My best friend's grandfather, my half-sister's cousin, my dad's best friend's father, my friend's mother, and now Debbie. They all passed away this month. Four of them in the past two weeks. Maybe even ten days. I used to work with Debbie at an environmental consulting firm. It sounds more glamorous than it is. She's the third woman I know of in her early to mid-fifties who passed away that worked there. It must be the coffee. I lost contact with Debbie. She was a good lady. Funny, but also quite the drama queen. Nearly every time we went out, which wasn't that many times, she cried. Alcohol does that to some people. That's part of the reason why I didn't always feel like going out with her. I'm such a drama queen myself. I should've shown a little more compassion. I'm sorry Debbie. She seemed to be such a tortured soul, maybe now she's at peace. Maybe I'm dramatizing her. I just had to put Flower down last Saturday; my cat I had since I was 8. I have fond memories of her, but she was also a tortured soul. Afraid of her own shadow. She grew so weak, and never strong to begin with. I just want to go back to sleep, but I have too much to do. I have to finish these fucking interrogatories for my lawyer. I was determined to have them done last Friday, and now it's Tuesday. I'm such a disappointment. I look down at my parents, never accomplished anything, so it seems, no degree in anything, my mother never bought a home until a few months ago when she bought Gramma's, and that's only because Gramma had to go on medicaid and couldn't have any assets to do so. Dad bought a house once when my sister was a baby, but his ex kicked him out and he never bought another one. They haven't accomplished really much of what society marks as accomplishments. A degree, a decent home, a good job, something to retire on...all things that I want to accomplish and they do also. Why is it whenever I start talking bad about my parents, I feel guilty and must say something good? Because they're my parents? No. Because they did the best they could and they always were there for me, unless they were the problem. Particularly Carmen. I started off about how I'm disappointed in myself. Or just feel that I'm a disappointment. I haven't finished the rogs, my room is a mess, I have laundry to do, I haven't taken a shower since Saturday, or gotten out of my pajamas since Sunday, I haven't even looked at scholarships, I never do anything around the house, I'm still fat and haven't done much about it, and twice in the past three days I forgot to take my meds. I'm really taking care of myself and my responsibilities. I was hoping this would turn into an eloquent, wise post with insight, but it turned into a bitch fest about myself and my grieving about Debbie. That part I wanted to include. The rest is just dribble.
"All I ever wanted was love and peace and harmony. Just to be, to live and shine, and when I'm ready I up and fly. And I can't remember none of those things I want to forget. It's the best satisfaction no less, ask if I'm free and I'll say 'Oh, yes.'" ~Macy Gray
amen
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