I haven't been sleeping well lately. My sleeping schedule has been way off. I can't ever seem to get any sleep or actually get "sleepy" til around 3. But lately it has mostly been out of frustration. I'm frustrated and emotional about my mother even though I refuse to let myself "feel" anything substantial. What are the five stages of grieving again...Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, & Acceptance? I dunno...I guess I'm in the Denial stage. When my father told me I did shed a few salty water drops but nothing substantial. I think I was focused more on making him & myself laugh more than anything. And I am truly thankful for my guest being over cause when I found out about my mother's condition, (Which if you are on the blog preferred list you know and if you wanna know feel free to email me) its one of those times I just didn't wanna be alone and I didn't wanna be around family. I was thankful he listened to me rant, incoherently at times, and let me attempt to cry. Why he was the one of all people to be around when I found out I'll never understand. But I won't think to much on it cause in the end the answer always is "everything" happens for a reason. It was just a moment I'm greatful (Is that grate or greatful? (Sp?) for.
Yesterday, I started my new "old" job. My father advised against it for my mental health but choosing my own path I still went and started. If I took the day off then I’d drive myself crazy with the silence. The awesome news is I got my health bene's back. I got my retirement back. I got everything back. And in a strange way, I was a little sad to be back. Someone asked me how it was to be back yesterday when I got home, I just thought to myself…pleh, I’m back where I started…said nothing and shed another few salty drops. In all reality, I should be eternally grateful getting my job back and I am. At the same time and with the circumstances I am in now…it’s not where I wanted to be at this moment. I’m not completely over the happenings of this summer. Not just with my mother but with what happened in general. I’ve come to realize that despite my greatest efforts, I never really dealt with the anger I had/have for what happened. I still have this victimyness about it even though I’m never a victim. I keep telling myself that. I have what I have now cause this is what I choose. I am single and alone cause this is what I choose. It’s the best thing for me. I just wish I knew exactly what I could say to have it go away. But then again…in due time…everything happens for a reason.
When I got home from my first day I had managed to make it through the whole day without crying. Scratch that…I told my ex whom I work with about it cause he’s just as much apart of my family as anyone. He cares about my mom and gets to know. It’s funny, (but not funny) but I was really convinced I wasn’t worried or sad about it…but when I said the words…I found I couldn’t without breaking down. “My mother…6 months to a year…*que waterfalls*.” And with his patented optimism, Ooooooooooh it’ll be alright…she’s going to be okay….*insert Navajo antidote here*. And for that I appreciate him as much as ever for continuing to be in my life. As much as that boy manages to push my buttons, I love that shit out of that fucker. After I told him I didn’t think about it much more really. I went through the day…again flashing my signature smile and again through all the welcome backs. Thankful when the clock struck 5 and time managed to pass quickly that day. I embarked on my first walk back home from work. I managed to get a few zzz’s on the metro. I woke up just in time to get off @ Dupont. I proceeded with my daily Sudoku while walking up the escalators. When I got off, I was immediately barraged with some political campaign to get Dick Chaney’s evil plot to destroy America in the forefront of American Idealism. My Idealism…on my fucking time and in the middle of my Sudoku. As a concentrated on my puzzle, I tried to walk unassumingly to the corner but was confronted by an angry activist. As I stood there minding my own biz and losing myself in my new found addiction…he was like…why are you doing puzzles. I was like…Um…because I can. The he said “How are doing puzzles going to get Dick Chaney out of office”. I replied, it’s not meant to and I’ll do whatever the fuck I wanna do on my own time kthnxbi. He tried to shove his un-recyclable pamphlet in my hands but I just looked at him, rolled my eyes and walked across the street. What a dumfuck? All I wanted to do was finish my Sudoku, go home and curl up and die, fuckin mood ruiner!
I walked home more than annoyed and wondered if the annoyance was really about him. I walked and was greeted by my guest. He asked about my day and I said it was fine. Then all of a sudden…like I was free to let go…I went into the bathroom and hyperventilated. I made myself purge the afternoon’s lunch and cried a little more. Not on purpose mind you. It was like I was watching myself have a breakdown and I couldn’t stop it. It only lasted all of five minutes but I’m sure it concerned my guest. I felt a little better and well enough to ask if he wanted this daily slurpee. To which, there will never be a no. And so we went for a walk. I needed to get out…I needed to move around. Our conversation consisted of very little. Usual back and forth banter. On the way back we pondered what to do for dinner. The frybread I had promised him a many time on the forefront of the mind, we decided on Indian Tacos. Mmm Mmm Mmm…NDN taco’s. It was impromptu and we had to use what was at the little metro store but all in all it came out okay. I tried another frybread recipe cause somewhere it was dubbed “the greatest frybread recipe in the world”. So it wasn’t mine. When I saw how much baking soda was to be used, I sorta cringed. But as an avid rule follower when it comes to recipes…I did what it asked. The dough came out okay. It was just a little thick for my taste but all in all the fluffiness was good. I’ll probably revert back to my own recipe next time but with a few added touches I learned from that recipe. I had fun doing it. I think it was the first time I made a real meal in my own kitchen. Regardless, dinner came out okay. I was nervous. I love my cooking but I’m always afraid others won’t like it. C’est la vie.
The night progressed into some intense T.V. watching. The Monday night double header was on the agenda, the Redskins & Cowboys…but toward the end of the night I have to watch my beloved Laguna Beach. I just love their drama. After Laguna I looked over and noticed my friend was asleep…I took that as a cue and fell asleep my damn self. I managed an hour before I awoke with a heavy heart. I tossed and turned for 2 hours. I finally had to get out and go for a walk. When I walked outside I called Benji and when he answered I just started bawling about my mom. I cried all the way to CVS and back. He listened and engaged some really good advice. He calmed my heart once more and once again…heavy heart lifted for time being. I went back and manged to actually get some sleep. Again, I was grateful for yet another night of not having to be alone. I slept well and welcomed dreaming once more.
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