#ithinkimightneedhelp

[bonnie-death]

So, I legitimately was just one night waiting for sleep to come to me when I suddenly started thinking about Greenland and Iceland since I had just seen a Countryhumans video with them before putting down my phone. But then I started thinking about their names in portuguese (my native language) and how similar they were to their english counterparts (Greenland=Gronelândia, Iceland=Islândia). It was then that my sleep deprived brain started working and I realized that if you change the “o” and “n” for two “e”s you get Greenlândia (“lândia” is basically just a way of saying “land” when it’s applied to country names) and if you change the “s” for a “c” and then add an “e” after you get Icelândia, and my mind was completely blown. I immediately scrambled for my phone and texted my findings to my best friend, and her reply was, and I quote “The things you think about at 3 in the morning.” And to be honest, I don’t think I could have ever thought of a better response.

[off-briefer]

On Losing It at Work

Sitting here at work, working, typing, re-typing, thinking, my thoughts get the better of me.

She’s still in that hospital bed, she’s still in pain. And we’re there. Watching her fade in and out of sleep, in and out of pain, in and out of conscious thought and scrambled missives about her surrounding reality; thinking the view of the street outside her window is a landing strip for the airport, thinking she’s at her friend Barbara’s house, working for the Mother’s Club at the school we grew up attending, thinking that she wants to go home, thinking that we don’t need to be there. 

My thoughts get the better of me and I begin to cry. Silently, I hold my breath so I don’t make any sound, and tears come, and I wonder what I’m doing here. Why did I come back to work the day after we buried her? Why did I come back so quickly?

I sit here and cry and I feel more alone than I’ve ever felt, surrounded by people. No one sees me, no one hears me, they see, if they look, me concentrating on my screen. They can’t see my face. They can’t know what I’m feeling. They can’t know what I went through. I tried to be strong, these two months since I've come back to work. I’m 45 for fuck’s sake. I should be able to handle this. 

But she’s gone. And I was there every second she endured losing her life for 55 days. I reached out to people here at work, then. All that time I looked to them for some type of escape during. I think I out texted my welcome. I feel very very solitary here, like I said, in a room filled with people. 

I do not know what to do. She’d know what to do. But I, I don’t.