Since Mel died, there has been so much fog, and so much haze. I have never had a loss like losing Mel and any loss after her was small change compared to her. It’s not that the people I lost since her weren’t horrible, but Mel was big, personal, traumatizing, and deep.
She was my major gut punch.
Mr. Yummy and PD were huge and painful, but they only piled on an already bad and dangerous pain.
I still love him. I always will, but I will never get over the way he just disappeared and ghosted me after Mel died. Telling me HOW to process and how the way I was doing it, was wrong. Fuck you, for that. Mr. Yummy will always be the one who evoked an emotion in me, like no other. But I already knew he was an asshole when PD said he was an asshole and she didn’t like him.
I didn’t like him much either at that time, but I could not at that time process the loss of him. I had to get to a dead point. By dead point, I mean my feelings for him went dead. I would have rather stayed with my sissy and the asshole she lived with, than be around him because he just hurt me. He was a big loss on a big loss. It just compounded my depression. I sat in his house with all those guns, alone, depressed, angry, sad, overwhelmed and wanting to not fucking feel the pain of losing Mel. I won’t lie. I had a gun in my mouth. I couldn’t leave that as the last memory Mr. Yummy had of me. In his house. with HIS gun. It would have been a delicious Fuck You, though.
PD sucked because she just compounded the loss by kicking my ass to the curb, the very day I decided that if Mr. Yummy wanted to be with me, he would make himself available to spend time with me. He wasn’t busy working like he said he was, He wasn’t off taking care of his grand-kids, and I know this to be true. He was running from me and my sadness and whatever else he didn’t have the balls to say to me. I finally realized that.
I cried prior to losing Mr. Yummy and PD. but once it was done, I just went dead to them. Being dead emotionally was easier than falling farther apart. It’s that simple. And this is a small moment of clarity to me.
It’s Friday night and time to wake and bake.
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 lost many things when I lost my best friend.
I lost security, my soul-mate, my strongest supporter, my confidant, my partner in crime, my favorite reason to laugh, my trust in many things, mainly letting anyone love me or get close enough that I might get hurt if they go away, the comfort of realizing that someone important has gone away, but thank the Creator they didn’t die and my ability to sit almost everyday and write.
I miss that creative outlet, but I realized that I read Mel EVERYTHING I wrote. My writings were part of our hours long conversations. In hindsight, it’s like in my mind I was always writing with her as my audience. I only read my writing to one other friend (and of course, my mother). I read it to no one now.
I am a different person today.
I have made a new friend. I’m tentative and cautious. I haven’t called her a friend to her face yet, but I love her. She’s my girl I have been the most honest with about who I am. She is my head expediter at work. There are only two of us who do this job as well as driving. She was out all week while her kids were on Spring break. Work, without her on a slow day is doable, but work without her on busy days or glitchy paperwork and labeling days SUCK. Yesterday was one of those days. I was so frustrated at having a work ethic so different from others around me. 90% of our mistakes could be eliminated if drivers checked their paperwork so they didn’t just take the food on their shelf assuming what was there, was all theirs. Mistakes do get made and when the expediters check and release the food for drivers to pick, the drivers sometimes help shelve the food. Sometimes I make a shelf mistake, sometimes Nette does, and sometimes drivers do. Check your pack slips to the food on your shelf as you load your van.
Nette text today saying she would be in Monday and she knew I must be burned out after a week without her. I updated her on yesterday and how I got so frustrated I went out to smoke and cried. Beneath it all was the old habit and desire to call Mel and vent to her all the anger and get it out, without saying shitty things to people I mostly like and have to work with. She came back with…”Well I’m not Mel, but I’m Nette and I always have an ear to listen and to vent at.”
It touched me and made me smile to feel like I have a friend again. She’s right. She’s not Mel and I wouldn’t want her to be. I like her as Nette.
Life does go on after a death like that, but for me it is different. It is…less, because I learned so much and lost so much.
Do I miss Mr. Yummy? No, I miss the idea of him like we were years ago, but that guy is long gone and the guy in his place is not the guy for me as I was not the woman of twenty years ago. Now I know.
Do I miss the living people I have lost? Some I do, some I don’t. That’s all I will say about that, because anything I say, could be falsely used against me because the WRONG people would think what was said about another, was said about them. Story of my life and without that kinda confusion, my life is simpler.
Two year and three months later, I am still crying. Not every day, but more than I imagined I would. I think the only thing that would impact me as much would and will be when my mother walks to the Creator. But today, she is here and I let her love me.
Every few months there are 5-9 of us that get together at the Spoon-Yielding-Tax-Preparers for haircuts. Our friend Perry comes over and does us all. It’s a good time. Most everyone (but me) drinks wine. All of us smoke some of The God Plant. In general it’s a good time.
Maybe it is the 85 degree weather, but I just took five inches off my hair. As we were talking The Hairdresser asked me why I looked like I belonged on a motorcycle today. I just laughed because, well, on a day like today, who doesn’t belong on a motorcycle?
I took a bunch of pictures of Abby and Cali, playing with a bone in the kiddie pool. Here is one:
They are my babies. I met them the first day they arrived to live with The Spoon Yielding Tax Preparer and they know I am one of their people. Cali looks like she has some Pitt in her and Abby looks like she has Newfie in her.
I was looking at photos and The Hairdresser saw a picture sent to me of my heart-throb. Now, I don’t even remember what he asked me about him, or what I said in response, but I can remember the sudden look on his face as he looked at me and said, “Oh my God, YOU want to marry this guy don’t you? I mean if not officially, you want it all, a long-term, committed, monogamous, forever kind of relationship! Don’t you?”
I was stunned. The Hairdresser knows me well enough to know from my reaction that I wasn’t saying “No.”
It’s hard to say yes to the marrying part, but yes, I do want a forever kind of thing with him. My heart has felt married to him for years anyway.
It was so strange to get called out so randomly and I was thankful it was just he and me in on the conversation.
I fell asleep last night while typing this. It was very hot yesterday for May 1st. 85 is easy for me to do unless the previous several months have been rainy and drab. They have been, and it was freaking hot last night. It’s now the next morning and I need my coffee and to shower and shampoo my freshly cut locks.
OK, since you want to see more, here are more picks of the girls.