Tuesday, August 11, 2009

f-f-f-f-funk.

disclaimer: i like to write. it helps me process. i like to be boldly honest. and i'm a dramatic person. you've been warned.

it happened a couple weeks ago. i'm not sure when to be exact. sort of like a black cloud settled in. the haze was confirmed when i was watching 'sex and the city' the movie, for the hundredth time, and i got teary at a part that i never get teary at. "crap."

i'm so used to waves of grief over the past three years that i immediately start going through the files in my mind. first i think, "am i missing mario?" then, "or my dad?" then, the why..."what holiday is it?" or, "what was i doing this time last year?" i thought and thought- nothing. in explainable.

my mom came up to rescue me the weekend before last. she's good medicine. we didn't do anything special. she was just....there. and for a moment, i felt stronger and less sad.

i talked to her the next monday. my wonderful, spirit-filled, intuitive mother. i was kind of down still, and she said to me, "i'm going to tell you something, because i haven't spoken up in the past and i've regretted it. so be patient as i tell you." in return, i listened, as i have not in the past, and too, regretted it. she nailed it on the head and it took me a moment to absorb the truth. in fact, i'm still absorbing it.

it's august. oh, august. i'm not sure of the last time i enjoyed an august. it's august when my dad stopped walking. or talking. when we went together to get our tattoo's. when i said my last of good-byes that he would be able to say a good-bye to me, in return. it was the last time that i would hear him tell me 'i love you.' (something i wish i had recorded.) it's also august when i began to acknowledge the truth of my very short marriage. that i would not be able to survive much longer under the circumstances. it's august when i would leave him for the first night- ever. to contemplate what i was going to do, and how long it would take me to do it.

august is my, 'brave face month'. i hate- august.

and that leads us to september. september, which is not far below the totum pole of august, but just enough to be in the lead of "the suckiest month". ever. september 29, 2006 was the day my dad died. september 21, 2008 was the day i had the balls to leave my husband. and, they weren't even my balls, but really that of those who were brave enough to step in front of me and make the hard choice. thank god, for them, i say. it was- an intervention.

september blows. i despise- september.

so here i am. a little more worn for the wear. maybe a lot? but still wearable. and as i said in the beginning of this ramble, i'm used to the waves of grief. it's just learning to swim when i feel like sinking. i guess it's really about thanking the Lord that He gives me the ability to figure myself out, and also the smart ones around me to help point that out. it's about choosing not to sleep, or eat, or drink, or do any of those really dangerous coping mechanisms people do in the midst of conflict and crisis. the one's that cause addiction and getting lost. boo, on getting lost.

so, for the next 8 weeks, i'm going to dig my feet into the Rock. and try and stay standing. and get out of bed. and go to the gym everyday even though i don't want to. and put on make-up. and not have ice cream or chips in my house. :) and get through it.

the anniversaries i care to not celebrate.
i wonder, will i ever like september or august? ever again?