Slipup

Today, I woke up and couldn’t shake Missouri from my mind. All day. I mostly slept, trying to reset my brain. But it didn’t work.

I know that I’m a lot of effort to be friends with, but they promised to never leave… they promised I’d have someone forever. And forever turned out to be so short. I just want to talk to them today.

Tonight is very difficult. Curling up in the cold under a comforter and trying to convince myself it was all just a dream. But I know better.

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Inducing

My sister is being induced sometime this evening. She’s a week late with my nephew, and so by tomorrow morning, the doctor thinks she’ll be ready to deliver.

One might think I would be excited, but then that person wouldn’t know me very well. I’m a huge mass of anxiety and depression, wanting but not wanting to meet him when he gets here. Knowing that his very existence could make my kid obsession a whole lot worse.

Wanting to vow to never see him. But I’m not a cold, ┬ácallous person. Of the three kids in the family, I have a timeline, six hundred something days now, and of course surrogates don’t grow on trees, so I am most likely never going to be a mother. Because I won’t bring another person into this world, knowing very well that they would most likely be at least partly as sad as I am. My therapist calls this choice not to procreate selflessness. I call it cowardice.

We don’t agree but it doesn’t matter. The night is very long already and there is nothing to fill my time with. There will be no sleeping tonight, I smoked but not enough to take an edge off because I am committed to my bed, my room ice cold, allowing me to cower under the covers like the coward I am. I am responsible for my own pain, this lack of having a child.

Way to fucking go kid. You have to ruin everything. 9 months and maybe then you’d stop complaining. But no, I have to be me. All the fucking time.

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Night Time

Night time is the worst. In the day time, I can mostly, most of the time convince myself that you aren’t worth missing. That my memory is failing me and we weren’t as good as I thought. At night, I have no one to talk with, to distract myself with. The house is too quiet, even with “The Office” on, and I relate too well to Bojack Horseman. No one is awake to chat with me, and all I can do is remember. In fragments. Exhausted.

There’s a party or something up the street, a man yelling “One, two, three, shot!” intermittently, they howl and laugh obnoxiously. Secretly i long to join them. Sedate me with alcohol.

I’m always the one worth leaving. People don’t bother to keep in contact and it hurts like fucking hell. It never gets easier. Neither does missing you at night when my head is exhausted and runs a race, forming a rut, the same thoughts and conversations repeated over and over and leaving me dazed and shell shocked.

Tomorrow, I think I’ll look into how to do yoga. Maybe that will do something.

But I won’t be getting any sleep tonight. You sleep peacefully, always a deep sleeper, and I never ever cross your mind. You cross mine all the time.

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A year ago

Facebook just had to pop up and remind me. Pop up and remind me that a year ago, I was so much happier.

I may be turning a corner but it’s taking forever to round the bend and I’m sick of getting bludgeoned with painful memories the whole time.

Not okay today.

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Turning a Corner

As much as I don’t want to jinx it, maybe I’m turning a corner. Instead of the first thought in my mind every morning, he’s more like the fiftieth. Maybe I’m turning a corner, maybe I’m getting better. At night, I can fall asleep without having to imagine myself wherever he is. He was never really that great after. Maybe, despite it’s best efforts, my brain will not win this one. He will not be the last thing I obsess about, and despite what my brain tells me, maybe his loss will not kill me, wipe me off the planet, reduce me to ashes. The corner is jagged and has spikes and barbed wire, spiders and pitch black darkness, but somewhere there is the other side, and on the other side, I don’t have to worry about him.

Maybe. I can safely obsess about other things now, more mundane things, like moving, and school, and getting an engine for my bike because I’m too much of a coward to get my driver’s licence. Maybe he can be a passing thought, looked upon almost fondly, before I am pulled away to obsess on something else.

I hope so. And i hope typing this and setting it aside does not send me spiraling again. Because my brain is exhausted from thinking about him.

The corner is jagged and has spikes and barbed wire, spiders and pitch black darkness, but somewhere there is the other side, and on the other side, I don’t have to worry about him. Not unscathed, but I’ll round the bend hopefully and it won’t hurt as bad. I can get stung by barbs and pricked by wire but as long as I get to stop thinking about him, I’ll be okay.

I’ll figure out the exact day later and put it on my next post, I don’t know how many are left. And today, I don’t really mind.

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Mystery Solved

The only people I really want to talk to, won’t talk to me. It’s still sinking in. My symptoms tend to push people away. It’s happened before and it will probably happen again. But it never stops hurting any less.

It’s like I have an evil twin, running around and ruining things. Because I can’t help it. My symptoms are what lead me to this blog and they are why I will probably die this way.

Maybe after I’m not such a hassle and have electricity shot through my head, maybe then you’ll talk to me again. Until then I wish them well.

I forgot what day this is. Too tired to do math. Sobbing too hard to see the keyboard. todat things could hardly be worse.

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Keeping the past in the past

I would do well to remind myself each time I stumble that the past is the past for a reason. There’s a reason that I stopped talking to certain people, or doing certain things. But time passes and leads me to forget, tells me that maybe my gut was wrong and that things could be different.

NO! I must tell myself over and over again. If they missed you, they would write or call, but they don’t so they won’t. The past is not for dwelling in if you miss out on today.

Things are..going. Not going good, but going. We are in the process of selecting a dog to train as a service dog and just haven’t found the right one yet, but we are making progress. That is something. And I’ll look into subsidies so that I can live in or around the city that I have wanted to live in for a long time, and it’s not so far from home. So I just have to be patient.

I don’t know exactly the source of it but the Buddha taught something that really resonates with how I am feeling lately, so I thought I’d share it here.

“Do not pursue the past.

Do not lose yourself in the future.

The past no longer is.

The future is not yet come.

Looking deeply at life as it is

in the very here and now,

the practitioner dwells in stability and freedom.

We must be diligent today.

To wait until tomorrow is too late.

Death comes unexpectedly, how can we bargain with it?

The sage calls a person who knows how to dwell in mindfulness night and day

‘one who knows the better way to live alone'”

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