Well....
I feel: like my ass hurts
Click & Comment Monday went over like some cheap heels at a debutante ball. I guess I just don't get enough traffic for it to be fun.
Also, (welcome Captain Obvious) I've totally redone my blog. If anyone cares to give their opinion, feel free to opine away. I'm pretty proud of it, considering on the first try I fucked it up somehow and all I could see was a page of code (HTML for me is like playing baseball. I never played baseball.). So, I had to start completely over from scratch.
Not much else to say except that I'm still trying to get over David's death. I've never had someone that close to me die before, so I'm in totally unfamiliar territory. Some days, I feel fine. Some days are shit. (Yesterday was pretty bad.)I seem to wind up crying at least once a day every day because some little thing I see or hear makes me think of David. What's weird is that it doesn't even have to be directly associated with him or my memory of him. It only has to be slightly peripheral to start the waterworks.
I'm still not eating regularly. I'm drinking way too much coffee and, oddly enough, sleeping too much. That's one of my trademarked avoidance tricks. Just sleep and everything goes away. For awhile at least. But there are times when I just can't go to sleep. I just lay in bed comtemplating how the blown paint stuff on the ceiling looks like a bunch of zits and how much I hate the way it looks (I had particularly bad skin as a teenager. The ceiling reminds me of that. I know it's weird, but I just can't help it.). Then I start thinking about how I'd like to wallpaper it,how to get that blown shit off the ceiling and how much that would cost, the fact that I have no money...this goes on and on and on. A seemingly endless list of inane thoughts that go through my head when I'm really trying to go to sleep.
The worst thing, though, is when I'm trying to go to sleep and I keep reliving memories of one or more of the rapes that happened to me or one or more of the times my parents were particulary nasty to me or beat me. I can't even describe the hurt and rage that I feel laying there in bed thinking about that stuff. When it comes, I try to push it back down. I try so hard.
Click & Comment Monday went over like some cheap heels at a debutante ball. I guess I just don't get enough traffic for it to be fun.
Also, (welcome Captain Obvious) I've totally redone my blog. If anyone cares to give their opinion, feel free to opine away. I'm pretty proud of it, considering on the first try I fucked it up somehow and all I could see was a page of code (HTML for me is like playing baseball. I never played baseball.). So, I had to start completely over from scratch.
Not much else to say except that I'm still trying to get over David's death. I've never had someone that close to me die before, so I'm in totally unfamiliar territory. Some days, I feel fine. Some days are shit. (Yesterday was pretty bad.)I seem to wind up crying at least once a day every day because some little thing I see or hear makes me think of David. What's weird is that it doesn't even have to be directly associated with him or my memory of him. It only has to be slightly peripheral to start the waterworks.
I'm still not eating regularly. I'm drinking way too much coffee and, oddly enough, sleeping too much. That's one of my trademarked avoidance tricks. Just sleep and everything goes away. For awhile at least. But there are times when I just can't go to sleep. I just lay in bed comtemplating how the blown paint stuff on the ceiling looks like a bunch of zits and how much I hate the way it looks (I had particularly bad skin as a teenager. The ceiling reminds me of that. I know it's weird, but I just can't help it.). Then I start thinking about how I'd like to wallpaper it,how to get that blown shit off the ceiling and how much that would cost, the fact that I have no money...this goes on and on and on. A seemingly endless list of inane thoughts that go through my head when I'm really trying to go to sleep.
The worst thing, though, is when I'm trying to go to sleep and I keep reliving memories of one or more of the rapes that happened to me or one or more of the times my parents were particulary nasty to me or beat me. I can't even describe the hurt and rage that I feel laying there in bed thinking about that stuff. When it comes, I try to push it back down. I try so hard.
posted by Anais Nin at
5:08 PM
2 Comments:
I came across your blog from blogger chicks. I wish that I had some great comment to leave, but I don't. I just couldnt' read this post and not say anything. I'm sorry about your loss.
Thank you for being so kind, Tracie. I feel like I'm doing a bit better today.
I don't think anyone really knows what to say to someone who has lost someone they love. When I saw David's wife the night he died, at the wake and then at the funeral, I had no idea what to say to her. I just hugged her a lot, gave her my phone number and told her to call me no matter what time it was or for whatever reason.
David was the first man to treat me as more than just tits and ass. He was, dare I say, chivalrous. He was the first man to really see me. He was my brother. I love him still.
Tracie, your kindness is so appreciated. I can't tell you how much.
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