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Sometimes

Sometimes, there is freedom in being told to fuck off.

It has taken me a long fucking time to find my peace, regardless that I would prefer a different outcome, but I am here.

I’ve taken my depression into my own hands. Micro baby steps, but after a week, I know I am doing the right thing and am going to continue with my current course. Sometimes it is better to listen to yourself, AKA, your gut.

It is funny, that I have become the mother to other women’s children. I was told this would happen to me, when I was really young. 17 years old and I was told I would have a child, but that child would not be mine, that I would be the mother to the world’s children. Here at 51, I have 5 other kids, aside from the one I gave birth to and two of them have a child.

These other children who have found a way into my life, love me for ME.

So, I’m moving forward, sure in what I am doing and curious to see what life is going to bring me in this new chapter of a new and different/changed me.

I read a card in the grocery store today. It is something I would have sent Mel. I felt that deep pang and loss of having my best friend here in the world, but I didn’t break down and cry. After mourning her for so long, I feel like I am sort of mourning the loss of something people take for granted every single day, a best friend. Maybe someday I will connect with someone again and, if I do, I will be grateful, and a better friend because I have known the best.

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The Brighter Side (yes, I guess there is one)

I’m starting to feel again.

Last night Mr. Yummy made me laugh. That was the third time I have laughed and felt it since Christmas day of 2014.

I still am having good days and bad days. Some of the bad days are REALLY bad and some of the good days, are pretty good. I will take that because at least it’s not all just this soul crushing loss. That’s good, right?

Mr. Yummy said that at this age, we should be sort of used to it, but you my love, were my first very, very, close loss and it was more devastating than anything I have known. It has been worse than the loss of my daughter, because I know she wakes each day and takes air into her lungs.

Can you believe that?

You were there every step of my journey with her. You saw it all including the years and years of self-torture I put myself and others around me through. You never left my side though, and you unconditionally loved me through it and saw me coming out of that fucking hole to taste happiness. You saw the beginning of my shine, and we both marveled at how bright I had become. So since I am telling you, that your death was harder than what you watched me go through for years, imagine how hard this has been for me. I am by no means saying I am through feeling this loss. I will always feel it, but I am seeing a light and the end of this total isolating tunnel of sadness, mourning, and grief I have been stuck in.

I hope the things I am doing after your death are right. I’m just trying to get through the memorial, and then I’m taking my life back from the people who call themselves your family. I know you love a few of them, but I just can’t keep up any type of interactions once I go watch other people say good-bye to you. I’ll eventually let you go, but I’ll never say good-bye, because you are still with me. Today I “felt” you in the dip room with me. Perhaps as more happy memories of our damn near 25 years together, return to my thoughts, I will “feel” you more.

That was probably one of the more horrible things, I couldn’t really remember any of the good times, everything was swallowed by the darkness of surrendering to the loss of you. To think of your true laughter, was something so elusive, and all I could see was the laughter I managed to give you in NICU and Hospice. Though those moments of laughter that we shared between us, will remain precious as fuck, it is the moments of you laughing full, loud, open mouth, head back, and hair loose, that will remain my companions also and I was afraid that none of those memories would come back. They are starting to.

As always, I miss you and love you and forever we will be sick n sin.

Love

My constant.

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?

Love.

I wrote this sitting in my car, in the dark, waiting for work to open last Thursday morning.

Empty/Drained

empty-gas-guage

I want to choose the word carefully, because there is a big difference between them.

I just realized today is the 18th. That means it is my 3rd trip around the sun, since I went crazy. Anyway…

I don’t necessarily feel empty, but I do feel drained. This situation has been going on since I moved in with my sister and the way it played out wasn’t pleasant. I just need it to be over, need to have a little distance, and need to get a good breather in so she and I can talk again.

I can’t say that the guy who hacked her, wouldn’t have done it, even if she didn’t draw things out, or even if she had been more honest with him. We will never know this, but I do know, it wasn’t long after I moved in, that I started getting weird vibes from him.

I don’t know her new guy, the fiance. He lives East of the mountains here. I understand when the bitter ex went whack-o on her, that it scared her. I wish she wouldn’t have so easily run off, leaving me know nothing really for so many months. I’m sad about stuff, and believe she and I will work it out, but I am just drained and really trying to come to terms with being here at Mr. Yummy’s house. I’m breathing though.

I have so many things to do still before Sunday, yet I awoke with an icepick jamming into my left eye. I took my very last migraine pill which I have been hoarding forever and stayed at Mr. Yummy’s. I saved this pill specifically to use on my last migraine ever. Guess this was it. I don’t have body aches, so I am pretty sure it is not the flu, but I have been feeling run down lately. I just keep hoping once I make the move final and have everything out, I can take the days that I will not be working due to the holidays and rest. I will worry about what to unpack and where to cram things later.

Maybe I will even stop worrying that one day Mr. Yummy will look at me and ask, “Jeebus, what have I done?”

In a way I am scared shitless because I got exactly what I asked for. I DID ask the Universe to bring him back to my life. I love him in a way I have never loved anyone and I feel this need to protect him, from me. Does that make sense?

Example.

Here I have moved in, but I don’t know what we are doing. I asked him if I had a time line I had to be out by, he didn’t answer. I don’t want to unpack every single box I have, set up like a happy little couple and pretend we are going for it if I have to pack up and leave here, and him. I don’t want to offend him and take his offer of help, as something he might not be looking for. Do you see how the neurotic takes over and starts to “what if” me?

I know my favorite time of the day is bed time, when I get to spoon up next to him and breathe him in as I fall asleep. My least favorite time of day is 4AM, when I get up and have to crawl out of his bed and start my day, and yet I love my job, where I go, what I do.

In time, I will have to meet the fiance, but I won’t be talking about the things that have rocked my world the last seven months. These things are my sister’s choice and well…I don’t need my words on a blog being used against me again by anyone in my family…so I just hope that time and distance from all the drama will help this feeling go away.

I am grateful I reacted to my life’s traumas three years ago, by going crazy. I am hopeful that everything I went through so intensely during that spiritual awakening, is helping me make the right choices as I navigate, instead of impulsively reacting to things. I know I have handled everything this last year in a way I have never been able to do, and mostly, it was without great effort. I DO NOT want to go back to that person again. I will not step back into being that person who allowed fear to control my life.

So, here I go. Lets see how long it takes me to do this other I want to do.

The Place Where Dreams Happen

Dreaming

I know that dreaming is essential to sanity. When REM sleep is interrupted, people go insane. The brain needs that time to defrag and process the waking life.

But is the place of dreams real? Are those experiences just our life in another dimension? That place feels just as real as my waking life, but I know that reality, is just an “illusion” and that we have a greater hand in constructing this illusion, than we realize.

So what is this place of dreams, and what do my dreams from last nights, fitful, broken slumber mean?

I ask this, while having under my belt, at least 30 years of dream interpretations.

Does it just mean, today is one of the two’s birthday and I’m thinking of it all? Does it mean the other of two was thinking just as hard of me as I was dreaming of her?

I’m frightened of what I feel is coming, even though I have created this. I can scroll back to the post I wrote about it all.

One of the things that is starting to happen, now that I have been at the creating thing a few years, is that creations, create faster than when I first started.

I also told Mr. Yummy about the next step in my Spiritual Journey. I didn’t tell him that’s what it is, just like I’ve told you, the reader, the next step is coming, but I haven’t told you what the step is.  I thought today was the day, but after last night, I woke and knew it is not today. I’m too caught up in my head now and wondering about this place where dreams happen. It felt so real and today my head knows it was “a dream” but my heart also knows that it, is feeling the emotion. The emotion wasn’t fake. It was real and exists.

I know one thing.

I have my next tattoo planned. I know the EXACT image, placements, and words. I think that this, will be the step after the next step. It’s all about doing and being

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