I have always loved and adored this word especially when I was a wee pup of a psych student.
A time when the fantastical of human psyche was enlightening. I was trying to figure out what was wrong with my family as well as the fun-times of trying to figure out what was wrong with me.
Today, I refreshed myself of the true meaning when I labeled my 10-yr-old with this word and then freaked the fuck out because I was basically labeling her a Lolita (if she is, I don't choose to recognize this... I am NOT paying attention to her constant love, stroking and affection on her daddy's shoulder.... shudder....) when in fact, I snoozed through most of my undergraduate degree. and 3/4 of my Graduate degree.
"I think it is time to start giving my 10 yr old Prozac with her chocolate milk.#histrionic" via my FaceBook update the other morn.
I then realized the error of my ways after my oldest proclaimed this morning "and then my soul died," after I washed her VANS socks the night before. Because they shrunk. Sorta.
I then laughed my ass off and asked if someone died that I didn't know about today.... WTF? I should know better.... and then asked her to pray with me (haha!!! i'm so fucking religious...) for a better day as we went through the soul-sucking carpool line in which I remained calm and failed to utter nary a cuss word. Because, DAMN! We had already survived WWIII by 8:30am and I hadn't had a sip of water or hit of Xanax to defend myself of such dramatics. Go ahead, you can call me a saint right now... I am/was.
This past weekend? Hysterics resumed - FIVE FOLD - with talk about her dead brother, cousins saying I killed him and wishing she could kiss his blue face, body, ashes and picture in the living room.
This is point in the conversation where I wanted to shoot myself, take a bolus of heroin and fucking die.
It has been four years and his death still affects her in ways I never could have fathomed.
"I think my guardian angel changed a long time ago. I think she was replaced by Thalon. I feel him touching my cheek when I am going to sleep. It makes me happy but very sad. I just wish I could have him back."
I can't begin to put into words my feelings of it all.
every bit and parcel of it all.
I hope and pray I am doing "it right" with wisdom, comfort and love.
Because man, it's hard. Very hard. To be here. right now.
We visited his grave this weekend because she deemed this our goal for the weekend. We picked up pitifully dyed blue daisies. Fucking daisies. I hate them but nonetheless, we put them on his shared grave with my uncle. and then on my Grandparents niche. and then OUR not-so-resting place, deathbed.
Thalon will FINALLY be moved to his final resting peace later in the next few months because his personal space is complete. and I will have finally finished paying for his spot. I love the money and death. Like death and taxes.
Just like the black-stained fingernails of projects that take over my here and now, his past existence has been has been inked, stained and blotted out of my mind. A Rorshach blot of abstract thought and distant memories that I have to constantly remind myself of. Old clothes, cards and stuffed toys. Stored at the top of my closet and out of sight and out of mind.
So funny how grief hits everyone at different times. Even four years later. We are all on so many discarded and disjointed faded pages. I find myself wondering how the fuck to pick those tattered pages up and make a cohesive story.
I would really like to sum my life into a music video because I am a restless, non-learned person of music but I do know what I feel and like.... and a total cheese ball. and want to make a statement even if I don't really hit the mark.