am doing something wrong in my “getting over” her. Otherwise, my body wouldn’t be fighting me every step of the way. I am still sickish and coughing up shit. My skin is on fire. I am pretty sure it is either hives, or a form of psoriasis, and now migraines.
Her son is about to become a daddy and all I want to do is cry.
I awoke, talking to her in my sleep.
“I miss you so much.”
Then came the tears.
I’ve decided that I can’t turn my writing into Mel. I write here, like I am writing/talking to her. I can’t continue to do that. I can allow myself to write about her, but I can’t continually write as though I am talking to her here. It just doesn’t feel like that is healthy for me. I am trying to accept that she is gone.
I’m also mad at her for dying. Yeah, Yeah, I know that’s normal and it is: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. The closest I feel to any of that is anger. I did my denial in Texas. Kinda hard not to do, since the aftermath of her stroke was staring me in the face. The first 5 days were pretty denial coated, even though I knew in my heart, where it was all going. It wasn’t till New Years day that we got the final MRI results back. The images were so full of white spots. Every layer showed something different or new. I did my bargaining, face to face with her. I told her I would give up everything with Mr. Yummy, if it could bring life to her. I’ve been depressed the whole time. The stages just vary and I HATE this!!!!! Acceptance? Yeah, not so much. I mean I know she died, I know I can’t pick up my phone, and call her. I know I’ll never see her as I knew her again, in this life, unless I am dreaming. I just don’t feel accepting of any of it. Are you fucking kidding me?
Anger? Yeah. Hurt? Yeah.
How could she not have told me what she was doing? Did she realize she was as deep as she was? Was she as deep as it has been made to sound to me? Why didn’t she share with me? I would have accepted her and loved her anyway. I may have ragged her, and that might be my answer, but I think she either thought she had whatever it was, under control, or she knew she was out of control. She wouldn’t want me to see her as out of control. Everything in her life, at one point…was under her direct control. Then things spiraled.
And today, I miss her so much it hurts, and I am relieved Mr.. Yummy isn’t here to see my eyes. I stopped by my mom’s to see her after work. She said, “Your eyes look sad, come back!” Sigh.
I wish I could be done with this, but I know that Melissa will forever hang onto my heart. In a certain way, that is OK…but in a debilitating way, it is not and I wish she would just go, if it is to remain this painful.
Like I said, I’m feeling off today.
It took most of the day, but I did it. All the boxes I wanted, not just needed, but wanted to unpack, have been unpacked. All of the kitchen stuff I want to get at of mine, has been married in with his stuff. I organized his kitchen cupboards and did what he said a girl needs to do…nested.
He hasn’t seen it yet, but I am pretty sure he realized what he would be coming home to since I was looking through his cupboards containing pots, pans, and baking things and he asked what I was looking for. I just smiled and said, “Something to organize.” He smiled.
I went through my room and rearranged things so I was no longer bumping into stuff, and could find things.
You know what I feel like as I begin to let go and reclaim my life?
It’s OK for me to fly again. It’s OK for me to be excited about feeling secure and doing this thing Mr. Yummy and I are doing. To me, it all feels right. It really shook me when he said, “I know you, you dwell on things and you will use it to hurt yourself. I try to be nice to myself. Then he snickered and said, “Most of the time. And you should be nice to yourself too.”
This morning before he left, I thanked him for being selfish and self-centered and not letting me do anything. He smiled at me and said, “A girl has gotta nest.” So, nesting is what I did. I asked Mel, to please understand my need to get back to the now. I think she would. She would feel pretty shitty if I let her death derail the tracks I was trucking on down.
Till we meet again, my love.
That was so hurtful to write, but it’s true, and it HAS to be true. My life has to go on. I can’t do with you, what I did with The Girl. I just can’t.
Mr. Yummy and I walked into his house last night from the grill. As I came through the front door, my laptop screen saver was you. You were in your pretty white dress that you dolled up in that night long ago in 93. I saw it, and it made me feel warm. I just thought, “I had the BEST friend in the world.”
A few minutes later, Mr. Yummy sort of cleared his throat, and sheepishly said, “You can’t do that to yourself.” I let the comment slide. We talked about dinner. he went through the list of things he bought me for lunch. Rice crispy treat snacks. (Good thing I only like the ones you make yourself, otherwise, at some of the moments I need to self-soothe over you, I’d be Kripsy hostage.)
He didn’t let it go. He said, “I know you. You’re focused.”
I pulled an Arie and said ::Blink::
“You like to dwell on things. You’ll hurt yourself with it. I’ve seen it before.” He stated, he wasn’t trying to make me feel like he was getting on me, but I think he is just nervous about what he saw with my grief over The Girl so many years ago. Yes, I was self-destructive about it. I lost him, because I didn’t think I deserved him.
Still, I could feel the water rush into my eyes as I sheepishly said, “I’m trying to get over her, I don’t know how to lose a best friend. I’ve never done it before.”
“It’s a terrible, terrible… It’s out-of-order and not natural and I feel really bad for you, but you’re going to have to put the pictures away. Save em in a file and look at it when you need to, but don’t leave something out that will pull you into it.”
He talked about when he lost his mom, and that it wasn’t till about two months later, he had his total melt down. I realized, he is waiting for me to hit the melt-down that leads to acceptance. (Why are my eyes watering?) Is that how it works? DO I have to melt down to hit acceptance? I thought I’d just coast along and gradually accept it, albeit begrudgingly. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t, I don’t know how I am going to finally put you to rest.
I do know, that I was happy with Mr. Yummy, before you went and died. I was happy with my job. I was happy with my growth, the only thing that really sucked, was missing you and missing The Girl. I had learned to live with no Girl, and getting every minutes worth of my unlimited cell, with you. Before, with Mr. Yummy, I was so lost and sad before he came along. I felt I needed him to feel happy, but that didn’t work, because I was still left with my feelings about myself, my value: to self and others. I swear, I’m going to get back to the happy the Love Tour was and is all about. I love you, but you get to take my secrets to the grave with you, and not my chance at happiness. I’ve worked too hard for it.
So, not because Mr. Yummy told me he thought I would have to get rid of my pictures of you, but because I have this folder, it’s in My Pictures. I created it when I went crazy. It’s called EJP. You know whose pictures are in there and you know WHY I put them in there. Because I love her to the Sun, moon, stars, and back and always will, but it hurts. Every once in a while I take them out and look, but not for long, and as soon as I feel the stab, I close it again.
I made your folder, in my screen saver program. It’s called “I will Miss you…” and, I have un-ticked it, so that they no longer circulate. Typing that made my eyes burn and fill with tears my love, but Mr. Yummy is right, I need to be nice to myself. Now if I could just get him to realize that doesn’t include chocolate, he can be nicer to me in other ways.
I thought about this all day at work. It started with the realization that I had done exactly what Mr. Yummy spoke of with The Girl, to protect myself and be nice to myself about it, because I really have forgiven myself for how things went. No need to beat myself up anymore, or worse, hook up with someone who will literally do it for me. I’m not her anymore, and can’t go back to her. I also know you would be pissed off at me if I did. I know, you were happy for me. I know, you were proud of my growth and changes.
Mr. Yummy is OK with my extended family and my need to continue being involved in their lives. He understands that, and I am grateful. Somehow Mel, I don’t think I lied to you, when I promised you I was going to be OK with Mr. Yummy. I think I am on my way to getting that forty years of time, love and, tenderness he said he wanted to give me when we started way back in 2000. How many times did I tell you over the years that he said that to me, and I still wanted it?
I will always love you. Never will I forget you. I’ll probably still be your Pitt-bull till we meet again on my road. I will still write to you, about you, and step out on the back porch in the mornings and evenings and talk to you. I seem to have stopped wailing “WHY?!?!” to the sky, because it is all sinking in. This is just one small step, in a lot of baby steps to come, in my letting go process.
Sick n Sin. Again I’ll tell you, we did that saying proud. Thank you for the gift of your friendship. There will never be another you, For me, you will always be one of a kind.
I love you,
I went to your ex-husbands house yesterday.
Talk about surreal. “She” was so nice to me. I wish I could tell you the things I feel I learned. You (here in the human zone) wouldn’t give a shit. You’d spit at the whole meeting. I think in the place you went, you would understand all the variables.
Your number two, is NOT doing OK. I wish I could grab him and bring him here with me, to get him and his shit together. Stuff with his girl, is not going OK. He is learning a tough lesson in who to give his seed to. It’s tough to watch, especially because he knows if you were here, you would fight her. He and I don’t doubt that, since you never met a fight you could walk away from.
I did something you probably wouldn’t dig, but honey…you haven’t left me a lot of choice in things. They are with their dad. #2 is in the trailer. When I got there, #1’s face looked like he’s been in a brawl. He had been; with #2. #2 is not doing much other than thinking. I asked if he was OK, he lied and said yes, but I know better and could tell he was crying so I told him, “I am not OK. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you I am. I cry every day and on top of it…I try hiding it from Mr. Yummy because the thought of him seeing the full extent of my sadness, terrifies me after he witnessed the aftermath of my marriage and loss of The Girl.” I told him Friday, I left work at 2:30 and played “My Immortal” Over and over for the whole commute and cried the whole hour it took to get home, then went outside and pulled weeds and continued crying till I spoke to them (the boys) at 5:30.
Upon hearing this, #2 let the wall down. He cried, and told me his fears. I did something you might not like. Till he gets that education finished, he’s not going to be able to do much. Without a car, he’s not going to be able to get around very easily. When I needed to pull myself out of poverty, I went union. I asked him to go to LU 46 and take a call as a material handler. You know the benefits. You know the perks. You KNOW, he could do that job, move forward, bank some cash, and have some control over his life. I think it would also give him less time to think about you and the baby he is being pushed away from. He needs to feel like he is capable. I think doing what I did, would help that process. Please forgive me, but you didn’t leave me a lot of choice here.
What a cluster fuck you left behind.
Your girl spoke with her father on Friday. He said she almost called him dad. I hope they are able to reconcile everything you two and the fighting created. I know that there are two sides, and I will never forget your side, and the things I DID learn on my own by going to court that day. I promise you that, but now, he is all they have left. They still have needs, my love.
I told your ex, that he was part of our last phone conversation. She asked what you said. I pondered telling her, but then did. I told her you said there was a lot of regret, and that if he had JUST trusted you, you would probably still be married, and living happily, though broke, together. I think this stunned her.
I am having to come to terms with the fact drugs were the major contributing factor of your stroke, along with the way you were NOT caring for your body, by oh, maybe….EATING, but choosing to live on coffee, and cigarettes. Will I ever be able to say those words, without feeling like I have betrayed you. Will I ever get over the guilt of not figuring out what you were doing? I mean, I feel fucking STUPID for not knowing what you were doing. But will I ever be able to say that you were a drug addict? It hurts my tongue and my heart to say this, or to “know” it as fact. I know that your toxicology screen, and the fact there were five drugs in your system, at levels that weren’t casual use, seem to say what I can’t.
On top of hurting, I really, really deeply want to break things, shoot things, burn things, and scream my mother fucking lungs out in the hopes that you “get” what you have left behind.
Were you happy at having people take your picture after the stroke? Are you happy that regardless of your facial reaction when your girl said she was going to cut a lock of your hair, that we both KNOW, your “mother” will do as she pleases?
I miss you and love you and forgive you, and always will…but god damn you.