Trust me when I tell you, you just don't. The sentiment is wonderful, and kind and yes, it really does mean something., but do not tell me you understand how I feel. Because you don't. I know you don't -- how could you understand how I feel when I don't understand how I feel?
I thought it was going to be fine this year, I got up that morning, wished I could call him, did an emotional inventory and felt okay about it, sad but not bunny boiling sad/crazy. Then I went to lunch. I walked in, sat down, ate an entire meal, and just as we were finishing, I saw the mongolian barbecue chefs slinging vegetables and meat across the hot skillet/table and realized that if he were still alive I'd have been having mongolian barbecue with my brother that nigh to celebrate his 53rd birthday, like we did every year.
I suddenly felt all hot and nauseous, my throat got dry, my heart raced, tears formed and burned my eyes. I was mad. At myself, at my lunch date, at him for dying.
I sucked it up, went back to work, and at 10:15pm as I raised my sharpie marker to cross through the date on the calendar, like I do every other day, I lost it. How could I treat it like any other day? I spent 20 minutes on the floor in my bathroom crying until I vomited then I marked the day off and went to bed.
I believe you care, but no, you do not understand.
About Me
- Craver
- North Carolina, United States
- Behind every beautiful thing there's some kind of pain. - Bob Dylan
11 comments:
So sorry.
Hugs.
I'm sorry too.
Lots of extra hugs your way!
No, I can't begin to understand. But I was thinking about you. And hoping it'd be okay finally. Or if not okay, at least ... better. A little.
Love you, Binky.
when i cry... i do it on my bathroom floor too.
its a special, special day. and you are ok. if you did treat it like any kind of day... you'd wouldn't be ok.
love you lots
There really aren't any words other than to say that I know I don't understand. I'm sorry that you do understand that kind of pain. :-(
Thanks to all of you for this. I hope you all know I was ranting. Not much more than that. I am, apparently still 6 years old and this is my version of stomping my feet and yelling "IT'S NOT FAIR".. because, well, it's not., and it appears I'm just not going to get over it.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for tolerating my tantrum.
jc
want me to send you to your room or detention or something?
:D
now.
don't roll your eyes at me.
xoxo
I think we're entitled to feel this way... it is nothing short of awful to have been forced to understand something no one ever should.
Hugs from me to you, friend.
As someone very wise once told me, you don't get over something like this.
You simply learn to survive, and some days are worse than others.
Love and hugs to you, my friend.
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