#processing death

[kim-the-angry]

I saw Wakanda Forever today. 8/10, needs less parent death (my dad died last month). Beautiful movie with a super hot villain. Will definitely do a streaming rewatch if I can handle the constant reminders of processing the death of a loved one.

[gnosis-devotee]

I’m learning grief and endometriosis pain are pretty similar, at least for me. A constant dull ache with seemingly random bursts of intense sharp pain. The kind where you are uncomfortable for longer periods of time, but you can function well enough. Then occasionally moments where it’s overwhelming and all you can do is hovel over and wait it out. At least there is a surgery that helps with endometriosis pain though.

[postwifelife]

This song kicked me in the gut the first time I heard it. I think that when I'm old and my mind starts going, I'll forget that Jaime and I ever got back together. Seventeen years of separation and no one else ever measuring up, for not even three months? She'll go back to being the one that got away forever.

[postwifelife]

I have dreams about my wife here and there, none of them are good. The other night I dreamed we were all at a fair or carnival or something. She wasn’t with me, she was with her bestie and a third wheel, they just came ‘round to say hi to be polite I guess. The problem with all of these dreams isn’t that she isn’t with me. The problem is that she’s always messed up. In this one she was high as a kite, just floating along with the other two. Barely acknowledged me as she trailed behind her friends. My brain can’t even dream her up before she lost herself anymore.

She spent the last month of her life screaming at me. I realize it wasn’t her, it was the alcohol. Doesn’t matter what I know, every conversation I have with her now, even in my dreams, is an argument. It’s been almost all of 3 years, and her memory is still bitter.

[loamandbones]

Today I go get my Covid shot.

The weather is chilly so I'm wearing a fuzzy hoodie for warmth and Sensory stim.

It has a pouch pocket for my phone and cards.

My legs are covered in a complementary purple, too give my dark skin a nice look.

...

I hope to come back home alive. I hope to pass through the hospital doors safely and with ease. I hope the map layout is concise enough that I get to the location quickly and without unnerving anyone.

...

I wish I didn't have to consider these thoughts when I leave home.

[sexylazymercymama]

Kid says....

KO: “People have to die because if they didn’t the earth would get so full of people that the earth would get a really, really big tummy ache. And if there were a lot more people, there would be a LOT more bullies. There would be more nice people, too, but mostly bullies. People are mean when they’re squished. And if the earth has a tummyache, people would get cranky.” Me: WHAT. KO: I’m still sad Gramps had to die.

[ambrmichele]

(big breath.) This last month and a half was very hard for me and I'm ready to talk about it.

I have never been one to ask for help or allow myself to lean on anyone. I'm usually leaned on. I'm a natural nurturer. If you've known my love, you know this. I will go to the ends of the earth to make sure the people who matter to me are taken care of and feel loved. giving that love to myself in return has been a consistent struggle my entire life. I begin using alcohol, food, and women as medicine to mask everything that i'm feeling. i shut people out. i stop putting effort into my body and use food as comfort. Within the hour of finding out that she was dead, I began this cycle. While I'm aware of my incredible support system and I appreciate it in ways that I'll scream about until my lungs give out-I needed to feel everything that I was feeling. I needed to not do anything in this world but face those feelings. I assured the people in my life that I would reach out when I was ready, and that I was in a safe place.

It's not coming from a place of guilt to understand that there are conversations that I should have had. I am not self blaming when I explain my awareness that I didn't show up for my friend in ways that could have made a difference. When she reached out to me asking to borrow money, and I knew that her story was bologna I didn't call her out on it. I didn't have a conversation with her that I wish I had. I'm never going to stop wishing that. I do understand that she would have found money and I can't change what happened. I do understand all of this in a logical way. Stop telling me not to focus on it. It's not a negative feeling to know that I need to be better.

survivors guilt has been hard on me in a way that feels like an actual physical weight. i feel heavier with this sadness. i feel like my bones are made of concrete some days. there are moments that i lay on my living room floor listening to records that we loved, and for the first time in my life i want to believe in spirits and ghosts. i want to know that she's laying next to me and can feel how much i loved her. and then there are moments that i'm talking to someone who makes me feel so wonderful and i'm laughing at things that theyre saying and it hits me that if spirits are real and she's laying next to me when i'm sad, maybe she's standing there watching me hysterically laugh and move on from missing her. and it breaks my heart to imagine her standing behind a window of my life watching me laugh and she can't. and i crawl back into bed and i allow that misery to set back in.

i am getting so much better than i ever have about communicating where I am and what I need. This morning I didn't crawl back in bed when those feelings started making their ways into my skin. I ran up Tabor and I felt smitten with the way that a rainy portland morning made me feel.

Things are really hard.

I miss you in a way that isn't fair. I've felt physically ill since finding out. my body hurts when i think about how alone you must have felt that morning. I wish I had one of your shirts to sleep in and smell you. I wish that I had bought you that plane ticket and you had been with me instead of in that bathroom. I miss the sound of your voice when you've had more than two beers and you get real country. i miss telling you that i wish you'd stop smoking. i wish you had stopped smoking.

i respect your family so much and understand that they're processing these things in even deeper ways than i am, but i hate that it's not being talked about. i hate that there are people who still don't even know that you're gone. i hate that i don't have more voicemails on my phone from you because the ones i play over and over are my favorite sound.

i'm so grateful for the people around me who have been patient and respectful of the space that i've needed. i'm so grateful to have a job i enjoy going to and i'm able to feel warm at. i keep getting messages from people saying "you sound so sad lately." I am sad. and that's not a bad thing. it's not bad that i'm allowing these feelings to be swollen right now. i'm not masking them. i'm not putting them in a box and pretending i'm okay. and i need you to understand that that is growth for me and i'm going to be sad for a long time. i need you to appreciate that i'm able to vocalize that sadness and it's a big deal that i am. i am the luckiest girl for how much love i have in my life. i am so grateful. and i'm so so so sorry if i haven't been a very good friend back. i'm doing the very best that i can right now and i promise that i'm taking care of myself. thank you for continuing to reach out and being patient with me.