Published by admin on 31 Jan 2008
I spent last night pulling scabs off large portions of my body and squeezing the pus directly into my mouth, metaphorically speaking, of course. It was unpleasant. I cried quite a bit. At one point I was sitting at my desk reading and re-reading the words he wrote and I started doing one of those whole body sobs. I flung myself out of my chair and onto the bed (they’re very close) and buried my face into Lula’s concerned little body and cried for a few long minutes. Melodramatic much?
I think the biggest problem for me at the moment is the ease with which I can peek into his life and catch the filtered glimpse he puts out there and wonder why I seem to be so completely absent, thinking about how separate our lives were and how easily I seem to be written out of his… it’s painful. I have to stop. So I’m going to. I’m also going to try to do some off-line writing in the meantime and get my next draft off my To Do list and into people’s in-boxes.
As for this spot, I’m probably going to be posting some stuff I wrote for my mom a few Christmases ago about growing up a little bit country a little bit classical music. I have something else I want to share and write about here, but there are a few steps I need to take before I can comfortably do that. I don’t mean to be all ‘ooo mystery stuff…’ but I wanted to write it down so I remember that I really have some heavy shit to talk about but can’t just yet.
I’m going to miss writing about my feelings here, but there was a realization last night as I was crying at my desk, that maybe instead of writing about my feelings, I need to feel them. Infections heal much more quickly if you quit digging around in them and squirting the pus in your eyes. Metaphorically speaking. Of course.