I haven’t been writing, because I fell in a hole again.
In five days, I “bury” you at your memorial. I definitely feel like I am going to watch other people say good-bye to you, because I don’t think I’ll ever say good-bye, even though you need to let me go.
I dreamed of you all last night, woke up with a few tears falling and heard myself saying good-bye, but don’t go yet. I am scared this is going to be an emotional and hard week.
You told me (?) that was you and that you did come to me that night to show me how you were seeing things and what your reality would be on life support. I wish it wouldn’t have freaked me out when I realized you were with me. I wish I hadn’t gasped and said “MEL!”, and then woke up.
I miss you.
Please let go of me a little. I know that sounds weird coming from someone who will never let you go all the way, but you can’t keep hanging onto the part that makes me ache. I need to remember our friendship and love and not the last two weeks of your life and death.
There is so much love.
The birthday card you gave me the second year we were friends, you signed it Sick n Sin and told me you loved me. The day I finally stopped lying to you about my bruises, stitches, and marks. Unconditional was your support and love. When The Girl went away. Not once did you tell me to get over it, move beyond it or, put it away. You didn’t care that ten years went by and I was still hurt, angry, self-destructive and not done grieving. You never asked me to hurry it up. You never asked me not to be angry at Jack, or hurt by the same. When The Girl came back, you were as happy for me, as I was. When I talked to you about my fears, what DO I talk to her about, and what do I NOT talk to her about. You understood and supported me in NOT bringing up that Superbowl Sunday, till she seemed ready to remember or talk about it.
When I wound up with The Knuckle Dragging Face Breaker and he broke my face, you didn’t judge me. You didn’t ask if I didn’t see the red flags or tell me how fucking stupid I was for moving in with another abuser. You told me he was an asshole, that you would like to put your concealed weapons permit to use, and that you loved me. When I told you, the night you had the god-damned-mother-fucking-fucking-fucking-fucking stroke, that I regretted not making a police report, you reminded me that I could still do it, and you would support me through it, because…you loved me.
When I wound up talking to Mr. Yummy again, you were happy for me, and you because you got to have a sex life, vicariously through me. When I was on my way to his house, that first time again after fifteen years, and I took the wrong turn and was freaking out, you were reminding me to breathe, and that you loved me. When I told you the next day about the previous night and how nice it was, and then about him still having my hemp shampoo after 15 years, you laughed and told me you KNEW that it meant he still had feelings for me and you KNEW there was still a seed there for the love we once had. I didn’t think twice about you saying that till I was in Texas after the fucking, fucking, fucking stroke and I found the hemp hand lotion I had given you 15 years ago was still in your drawer. I knew instantly that you saved the bottle because I gave it to you, and you loved me.
There’s so much love.
I think of you every day. I try to think of the good times, the fun, the laughs, then special quiet times we had, the wake n bakes, the trashed dancing. Honestly though…the shit is still flinging itself off the fan blades 7 months later.
I think of the many examples I saw in Texas that just brought such absolute pain to me. When your medication was withheld, and you were in fucking pain because someone ELSE had an issue with you having morphine too often. I mean heaven forbid you might get addicted as you lay there dying in pain. I asked the staff when you were last given pain management and was told 5 hours. I didn’t know if I should choke “HER”, or the staff, but you can damn well make sure I told them to give it to you, and they did. Knowing you were photographed in NICU really pissed me off and I wonder all the time, if you were aware when it was done, because if you were, you were fucking hurt and pissed off by that. You would have never violated anyone like that when they were hooked up to life support. You’d have bitched at the person and insist it was deleted. I saw so much and learned so much, and I realize now why you never mixed certain people.
I more than ever understand your pain, why we were the best of friends and family, why you did some of the things you did. I am so sorry I couldn’t fix your pain any more than you were able to fix mine.
But it was you and it was me. We were so close in spite of our wounds. I know that I’ll never have a friend like you again, and I am OK with that because you were my kindred, sacred, soul-mate. I was so lucky to have found you, and to be part of each others world for 25 years of our lives.
I am having such a hard time without you girl. I got blocked from Facebook, because of that illegal name I had. I never used my real name when signing up and regardless of the fact some people have REASONS for anonymity when a social media service makes it easy for someone who broke your face to find you. I refuse to give them my real name, so I guess no more Facebook for me. It’s been almost a week. I don’t really miss it and find it really fucking funny that no one has noticed me gone. Today though, I just realized that this will only make it easier for me to isolate myself, not pick up my phone, not reach out.
I’m pretty sick too. I think I might have pneumonia. I know I should go to the doctor, and should have a week ago when I coughed up a mouthful of bright, fresh blood after a coughing fit that pushed my parting gift rib injury from my ex-husband, back out of whack. Mr. Yummy said he thought I hemorrhaged something in my throat while hacking. Since my throat immediately hurt afterwards, I believe him. But still, I haven’t gone to the doctor.
I am not in crisis, but I’m not here. Part of me is just dead. I don’t know how to “be” without you, because you were such a part of me. I was closer with you, than any romantic relationship I have ever been in. You were just, part of me. You still are, I just don’t “feel” you anymore because I am dead or in pain. Is this ever going to end?
I love you and I miss you.
Fuck if things aren’t hard. I take eight steps forward and fall back seven. I cried on the way home today for the first time in a long time. My life is so shattered. How can it be that this is sidelining me so fucking hard?
I’m up to my what’s it with Mr. Yummy. I feel a fool. I’ve been in love with him for 15 years and here I am living with him and I feel so cast aside. I told him I feel like he doesn’t even like me. He says he does, but the thing is…I have become a friend. I’m an old friend that he happens to fuck. I don’t ask him for much, and as more time goes by, I ask for less. I feel…negated.
How much of this is because I lost you, and how much is because we will never be what we were before?
I can’t do this Mel. I hear myself say, “I don’t stay where I am not wanted.” I feel the ramping up of the “bolt” but I am so aware that I ran before so I refuse to run, and I stay somewhere that I have become sad, miserable and worst of all, lonely.
I want to give up. This is the first time I have said this to another living soul. I don’t feel good.
That’s all for now.
I fucking miss the world out of you and I am hating on life right now.
I never thought I would live to see certain things.
I never thought I would live to see a black president. We both saw that.
I never thought I would see marijuana legal. We both lived to see it legal in MY state, it has yet to go nationwide, but we saw the start, together.
I never thought I would live to see the day when gay and lesbian couples could marry. I lived to see it. You did not. And you didn’t live to see us finish the fight for transgender folks. You knew that for me, the fight wouldn’t be over with just partial equality, right? I have a partner in that fight. You know her, in fact you molded her and her sense of fairness is a direct reflection of you. How I love you both.
I miss you, but I am starting to smile and laugh more and more my love. I DID talk to you this morning about something. I said it out loud out on the porch, because I can’t say it here. I hope you heard me, in the vast state of everything you are now. I think of how, if your energy returned to our source, that now instead of being petite and tiny, you are huge and massive now. You’re part of everything, from the tiniest particle to the largest part of Universe. So I assume you heard me in one way or another, and you will do what you can.
Mr. Yummy came home last night and he’s gone again today. He literally came home in time to go to bed, but somehow, we managed to have fun regardless. He’s gone back to The Island today to continue working on the food truck he went to Texas to get right after you died, for his daughters business. She gave a guy 30 grand to do the electrical. Guess who is out fixing his work now?
I’m getting used to the fact that he’s gone a lot in the summer and I’ll get most of my best snuggles come the fall and winter. I also am feeling more comfortable with the whole touching thing again. It was the night before he took off to start work on the daughter’s truck, only I didn’t know he was leaving the next day. I was laying there having anxiety wanting to reach out and just hold his hand as I fell asleep and having total anxiety over it, so I told him as much. He sighed and told me I worry too much. Then he reached out and grabbed my hand. I would have been happy just holding hands, but when his hands wandered, all bets were off. We are so good there. Always have been. I just hope we catch up to being as good in other areas. Surprisingly, I’m doing well with my own insecurities and facing them down.
Still I miss you. Friday after the SCOTUS handed down their decision I was at work thinking, “I can’t believe you didn’t live to see this…or menopause, but mainly THIS. I started to get weepy. Carrie, the production manager came in and said the company wants to take a #LoveWins photo for instagram. It made me cry when she told me just because of the timing of wishing I could share the Historical moment with you. I explained, she gave me a hug and if you look close in the picture, you can see the tissue still in my hand. I am SO proud to work for the company I work for. I give you…my work tribe.
If a government is able to show more compassion than your church, maybe you should join another church
Welcome back to the blogging world!
Originally posted on Margaret and Helen:
Margaret, the news has just been fast and furious this week. One fugitive dead and one still on the run. ISIS attacks in France, Kuwait and Tunisia. Donald Trump becoming the new leader of the Tea Party. I wonder what flag that Confederacy of Dunces will fly now that the Stars and Bars is being removed? Oh and something about a trade bill being passed and God hating America. That last one seems to be getting the most play over on Fox News. Never in my life did I think I would live long enough to see the gays persecuting the Christians instead of the other way around. That was actually a Fox Exclusive!
I read somewhere that Glen Beck has 10,000 to 20,000 pastors ready to die before gay marriage would become legal. Funny. I haven’t seen any obituaries printed. Religious conviction has its limits I guess…
View original 123 more words
So, I did something I am sort of shocked at, but don’t regret. I invited Jack, as in ass (I’m using that because you know who I am talking about, not to insult him) to your memorial. Your uncle sent the invites so he can’t reply to me. He will either show up, or not and I won’t know till the day of your memorial. I didn’t tell your uncle to include The Girl, or not. I didn’t even address it. My only real thought was him, and the fact that you, your ex, my ex, and you, were all good friends for a while and I just feel he should know.
If he comes, I will say the things I have wanted to say since 2011. If he doesn’t come, those things won’t change, I will just have to live with knowing he doesn’t know.