El Dia De Los Fuck You.

El Dia de los Muertos.
Fuck me.
I walked into this one with blind eyes, big time. Let me back up a bit. I went on a field trip with my students today for their Spanish class to a museum that was featuring an exhibit for El Dia de los Muertos, or the Day of the Dead. I thought the whole way about how cool the art would be and how I love museums and art is cool! YAY! Then I get there. I walk in. I see alters, alters honoring people who have died. I was fucking blindsided. I am standing there in front of 10 autistic teenagers fighting tears and feigning interest in this incredibly devastating display of pain, bereavement, grief, and loss. The idea was so beautiful, though. Honoring loved ones with art and pictures and butterflies and marigolds and sunlight and rich purples and love. It makes sense. It was nice to be able to leave a little note on the community alter for KC but it was a little awkward to do so in front of my students and coworkers.
The next couple months are going to kick my ass, I get that. I just thought I would know when these things were going to happen, I wasn't anticipating sneak-ups on me after almost 11 months of mourning. I thought I would have this figured out by now. But maybe you never get to figure things out all the way, maybe what I never get back is a feeling of security over my own emotions. Or maybe I just need more time. More than the year. This regression is tough enough by itself but this is my life now. I get up. I feel sad. I go to work. I feel distracted and sad. I get in my car to drive home from work and feel REALLY sad. I get home. I feel sad. I check facebook, I watch TV, I chat with my parents, I go to bed and feel sad. Rinse. Repeat. Just hoping someday it will get good again. It really has to get good again, this is not sustainable.