So I guess I started a blog about grief in February....who knew? Somehow I blocked it out I guess. I just read over it and it made me cry like a bitch. Oh well. I cry all the time anyways now, so I might as well embrace it. It's kind of interesting, being that it has been 6 months since I posted last, to look at where I was then and where I am now. I still hold true that time makes everything A-OK is a bullshit thing to tell someone who has lost anyone, let alone someone they love infinitely more than they love them self. What i have found, after looking at February that way, is that time hasn't made anything better, but it has changed some fundamental shit about my circumstance. The fact remains, however, that I just fucking miss him. I miss KC with every ounce of me and it hurts so bad to miss someone that much. Like I never understood why people would cut or self-mutilate but I kind of get it now. (Chill the fuck out, peeps, I am not cutting) I can see how emotional pain can cause such physical pain. It feels like restless leg syndrome in your whole body. It feels like no matter how deep of a breath you take that you can't get enough oxygen in your lungs. It feels like desperation, like a primal urge for something like food or water but the only thing to satiate your need is untouchable. Unreachable. Dead and gone. Fuck that. Not fucking fair.
So what do I do? I'm fully medicated and that gets me through the days. I sleep a lot, I see friends and family. I am going back to school. If you just met me at a coffee shop or something you would think everything was great and have no idea that I am a complete crazy mess inside my own head all the time. You wouldn't have any idea that the words "SCUBA" or "Fishing" or "fish" or "construction" or "wedding" might throw me into a goddamned whirlwind of anxiety and sadness. But what do I do? what the fuck am I supposed to DO??!!
If this were a book or some sitcom or some shit I would have the answer neat and clean and some fucking weak ass song by The Fray would come on while I stare into the setting sun with an expression on my face that reads "now I am done with my grief, and I shall go forth living life happily ever after." Well for fucks sake, you gotta know that's not happening. Every day I wake up and think, what can I do today to make it better than yesterday? Some days do seem better. Other days are spent in my room, "watching" TV and thinking about how I was THIS FUCKING CLOSE to having everything I have ever wanted.
Just to give some perspective here, I have days where I feel hopeful. I have days when I think I could fall in love again and just as I didn't expect to meet and lose KC, and I don't necessarily expect to love like that again, I can see how it is in the realm of possibility. The most important thing I have learned in the last 8 months is that life is messy. People get sick, people disappoint you, people break promises and make you angry and let you down. Simultaneously, people surprise you, show up for you when you need them, people fall in love and create life out of their love, people stick up for you and act as your champion, people make you laugh till you pee a little and cry til you can barely breathe. People think about you as often as you think about them and people dream of you, and teach you, and go to bat for you, so to speak. So this blog will no longer be just about grief, but it will be the grieving process, the awesome stories of super bad ass mother fuckers I get to call my friends and family. It will be a chronicalization of my ridiculous mind and what I have done, what I'm doing, and what is yet to come. So read it, it won't be all bullshit sad stuff. It might be something to make you say, "huh," or even laugh a little. And pardon the language, but when uncensored is in the title, you know what you're in for. And if you don't, you're fucking dumb and probably won't read this anyways, so suck it.
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