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I changed the theme. I think it’s a push for me to start writing again.
I’m also going to write really honestly.
Here are some truths.
I miss The Girl. I am pretty sure she knows this. I’ve never stopped loving her, though I fear her intensely because at one time, she had the power, and used it to try and hurt me. It worked. I’d love to have a relationship with her, but I also fear it. Trust and all.
I am moving on in life after so many losses, but in all honesty if I die today, I am pretty OK with that. I don’t think I am courting death, but maybe I am. I’m not going to the doctor and I have some pretty serious things going on with my body. Do I ignore it longer and go till I drop, or do I go to the doctor?
I’m not really into more of the same. I have kind of had enough of the loss.
I am probably more closed off than ever, because to let anyone in that close would mean to trust, and I am very, very, very careful about who I hand actual trust to.
On the other side, I know the things I have experienced, seen and felt, to be true. It’s just that life hit me so hard I fell off the path. I’ve not gone back to that same hateful person, but there is this wall of protection around me and when you live like that, you aren’t really living at all. You’re sitting around, waiting for it to be done. My life has felt like the last act, of a bad play, that will not fucking end.
But still I am waiting. I don’t know for what, but I am waiting.
I’m thinking I know what I personally need to do, but I have procrastinated because to jump back into it means work and I know that with so much hidden emotion and denied feeling, it’s going to be heavy. It can’t be any heavier than keeping all this shit inside me, can it?
There are things I am totally happy about also.
I love my little apartment. I love that the things I do in my life, are mine. I do them when I want and no one criticizes me, tells me I am wrong, disapproves, or hits me.
I love my few friends I have kept. These are the people I trust and am comfortable with.
Yesterday, I read something I wrote a few moths before the stroke. How odd. As things were getting better and I was happy because of Mr. Yummy, my move, my job, my soaring spiritual awakening, there was a point I admitted I feared what was coming. In all honesty I seriously thought The Girl was about to make an appearance and I wasn’t sure I could do it. That would have been so much easier than losing Mel, Mr. Yummy and Arie. All within a short time span. Back to back. It felt so cruel. it made me ask if I was a good person? I sort of began to doubt my value. I forgot I am what I am and deserve what I deserve, as do you.
I talked to your cousin today. You know the one who is like your foster-brother.
I have wanted to text/call/Facebook him so many times and I just don’t, because of your uncle. I’m sure you know what a sticky situation that is.
Your cousin regrets that you didn’t know that you could be real with him. He then told me, since you trusted me, he would too. He told me the same thing happened to him then he named a few other names.
I love you.
I don’t know if you would approve of this friendship that is forming between your cousin and me. He has tons that he says he wants to say to me, and after all the crazy, and understanding why you kept friends and family separate, he feels safe. I told him about the horrible night. The suction night. The Gown night. How I wanted to kill someone and walking away. How upsetting it is to me, that this is the last time I saw your beautiful almond-shaped eyes. They did smile at me in those last days. I do find peace in that, but it just sucks that the last time we locked eyes, was in that moment of fucking of trauma.
I remember asking you if you could feel me or anyone holding your hand when we were sitting with you. You were still on the life support and unable to nod. You blinked your eyes, slowly. Twice. I asked you if you could squeeze my hand, and you did.
I also remember the night that I whispered in your ear about your daughter. Knowing you needed to say you were sorry to her, helping you to be able to do that and hoping that I gave her some kind of peace and ability to not blame herself for the boat YOU captained. I remember looking at you and hearing you try to push air out and seeing your lips trying to move. I heard an “Uhhhhh” sound. I watched your lips and could see you purse your lips like you were trying to get sound out. I realized you were trying to tell your daughter, “I Love You”. I asked you if you that was what you were trying to say. We were at the second hospice by then. No life support. You were able to nod yes. I wish you knew how beautiful that moment was.
Talking to your cousin today, we were contemplating a drink, which I am sure means a drink and a bowl. I told him I couldn’t see anyone till I clear up my scabies I brought back from Texas. We talked about that and then I said, I wonder what she would say to that. He didn’t miss a beat, other than he called you that name you told me to NEVER FUCKING CALL YOU. He said “She would be laughing her ass off.” I can’t even type your
fake family name.
I am sure, I will always be a little mad at you, but I can’t carry around what I have carried for a while now. I have to forgive it all. Mostly because I love you, but also because I understand, and know that forgiving you is what I will do in the end. I’d rather always love you and not hate you. You have always had the best of me and never judged the worst of me. And my secrets that I told you? Well you never spilled a single bean, judged me for them, and you took them with you. I will do the same with you. Except the one your daughter figured out. That cat is out of the bag, but she and I are the only ones who know. She wasn’t surprised.
Don’t take it the wrong way if I let myself forget some of the really bad that happened in Texas. Every bit of it sucked, but there were moments I thought I was going out of my mind.
Leaving you? Oh my fucking god. Each mile closer to the airport was horrible. I felt like I needed to stay till you were gone, but I had to get back to work. I changed planes somewhere. I don’t remember where. Maybe Utah? I stopped to get something to eat between flights. I was sitting at a table outside this burger place. I was trying to choke down some food and thinking, “Mel is dying and I am sitting here eating. Mel’s not dying. I wouldn’t leave her. The doctors are wrong. She can’t die…” it went on and on and under it all was the knowledge, that you my love, were gone from my life. There was one moment when I thought I was going to start screaming. I don’t know what I was going to scream, I just remember wanting to scream and knowing this could not be fucking happening.
Suddenly there was a man in my face. He smiled and looked at me and asked if I was alright?
I remember looking at him and nodding yes and then my lip quivered. My eyes got hot. I felt my crazy start to spin. He asked, “Did you lose someone?”
I managed to tell him my best friend was laying in a hospice in DFW and I was on my way home.
He talked to me and said words I don’t remember. I remember is calm, warm, smiling face. I remember realizing what he was doing and thanking him. He replied with, “I just gave you a place to get away for a minute.” I again thanked him. He gave me his card. I found him on Facebook a few weeks later, because I know water seeks its own level as does energy.
His name is Michael.
He was like my angel in that moment of insanity.
I miss you so bad and wish we could sit and talk about this. Maybe some day?
I don’t want to be ready to do that, but I won’t lie and say I haven’t thought about it and how absolutely easy it would be to just give up this time.
He doesn’t deserve that from me. He would hate me. Because I would just go pick one up, and use it. I love you, but I don’t hate myself enough to do that anymore. I know, one day I will feel you again, and that will be an awesome, awesome fucking day.
I get to work about an hour early, almost every day. If I don’t leave at the ass-crack of dawn, I miss the window of decent travel time and my commute doubles. I would rather sit at work, in my car and play games on my phone, set up a playlist, or just Facebook, rather than be in the commute from hell.
This morning was no different in routine than any other morning, other than when my production manager arrived to unlock, and I got out of my car to go in, I got instantly light-headed, I started hearing a “pulsing” and my legs became like rubber, with each step getting harder and harder to make, they were so heavy and out of control. I got to the edge of the building and held myself up. Got inside, got to a table and held myself up, clocked in and got to the break-room where I just sat and shook. My PM came around the corner, said good morning, then immediately asked what was wrong.
I told her, she replied that we are slow enough if I want to leave, I can. I was crying, she just kind of let me ramble, “I’ve been sick, my skin is either erupting in hives or psoriasis, I’m trying to deal with the fact my best friend was a drug addict and I had no clue, and what just happened scared the shit out of me. I just want my life back!”
I decided to stay and finish my list, then leave. As I was working it dawned on me that I always thought of Mel as the smart one, the strong one, the capable one. Well, taking so many drugs, the doctors are saying this is what caused the stroke, wasn’t smart. It wasn’t the strong thing to do and well, I am sure it was a major fuck up on her part. I just sat there thinking, “But YOU were supposed to be the strong one! I’m not sure if I qualify to be the strong one, the one who didn’t make choices that killed me.” But here I am, sad, trying to hide it, itching like crazy, and talking and sobbing in my sleep because I am terrified to let Mr. Yummy see my real emotion.
I just wanted to go to my spot on the beach and yell at her, “FUCK YOU BITCH!!! What were you thinking and did you have any clue that dieing would fuck so many people (me) up?!?! Would it have mattered? What the fuck were you doing and how did you think you could just push and push till your mother-fucking body couldn’t and wouldn’t take any more?” I bet you let out a giant, “Oh shit, I fucked up!”
How do I keep loving you and hating what you did at the same time? I’m so ANGRY. ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY,ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY. ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY. ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY,ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY. ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY,ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY, ANGRY!
I have to figure out how to have the conversation with the kids about things they are going to start hearing about their mother, the drug addict. If they weren’t pissed off before, they certainly will be now. Hearing people say this about their mother won’t be fun and I know the anger will be directed at who is saying it and not at their mother for doing drugs.
She doesn’t get permission to destroy me, FUCK THAT. I’ve worked too god damned hard to crawl out of the hole of negativity and hate to crawl back into it, but my hate garden has already been watered and now I need to fucking weed it as fast as I can so I don’t fall back down that dark hole.
All the “fighting” she did to keep her kids away from their dads was for nothing, because they are all split up and with different people now. Is that what you were aiming for Melissa?
I wish she would just take the pain and go away, leaving me with my pleasant memories, and feelings of love. Right now, all I can muster is “Fuck you, you thoughtless, selfish lying Bitch!” Yeah, that doesn’t make me feel good, because really, I loved her like no other and THAT is why I hurt. She is gone, and I haven’t moved into the grateful for the time and memories yet. Instead, I am having panic attacks and falling apart at the seams.
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.