I meant to write here...truly I did. Instead, I made a decision to spill the worst of it into my paper journal this week, instead of onto all of you. It is a lovely journal that my brother bought for me a few years back. Tooled, pressed "recycled" leather with an interchangeable insert. I have filled 5 inserts up since then, and I shall probably break the record this year with three inserts already used up.
You see, it was like this: I spiraled very far down this week. And, yes, I was afraid to put it all out here, because I anger and scare myself sometimes. Because I sometimes think that this might be the best I ever get. Which is a sometimes dull, plodding through life, with bits of smiles sprinkled in over time spent with my children, a knowing I have to do this. A forceful acknowledgement that this is my life now, whether I want it or not. Because I still do believe that life is a gift, and I cannot take it for granted. My children need me. My friends need me. My father needs me...
...and then he tells me how it is "Time To Move On". I have discussed it here before; the many angles my father uses to try and "shake me out of it"... "It's killing me to see you like this", "I miss my best friend", "I don't know what I would do if something happened to you", "You're not creating any sense of normal for the children", "He held you back", "You can be better because of this...you can be better for losing him", "Stop This Right Now"... Followed by "Sweetheart, I'm sorry, I love you, I only want you to be happy again and I won't ever bring it up again..."...until, of course, the next time I see you crying. I didn't mean to make you cry. Only he isn't the one who made me cry. Leonard made me cry...and only Leonard could truly only make me stop. No, I don't cry all the time. I cry worst at times when I see my son so sad, my daughter looking at me, the places we used to be all the time, his empty chair, his senior picture (God he was gorgeous), our bed, his clothing, our wedding pictures. This sounds like I cry all the time, but I don't...it's just been a lot lately, as winter drags on and reality sets in even deeper. But I get it out, and I went back to the gym (which heartily stinks, but anything to kick those endorphins into gear) and I steel myself against the pain, and long for him to hold me, all at the same time. I just felt so very alone today, after my father left. I have told him that he doesn't have to do this...to take some time away from me. I've mentioned that here before. I love seeing him, but hate it to. These should be happy times for him, after a lifetime of loneliness.
I am still here, I am just not the same, even though those who love me best wish for it. I wish for it to because it would mean that somehow the fates allowed Leonard to come back to me.
I bit of the "old me" resurfaced this week. I allowed myself to get into heated political arguments on a message board I used to frequent. I'm not quite as nice though..and I'm sure I made the ignore lists of a few.
We picked up Nicole's proofs today...Wow, this is really real, I have an "almost" graduate. That can't be, when I am only 29.