I’ve gone a long time without a post, even for me. Without making excuses, I’ve had a lot of stressful crap come up lately and have been drowning doing my best to keep my shit together.
My godmother, Sondra, died last Saturday. It was expected, but it continues to baffle me just how much it is affecting my life. To make it even all the more unreal, her son, Dave, died early Friday morning, the day before she did. It was completely unexpected, an awful accident. Words can’t even describe and it still feels just surreal. We spent all of last week going to funerals and attending to related business. Completely horrible. I’ve never been so relieved for a week to be over.
My physical health has continued to deteriorate. I had already been somewhat motivated to do something about it and had been eating a bit better, but after Dave died at 39, after Sondra passed, something happened without me noticing it. I think death sometimes makes you realize that you need to take care of business so that you can live. And in a way, I think that’s what happened, although there wasn’t any specific thought about it being related, or that “they died so I should _____.” I can’t explain it.
I started the process of a database physical on Wednesday. I’m pretty shaken up about all of it. Filling out this long questionnaire, listing all of these things, all of these “symptoms” that I experience, realizing that it will likely all add up to some sort of diagnosis, probably diabetes, maybe even more, something worse, I don’t know. It’s overwhelming to think about. I have abused my body for years and years — I guess I always just thought I’d have “time” to do something about it, and then you’re 23 and then 25 and then 27 and things are at a breaking point. It’s really ridiculous and I feel nothing but shame, guilt, and fear about it.
It feels like most days I don’t really know what to do with myself. I try to really structure my time at work, make sure I have appointments all day, so that I actually get things done. Then most nights I get home, and all I want to do is go to bed. I don’t want to blog, don’t want to walk, just want to make myself not feel all of these feelings and all of these thoughts and memories that come up when I am awake and not occupied. I can’t stand being in my own skin.
Dr. Love has really been doing a good job at getting me to do things. We have gone to the dog park for the past couple of days and last night took a walk and did the Bowflex. My mom called last night and made plans for the majority of the weekend. It’s good for her, it’s good for me. Neither one of us want to dwell too much. Just too fucking painful.
I hope I can get back to a place where I can put my feelings down here in a somewhat coherent way. Right now I just have everything so pushed to the side that it’s almost impossible to get in touch with what’s inside there…and I don’t really friggin want to, either, is the thing. Even though I know it’s making me miserable. I just keep thinking that I need to buck up, go to work, keep myself occupied in the evening, and do it over and over and over and I’ll start to feel better eventually. That’s the hope, anyway. Right now I just feel incredibly disconnected.
This song means something deep and true to me, something timeless, reminds me of I time I wish I could remember better. Just enjoy and feel sad that you can’t hear The Wallflower’s version, but this guy is pretty good.
ChicagoSoul covers The Wallflowers, Josephine