It’s good old Monday again. I woke feeling out of sorts. Somewhere between depression and just not giving a shit.
The program I am in teaches us that our feelings can be a choice in how we choose to express them.
If I had a choice today I would choose Tanqueray and Tonics. Or maybe a big plate of an illicit substance. Or run away from home. The problem with this is after I sobered up or reached a destination I would still be here. Fuck! That sucks.
Since I made a commitment to do this program to the bitter end, instead I got cleaned up put on a black dress, a black shrug and black sandals. It was a great accessory to match my mood. I went to class.
I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted to cry all day or beat the crap out of something. I chose ambivalence.
I am numb. I hate days like this. I am tired of hearing myself whine about the loss of my daughter, my broken heart, how my soul went from light to a black smudge. That smudge doesn’t even resemble what a soul is supposed to look like. At least not what I was told as a child.
I feel bad for my surviving children and their suffering and mostly my partner of 27 years who spends a lot of time picking me up and trying to mold me back into a play doh structure that sort of reminds him of what used to be me.
I feel bad for her remaining family members, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins and friends.
I would give anything to turn the clock back to April 7th and take her away on a trip. Somewhere just she and I could be together.
Since I know all of this is unrealistic, I guess I will just go back to the numbness that has become my life and try not to play the blame game.
I guess I can get in the car and scream at the top of my lungs. At least I would feel alive again even for a moment.
I am out for the rest of today. I hate everything.