I watched an anime with Corey last night that really tore me up. There's a stray cat that "adopts" one of the main characters and it's black and lovey and adorable little kitten thing, and through the few episodes it shows up you watch how it just adores this girl and she adores it and they're so happy together… and then it gets hit by a car, but it doesn't die right away. She finds it and it dies in her arms and she (and I) both basically lose it.

I thought I was over the loss of Bob and Cortes, but this silly cartoon brought back all of the grief as if it were totally fresh, and I have been mourning so HARD since then. One thing leads to another and I find myself grieving all the losses of my life at once, and I am paralyzed.

The really, really hard part is that if I had done just one thing differently, both might still be alive. With Cortes, I saw the puddle of antifreeze that had leaked out of Corey's truck before Cortes ever got to it, and I knew that I should sprinkle kitty litter over it to absorb the antifreeze so one of the cats wouldn't get hurt, but… I wasn't feeling well, and I was in pain, so I decided to leave it for later. I had the front door open to let in the lovely spring air, and that's how I saw Cortes lift his little face up and lick his mouth when he had lapped up most of that puddle of antifreeze. I didn't see him soon enough to stop him, but I had seen the puddle maybe an hour earlier and had chosen not to do anything about it, and he died because of my selfishness.

Then there's Bob Cat. He and I both grieved terribly for Cortes, he especially since they were litter mates and had never been separated. Bob had never been alone without his best friend before, and he would walk the house, crying for his brother. It was very distressing for both of us. He eventually got over it a little, as did I, but he didn't perk up entirely. I thought maybe he was still depressed, but he got a respiratory infection type thing and it lingered on for a few weeks. I took him to the vet to find out what was wrong, and it was discovered that Bob had feline leukemia, something he had probably contracted from some other cat in our neighborhood. I could have had him vaccinated, but I had chosen not to because we were struggling to pay for my medical bills already, and we didn't want to add vet bills on top of that. It's not an expensive vaccination, but I thought that I could gamble and win and thereby save money for my medical problems. My decision cost Bob his life. Both of the brothers lost, out of the blue. No warning. (Now I'm very paranoid whenever any of the cats seems to be looking a little run down or displays any kind of health problem.)

I miss my little babies. I raised them from newborns! They were my furry children and I miss them so much, and I hate myself so much for being so selfish that they died before they could even become full grown. My anger and my grief over my lovely babies of course brings up all of the feelings of loss and anger I've had to deal with over the past 5 years, and I feel like it's too much. I just want to lay down and not wake back up. I'm so tired, and I hurt so much.

I have been comforting myself with the knowledge that, had Bob and Cortes not died, I would never have gotten to experience the love and silly quirks of Fancy and Vladimir, both of whom I love deeply. They make me laugh often, and along with Juneaux I am often overwhelmed with their love and loyalty to me. I'm just afraid that I'm going to make a wrong choice somewhere along the line and lose one of them as well. Or worse, one of my people.

I'm just hurting. Hurting and worn down and tired and depressed and really, really frustrated all of the time. I feel like calling myself "princess warrior" is a stupid joke. There's nothing I'm dealing with that I can actually fight or change. I just try not to think about all of the crappyness, distracting myself with books or movies and such, but sometimes a memory or a feeling gets triggered and you just can't help yourself. Writing all this out makes me feel better, actually, along with the irrepressible and all consuming sobs and wailing.

I have some stuff for the weekend I need to get done. Hopefully it'll help distract me a bit, and I'll probably end up blasting some music that always makes me feel better while I work. Either that or I'll nap for a bit, THEN blast the music and work. I'd rather curl into a ball and just fade away, but I've already made promises, so… trudge on, I shall.

Took little Bobbers in to get that respiratory infection he couldn't kick taken care of. The vet was curious and suspicious as to why a normally healthy cat couldn't kick a regular infection, so he ran a test, and sure enough… Bob had contracted feline leukemia. Corey and I made the decision to put him down then and there, mostly because any money we can spare goes to treating my diseases, and he was just gonna be sick and miserable until he died. That's not fair to him. So, as much as it sucked, they euthanized him right then, with me holding him in my arms.

It was awful. Not because it wasn't quick and humane, but because I lost another child within 4 1/2 months. Bob's brother and litter-mate, Cortes, died on February 6th, and Bob wandered the house and property for weeks, crying for his brother, his favorite playmate and closest friend. That made it really hard for me to deal with Cortes's death, not to mention the incredible suddenness of it. He was fine that morning, he ate the antifreeze, two hours later he had been euthanized and was dead. Same with Bob. I had this horrible premonition when we took him in, but I kept trying to shake it off and chalk it up to worry, you know? But I knew there was something seriously wrong. I just knew. I know my cats. He cuddled up to me the night before, but I regret having been out of town all day and spending our last day together away from him. We had one last night together, though. Then the appointment, and within half an hour… boom. That was it. It was devastating.

Fortunately, Corey had the day off and was with me, so after I relinquished Bob's tiny, limp body he took me home and watched an episode of Cosmos with me while I ate cake I had bought the day before from my favorite bakery. I felt some better afterward, but my grief has stayed with me, and at that time worry was also gnawing at the edge of my consciousness as well, because we had to take the other two cats to be tested for feline leukemia, which apparently transmits incredibly easily via saliva. Bob and the other cats weren't very close, so there was little to no grooming going on, but all of the cats do share the same food and water dishes, which could totally pass the disease on to the others. I was going crazy with worry and fear and grief, making sure that I spent time with each of my kitties… in case it was the last time. I was really worried that Juneaux would be sick and I would lose him, because we've been together for so long, and been through so much… he's been the thing that has kept me alive/kept me from attempting suicide several times, and he is the thing that kept me going during my deepest and most miserable times of depression while beginning and trying to deal with the abuse and PTSD in Idaho. He is as near and dear to my heart as my family, and it would destroy me to lose him before he dies of old age.

Corey reminded me that I'm going to lose Juneaux someday anyway, but I told him that there is a huge difference between losing him to old age and losing him to tragedy. It's the same for people. It always tears you apart, but it's just… different.

Took the cats in late yesterday morning, and all of the employees and doctors were very kind and respectful, since they knew I had lost Bob just two days ago. Our regular vet was in that day, so she came back in after testing the two cats and asked me if I wanted the good news, or… the good news? I wasn't sure I heard her right the first time, so I was kind of silly and stunned, asking the same question a few times, but yes-- both Juneaux and Fancy have a clean bill of health. I made sure to get them both vaccinated against feline leukemia right then and there, though we still don't have enough money to cover the other vaccinations. I think they'll be okay. The vet said that one thing that worked in their favor is that they are adults, so their immune system is fully developed and stronger than Bob's was. Also, they don't get into fights regularly like Bob did, so less chance of catching it from other cats. I think that applies to rabies and distemper, as well.

I'm feeling better, emotionally, after having that relief of good news, though I am still grieving hard over Bob. Not constantly… and it's a little easier this time because there are no other kitties wandering around looking for him and crying, and also, Bob used to be out and about for large portions of the day, evening, and sometimes night, so it really just feels like he's out somewhere and he'll come back later. He wasn't constantly underfoot, so I'm not constantly reminded. That helps. I don't know if it'll be counterproductive in the long term to healing, but it feels better right now, and that's kind of all that I care about.

Went to a farewell party for two friends who are moving across the country (stop moving away, mofos!), and it was nice. I enjoyed myself, though for a while it seemed like everyone was just kind of wandering around more or less bored… but V, one of the other women, she insisted that everyone start playing these games that she brought, and that totally made the tone of the party so much better. I fell asleep during the second game, which is kinda surprising because it was super loud and lively, but when I need a nap my body will just go for it, and I had been putting it off all afternoon because I'd been out and about and busy. The man of the moving couple didn't quite seem like himself, which was weird, but then I've never been around him when he's drunk more than one or two beers, so that could be it. It could also just be the stress and grief of moving, especially moving away from such good friends and such a tight community such as we have now. I hope they can find the same happiness where they go. I had a bag of gifts for them, and he texted me later and said that it was a very touching gift, and thank you immensely. That made my heart smile, even if it is heavy that they're leaving. I care about them a great deal, and they have made it clear that they really like Corey and I, so it really sucks that they're moving. It is hard to find a couple our age to hang out with that aren't ghetto assholes or druggies, or with an obviously unhealthy relationship dynamic, and that's just way more drama than we want to expose ourselves to. The moving couple had so many of the same interests, and they have a zero-drama-tolerance philosophy, like us.

So I'm grieving two things. Three, if you count the memory of Cortes's death that's now super fresh and in my face again. I ate some italian food that I probably shouldn't have on Friday when we went out to eat (I begged for Italian over sushi, and now I'm paying for it lol), and now my guts are in a huge uproar. Probably because I ate the leftovers last night when I returned. My intestines sound like water gurgling down a drain pipe. It's definitely a weird sensation. I just wish I could get off of the damn toilet! That's where I'm living today, apparently. I know that my sadness is a large amount of my gut problems. I always have gut problems when I'm stressed out by anything… and losing what to me was legitimately a child, albeit furry... I consider the cats to be like furry human toddlers. That's about the age and communication level we're at together. Also, being unable to carry or bear children of my own… they are truly my surrogate babies. And I've raised most of them from infancy, if not birth. Bob and Cortes were both babies I raised from birth, and Juneaux was only a few months old when I found him. I feel that I have a right to grieve as much as any mother grieves over her lost human child. So, that being said… I know why my guts are all jacked up. Death, loss, stress, grief, loss…. so much loss… I'm just so glad that Corey understands my grieving process and is there to back me up and comfort me when I need it. Love that man.

I feel like I've been gone forever from the good ol' blog. It's only been 20 days, but that can be an eternity. I would explain everything that has gone down, but in the words of Inigo Montoya, "No, is too much. Let me sum up."

First of all, the appointment at the University was a rousing success! The doctor's bedside manner was professional but kind, and he was very thorough. I came away with several new diagnoses and a heart singing with vindication that it was not "just fibromyalgia" this whole time. I'm also dealing with Hypermobility Syndrome, Undifferentiated Connective Tissue Disease, and--get this-- Inflammatory Polyarthritis. Yep, that's right. I'm basically an arthritic old woman lol. So right now it's all still pretty vague. We don't have specifics as to what kind of arthritis or connective tissue disease I have, but they took, like, 10 vials of blood, I've gotten x-rays and ultrasounds of my hands, and I go back in February to learn more about what ails me. The Hypermobility makes sense, too. Even if it's not a part of EDS, it can be a thing unto itself and it still causes insane amounts of pain whether it's a standalone or part of the Syndrome. That's where my Intractable Pain comes from, and then I have the arthritic and connective disease pain exacerbating it. No wonder I'm in hell all of the time, why I require overly strong doses of pain medication to keep my body from crashing and burning and putting me in the hospital.

Let's see, what else? Ummm… yeah, I've pretty much spent a lot of this month in bed, sleeping. My friend took me to Tucson and we made a fun trip out of it, going to spend the night with another friend of mine in Sierra Vista, and that was cool. Mostly I've just been trying to survive, buying or making Christmas gifts where I could because I love love love giving people gifts.

Funny, it felt like I had so much stored up and ready to be poured out, but I guess that's my big news. I'm still having a hard time processing the implications of new diagnoses and such, and that's made it rough. In addition to that, Corey's youngest sister passed away a few weeks ago, and that's been really hard. The week that we were making arrangements was the most difficult of all, I think… and I've definitely been taking it harder than Corey. That's fairly normal though, I suppose, at least for us. He doesn't really go in for the whole "displays of emotion" thing, whereas I can't help it. We inherited her young snake (because her dad had no idea how to deal with a snake and didn't want to), and the first time we went to feed her it was a "pinkie", or a baby mouse that has no fur to speak of and hasn't opened its eyes yet. They're small, and we weren't sure how big of a mouse Lemon, the snake, could handle. I was very upset seeing the little guy being sacrificed like that-- it's always harder for me the younger they are-- and when Lemon attacked it wrong and tried to eat it while it was still alive (she's still young and not too good at this yet), I lost it and fled to the bedroom, sobbing. Corey came in a bit later and made sure I was alright, but truthfully he found it a bit amusing. He has some dark humor like that.

So it's kinda been a hell of a month. In addition to all of that, I had some not-very-good pain killers to try out this month, which is what led to the "surviving" part. The spending most of my time sleeping thing is, apparently, an automatic response to grief and excessive stress. However, Corey has been more affectionate and interested in our relationship. I think that the conversations we had made a difference for him, and I know that it got me thinking more deeply. I think the sudden loss has made him more attentive toward me as well, because he is sensitive toward my moods and making sure that I don't fall too far. I love that man, I really do.

Tomorrow is Christmas, and it'll be the first one in my life that I can recall not spending with my mom and siblings. Corey doesn't celebrate holidays, and I'm a bit of a grinch myself, but there are some things about certain holidays that I like and Christmas holds a few favorites. I like lights and Christmas trees and gifts and family. I wasn't able to make any of that happen this year, though, because I'm just too sick, exhausted, and whatever to put forth the effort. I will be having dinner with my grandparents tomorrow afternoon, so that's something. I'm pretty sure they have a gift for me, and I have something for them that I made, but they're really not putting effort into it either because all of the grandkids are gone or grown… kinda makes me sad. But my hopes are that by next Christmas I'll have the vigor to make some effort toward the things that I love, maybe even be able to travel again and see my folks. I really hope so. I hate living all the way across the country from them.

Today wasn't too bad, though. I got a massage, slept, ate cake, and watched How I Met Your Mother all wrapped up in my electric blanket on the couch. Not bad at all, I'd say, though much different than I've spent my Christmas Eve's in the past. I'm hoping to "make" Corey take me out to see some of the impressive Christmas lights tonight after he gets home from work. That'd be neat.

What is it about death that makes us grieve? It can't be any kind of concern for the well-being of the one who passed away… Well, ok, maybe it can if you believe in hell and heaven and those kinds of things. But really, they, the deceased, are done. They aren't hurting, laughing, crying, missing you… any of those things. In the case of my beloved Chemo Princess, she's not sick any longer. There is no more fight to endure.

I think grieving is a selfish thing. It's not about them, it's about us. How much we will miss the person, how we feel cheated and robbed of the opportunity to build further bonds and create connections with that person… but that's okay. I mean, we all know it is so unhealthy to lose someone and not grieve. Our lives are pretty inherently selfish, anyway, no matter how selfless we try to be. Even the act of losing oneself in service to God is a very gratifying act for the individual. Those who indulge in self-flagellation to make up for supposed wrongs or to score points with God do so out of a motivation of self… a desire for security, eternal or temporary.

Then again, maybe that's why death is so hard. We opened up our selfish little spheres and brought someone else in. We connected with them, we made ourselves uncomfortable for them at times, we let our lives be about something other than us… and now that's gone. Now we're just a little more selfish than we were… or are we? Does it take a living person to form a connection? Does that connection just vanish once the person is no longer breathing, once the heartbeat stops? I don't know. I don't think so, though… Although no further connections can be made, really, death cannot erase what was. As long as one of you is alive and remembering, the connection stays.

Memories. A way to live on after dying. And what a fragile place to live… memories are so delicate, subject to change and repression and fabrication… But isn't it strange that you can make new memories with someone who doesn't live any longer? I know J created a set of new memories with her father D at her wedding, even though he had been gone for months. But she brought him into the event, and there he was. The plant that I brought home from his memorial… it thrives and blooms like nobody's business. I still have that connection to D with his plant, but he doesn't know it. I do. I am making memories with… a plant… but also with D, because I have connected it to him in my mind, therefore he is still a part of my life.

Our minds are strange places. So are the plains of our soul, littered with emotions, the topography constantly changing. You could get lost inside yourself and never make it back out.

It might be pretty plain by now that the Chemo Princess hung up her wand and tiara. Last night, in fact. I felt no disturbance of the Force, no sudden sadness… but I do today. I grieve, knowing that we will make no new memories together. Knowing that her husband no longer has a wife and her children no longer have a mother… at least, not one that can interact with them any longer. I rejoice because she isn't sick anymore. I rejoice that she is done with pain. I rejoice that she fought hard and well and no longer has to be a warrior. But I also grieve… because she was the warrior I looked to for strength. And if she's gone, how will I keep fighting? I am also feeling some twinges of anger. Yes, I am angry… not that she is gone, but that she is gone and I am still here and sick and have to keep fighting for I don't know what reason… simply because those around me would be sad if I died? What a reason to fight… it's both laughable and honorable. I am angry because she gets relief and I don't. I am angry because this is the second amazing human being with SO MUCH to contribute to the world that has been lost to cancer inside of a year out of those that I love. I am angry because she had a specific enemy to fight--cancer--and I don't.

She and I were kindred spirits. Hippies, lover of good music, theater, sparkly things, tie dye, gypsy wagons… and now I must carry on alone. I have lost a comrade, a mentor, a friend… and I am grieving.

Even in the midst of her battle, she is beautiful.

The family's message of love and support for the Chemo Princess about a year ago.

So there's a lot of shiznit going down right now. Health problems, per the usual. I'm a bit concerned as to why my bones are so tender and why they burn. I don't think that's exactly a normal thing. My skin is pulling that "burning" trick to, and I don't like it, not to mention the chest pains and the random arm/leg/hand/foot numbness that's been hitting me. And the dizziness. That too.

Every time I take another plunge downward I comfort myself with the hopes that maybe this is just a temporary flare and I'm going to bounce back out of it and retain the level of "health" that I had a day/week/month ago. I think it's time to stop deluding myself. I've taken another very large step towards being completely disabled (yay pain!), and it's not gonna reverse itself without some medical intervention. Yes, still trying to figure all that out… I hope I don't end up a vegetable before that happens. My mom thinks I ought to be screened for various kinds of cancer. I can't say that I disagree with her.

Speaking of cancer… my friend is dying. My friend, the Chemo Princess, has been battling cancer for the past four years and is now going into hospice care. This is the woman that inspired me with the strength I needed to accept the newfound reality of being a fibromite somewhere over a year and a half ago. She is the one that has inspired me to find the beauty still abundant in my life and to sparkle, shine, and fight tooth and nail through these health problems. She's just so… uniquely herself. I've always been in awe of that aspect of her. I mean, I've known her since I was a kid. It was her wedding photos that made me want to get married in a meadow, which she and her husband did… in garb, I might add. He's a really cool, quirky guy too; an artist. He and his junk/jug band, Deep Fried Pickle Project, have sung some really funny songs. My favorite is "Don't Drink The Juice At The Bottom Of The Pickle Jar".

Anyway, it's just a hard reality to know that someone so awesome, who has contributed so much light, love, and joy into the world will soon be silenced. Like, really? Here we go again with that "why do bad things happen to good people" thing. It just pisses me off that such a wonderful woman and family are soon to be torn apart-- and have suffered so much already!-- and scum like G are sitting safe and sound with nary a problem. (Well, being in prison is probably a problem for him, but he totally deserves that one.)

Ugh. I have to go to sleep. I was trying to wait until the pain killer kicked in, but I really just need to sleep. I've got a doctor's appointment in a few hours, and C is coming with me since he has to run some errands anyway. Tomorrow, if I'm up to it, I plan to try to contact the right people to get a disability claim going. Almost 26, and filing for disability. What a life, eh?

Nah, it's good, it's good… I like being alive. I like it even more when I think of my dying friend, and wonder what she wouldn't give to have more time with her family. It's thinking of stuff like that that makes it so hard for me to end it on my terms. Like, there are people out there that would give anything for more time… so how can I throw mine away? It wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be right.

So I'm thinking about death tonight. Is that weird?

I'm just thinking… my body is pulling all kinds of crap that it shouldn't be doing, stuff that healthy, normal bodies don't do. I'm not getting better at all. I'm steadily worsening. Does that mean that I'm dying? Like, when do you actually cross the threshold from "sick" to "dying"?

I feel my life force ebbing away a little more each day. Does that qualify?

We had quite the adventure tonight as C advocated for me via phone and (politely and calmly) demanded answers to tough questions. The end result is that I'm not going to the ER tonight, but I am going to raise hell tomorrow to try and get some pain meds that actually work. I've been fluctuating between an 8 and 9 for hours now, and I'm totally exhausted, but I hurt so bad that I can't sleep.

Does that count as dying? I'm certainly not living anymore. I'm just kind of taking up space… bringing smiles and irritated groans wherever I can. I still have hopes and dreams and things that I want to accomplish, to be sure, but I'm not able to do anything about them right now. I simply don't have the energy or the will any longer.

As I lay inert on the couch tonight, fading into the buzz and fuzziness of my mental state (overwhelmed by pain and not able to function properly… how am I even typing coherent sentences?!), I sincerely thought that maybe I was just going to, I dunno, kind of fade out and just… stop being. Right then and there. Clearly, that didn't happen, and mostly because I wanted to update my Facebook status one more time. (Hey, any reason to live, right?)

I thought, though, about what would happen if I did just fizzle out tonight. How would C know who to notify? How would my friends know that I was gone? Would I be happy with what I'd left behind, the blog posts and the Facebook timeline and the conversations with friends and the gifts given and the super hot sex with my husband…?

The answer was yes.

If I were to just fade out tonight, I would have no regrets. I have no bones to pick, no relationships awry that need mending, just a little credit card debt (sorry, honey, I guess you'll have to pick that one up!), and no skeletons in the closet.

Okay, I take that back. I would regret not being able to do more, to give more, to make more of a mark on the world… to make the world a better place. I'm not done yet. I want to help the HJ grow, I want to work with my girls and see them rise triumphant from their broken pasts. I want to paint and see sunsets  and gloriously starry skies in different states. I want to visit the East coast, travel in New England. I want more hot sex. I want to eat pizza even though I'm not supposed to… or maybe a forbidden donut! (There's an awesome allergy friendly bakery in Boston, I think it is, that I really really really want to go to. I miss baked goods!!!) I want to cultivate more friendships and make more people smile. I want to put more good energy out there into the world. I want to visit Crystal Peaks Youth Ranch in Oregon. I want to see my sister K get married this summer. (Though reality whispers that I probably won't be able to do that one, sadly.) I want to make jewelry and sun catchers. I want to cuddle my niece and do silly stuff with my family.

I want more love, more laughter, more life and light and happiness. I would regret missing out on that, being able to create that, that's all.

So, ok, maybe I'm not done yet. But if I do fade away, if I am dying like I feel I am (in a totally non-melodramatic way, you understand), then I shall pass with the knowledge that I am loved, that I have loved, and that I have brought good into the world. That's a good thing to know.

So. The weekend.

The morning that I was supposed to leave, I got a call from the car rental company about half an hour before R and I would go pick up the car. Apparently they were all rented out and had no cars available. I called R and told him what happened, and he showed up on my doorstep to pick me up and go see what we could scare up. Thus began a two hour hunt for a rental vehicle. Apparently there really aren't that many rental cars in Y, and the ones that we could find, well... we kept hitting snags left and right. For one reason or another, two places weren't able to rent to him, which would have saved us, oh, an hour and a half, but... it was a fun/interesting time of riding around with my new father in law and getting to know him a little better. It's not like we talked about anything deep, but it was just... enjoyable. I'll freely admit that I've been intimidated by him in the past, not because he's scary but because he's so... robotic. (Wonder where C gets it from? LOL) I am naturally pretty good at making friends, but in the past he just didn't really engage, so it was unsettling for me. Now that he and C's mom are divorced, though, he's actually happy, and that makes all the difference in the world. So despite the frustration of delays, it was a rather enjoyable time.

I finally got on the road during the heat of the day, which made me SUPER grateful that I wasn't in good ol' Shenadoah, because she's already running hot. I ended up with a Mazda 5, which was sweeeeeet! I've never driven that nice of a car. *sigh* It makes me want one of those new-fangled fancy new cars. The drive itself was uneventful. I stopped at a rest area with nice grass and trees to eat my lunch of watermelon, and I needed to stretch out my aching limbs so I ended up doing some yoga right there on the grass. Funny thing was, I didn't even care if anyone saw me! I used to be so self-conscious about so many things, but I find that as I gain confidence within myself and just do what I need to do, I worry less about what others will think. This is a gift that chronic illnesses and healing from abuse have given me-- learning how to do what is needed for me and not worrying about others unduly. I need to follow my own healing journey in my own time. Of course, there should always be a basic respect for those around you. I'm not advocating narcissism, here! Just a healthy sense of boundaries and self-confidence.

Upon arriving at the hotel, I brought my bags up to the deserted room (C and the girls were at a pre-service for D that I missed because of the timing of my trip, thanks to the car snafu) and proceeded to crash for three hours. Apparently driving wears me out more than it used to. I'm not surprised. I doubt I'd be able to pull off the 24 hours straight trip to Id anymore. When I woke up from my nap, I read a book (A Game of Thrones!) until C and the girls trickled in. They were exhausted, both from their long trip down and from the emotions of the service. We all got ready for bed while chatting among ourselves, and let me tell you, it was so good to be around them again! It was easy to fall back into the routines and rhythms of getting ready together.

That night, however, was a loooooong one. I could not sleep. I dozed fitfully now and then, but sleep was not forthcoming. Early in the morning I took a hot soak in the hotel's deep tub, which relaxed me enough to finally sleep for an hour before everyone was up and getting ready for the day. Surprisingly, I made it through the whole day and into the afternoon before getting dizzy and lightheaded from fatigue, at which point I napped in the church sanctuary until it was time to leave.

I'll be honest and admit (again) that I've felt pretty isolated during this whole process of grieving D. It seems that not many people know or understand that the S's thought/think of me as part of the family, so I'm just that girl that lived with them for a while. Even the P's, who know me and visited the S's multiple times while I was living there, completely left me out of the list of grieving family members in their tribute, opting instead to include the girls' boyfriend and fiance. Um, hello? I've been a part of the family for just as long or longer than both of those guys! Aaaaaaanyway... nope, no bitterness here! lol So in addition to being ignored or marginalized, there is no one down here that even knows D. BJ met him once, in passing, as did my grandparents, but that's it. J knows them better, but she's all the way across the country (well, halfway right now, anyway), so I've pretty much been left to mourn alone. C has been fantastic about comforting me and listening to my stories of D and the S's, but again... he doesn't know D. It's not the same. He talked to him for a few moments on Skype once.

The man who performed the service, though, made it a point to include me. It may not have seemed like much to him, but it is something that will stand out in my mind and which I will always be grateful for. When we introduced ourselves, he said, "Oh, I know who you are. I saw you in the S's pictures." Then he asked if I'd like to give a tribute during the family time, which of course I jumped at. I just really appreciated the inclusion. In addition to that, I had let C know how important it was to me to sit with her and the girls during the service itself, and that was accommodated, which I appreciated an unspeakable amount. K and I cried together during much of the setting up hour, and I cried on J's shoulder several times throughout the service.

As much as I hurt for me and the girls, though, it was C's loss and pain that struck me the most forcefully by the end of the service. Now that I have C, I can't fathom losing him. The pain would be almost unbearable. Yet here is a woman who shared 30 years with the love of her life, and now he's gone and she's alone. The loneliness... would be unspeakable.

It got me thinking about life, and love... and whether it's all really worth it, you know? Because really, when you love someone, you are opening yourself up to the inevitability of loss. People die, and unless you and your spouse both die at the same moment then one of you will have to face the incredible pain that comes with that loss. Is it worth it? I was thinking about that, and wondering... but then I think about C and D, and how much I learned by watching their love lived out in their lives and in their family life, and I realize that it's greater than just two people in love. It touches and affects the people and community around those two in love. It is because of C and D that I really felt okay in moving forward with marriage, having the assurance that yes, a healthy marriage and family is actually a possibility and not a wild goose chase. And even when one of those two is gone, or even both of them, their love has left a legacy and a mark on the world around them that is worth the inevitability of pain and loss.

I also thought of C, my C, and when I thought about him I concluded that whatever time I have to know and love him is worth the pain and loneliness that will come when he's gone. Maybe it makes it even a little sweeter, knowing that there is a shadow in our future that nothing can prevent. What I took from my conversations with C about her loss and loneliness, though, is that it was also worth it for her to have known and loved D, even though he's gone now.

Love is a special thing. I'm glad that I have so much of it in my life. I am truly grateful for the abundance in my life, as I tell myself frequently... and I find it fitting that even after passing away, D is still influencing people in a positive manner. His life was such that it cannot be silenced, even in death. I only hope that I can live that well. It would be an apt tribute to a gentle giant of a man.

M's memorial was last night. It was hard, but it was good. I cried a lot. It was the "goodbye" that I never said. If M's memorial was any indication, I'm going to absolutely lose it at D's memorial. I won't be able to stop crying, I'm pretty sure. It's going to be ugly.

I just wish that the event hadn't been tainted by pushy people trying to guilt me into coming back to church. I literally had someone tell me that God was speaking through them and that God wanted me to do a certain thing for the church. I told them that I was pretty sure they were the ones that wanted me to do it, and that I was not committing to anything. Then I shut my mouth and focused on my watermelon.

In any event... M is at rest now. All we can do is remember him, and let his life inspire us to lead better ones, because he really was an inspiration.

My friend that died was only 19. We grew up together in our small church, so even though I didn't get to know him well personally as we got older, his loss is a hard blow. He died of a single gunshot wound in the wee hours of Monday morning, and his parents are devastated.

I texted BJ yesterday, wondering when the funeral/memorial service would be. She told me what she knew, then mentioned that there was a grief counseling session for the youth of the church going on right then. Although I was grieving more for D than M at that point, I hopped in my car and beelined it over there. It was good, and I'm glad I went. We shared stories and memories of M for a good hour before loading ourselves in cars and visiting his parents to share our good memories. They were encouraged by the sharing, but I could see how torn up they were. It must be hard, to have memories of their son constantly surrounding them... even with D, I'm so far removed from the situation that my grieving comes in spurts. If I were back home with the S's, the agony of my heart would be unceasing.

The language that I'm hearing over and over again is, no surprise, that of the hope of seeing these two again. SDA's believe in the resurrection of the righteous at the second coming of Jesus, that death is but a "dreamless sleep" until then, and that the righteous will spend all eternity in heaven. I was raised hearing and reading and believing this version of things, but as I sat in that room with all the other teary-eyed young people and adults, I realized, much as I did when SOULS came last year, that I don't believe that anymore.

When C came home, I turned to him and said, "I think I'm an atheist." He replied, "...Congratulations?"

I should make it clear that C has never pressured me in any way to leave my beliefs or my church and adopt his viewpoint. He's listened to what I have to say, sat through my explanations of Bible passages and church doctrine, and even listened attentively as I read him Case for a Creator on the trip to and from the Renaissance Festival. He has not hesitated to share his side of things, of course, but his point of view is that I can believe whatever I want, but the important thing is that I believe it for myself and because I have thought it out myself. He doesn't want me to believe and follow something just because other people are influencing me to do so (which includes being afraid of disappointing people by adopting a different viewpoint). Have his beliefs influenced me? Absolutely yes, but that's because as I've begun to question and think for myself these past few years, my church's version of things made less and less sense. God made less and less sense. I began to cobble together my own philosophy, based on my observations of the world around me, and then when I was exposed to C's point of view, well... the two were very similar.

I'm not set in any particular belief system at this point. I'm still... in flux, I guess you could say. I'm not an atheist in reality, for I still believe in the existence of God, or a higher power, or whatever, but... although I believe in God, I don't believe in God. Do you see the distinction?

Honestly? I've found that I'm much happier, balanced, and accepting now that I've left Christianity. The whole "atheists are immoral heathens" thing is so not true. Atheists are some of the best people that I know. I know some really good Christians, too, but I think it has more to do with the person than the belief system. Don't get me wrong-- Christianity has a great philosophy, and if people would live life the way that Jesus espoused the world would be a heck of a lot better place. And that's what I'm trying to do-- live the life that Jesus advocated... except without the God part.

I've heard that without God you can't love other people, that there's no source of goodness without him.  Since I no longer believe that I'm an unworthy person who needs saving from myself, I'm free to see the goodness and love that I have inside of me. It comes from me, from a decision to love the people around me, and so many other people have made that decision independent of any kind of divine mandate or indwelling. Atheists, the supposedly heartless immorals, have done a damn lot of good in the world for no reason other than that they saw the suffering and neediness of their fellow human beings and wanted to relieve it.

I've also heard that being an atheist diminishes the sanctity of life, makes it just some happenstance thing that has no consequence or bearing. While I suppose that's true, in a way (for they don't believe that they are the metaphorical center of the universe as Christians do), I think it brings as great or greater a reverence for life as the belief of creation by a personal deity. Consider these two quotes:

“Every atom in your body came from a star that exploded. And, the atoms in your left hand probably came from a different star than your right hand. It really is the most poetic thing I know about physics: You are all stardust. You couldn’t be here if stars hadn’t exploded, because the elements - the carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, iron, all the things that matter for evolution and for life - weren’t created at the beginning of time. They were created in the nuclear furnaces of stars, and the only way for them to get into your body is if those stars were kind enough to explode. So, forget Jesus. The stars died so that you could be here today.” ― Lawrence M. Krauss

“We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Arabia. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively exceeds the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here.We privileged few, who won the lottery of birth against all odds, how dare we whine at our inevitable return to that prior state from which the vast majority have never stirred?” ― Richard Dawkins

The thing that really bothered me, the thing that really disturbed my previous lines of thinking, was a quote from Epicurus that I stumbled across that put a voice to the quailing doubts and angry questions I have about God. I began vacillating and questioning while I lived in ID, but there was too much at stake there for me to give full expression to most of my doubts. I broke out of one of the church's doctrines while there, and received a mighty backlash from it. That taught me not to rock the boat. But once I moved away, once the reputation of a wonderful family didn't rest upon my actions, I was free to pursue a path that made sense to me, one that resonated with both my being and my mind. I didn't come across this quote until that time, and it's probably a good thing, because if I had found it while I was still up north... I think all hell would have broken loose. It would have put me in quite the hard place emotionally and mentally, I can assure you.

"Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil? Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?"  - Epicurus [341–270 B.C.]

I guess I'll end with that. It sums it up pretty well for me.

I know that at the memorial on Friday (and whenever D's memorial is) I'll be hearing a lot about the Second Coming, and that's fine. To me, all this talk about seeing them again and Satan out there working hard, etc. simply sounds like people trying to make sense of the bad stuff that happens in the world, and clinging to a comforting thought because they cannot face the finality of loss. But I know that they really, really believe it, and it brings them comfort and hope, so... I'm not going to say a word. Not a peep from me.

To be brutally honest, though? I do miss having that comfort... the thought of seeing the ones I love again. I just don't want to truly say goodbye.

He's gone. He's really gone. As in, like, gone gone.

I know I said my goodbyes in February, but I find myself wishing that I had been there closer to the end... to say goodbye when he was actually on his way out. I know it's silly, but... maybe I just wish that I could have seen him again.

Then again, it's not the frail, sickly D that I miss. It's the robust, ruddy, mischievous twinkle in his eye D that I miss. I miss "Ay-a-yellow-filly-havayeeee" and Friday night worships with two guitars and lots of harmony. I miss special musics and Farmer's Markets and picking strawberries together in the cool dampness of the morning. I miss following him around the garden and learning so, so much from him. I miss starting seedlings together, and the funny instruction sheet he left for me, and the pride I took in being the first seedling babysitter to keep the plants alive (and healthy!). I miss the silly jokes, the birthday song that he wrote for me, and the solid advice and keen Biblical perspective. I miss the male voice in our nightly "Our Father". I miss, "Does anyone have anything they'd like to share?" from morning worships.

Oh god, I miss him so much!

And what sucks is that no one recognizes me as a grieving family member... Well, that's not true. C and the girls do, of course, but they get all these "We're so sorry" and "We're praying for you" condolences, but... I'm hurting too! It's not that I want the words, it's that I want the recognition that he was someone special to me, and I'd like to think that I was someone special to him too. He was a father to me. I've lost a dad, one of the only good ones I've ever known, and much too soon. I was looking forward to receiving advice on life, marriage, and gardening for years to come, and to introduce my kids to one of the wisest men that I know. I was looking forward to continued jokes and learning about gardening from him as I started my own for the first time.

The grieving comes and goes. I cried a lot yesterday morning, but once I got to work I stopped crying and got busy... and then I couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop doing stuff. I finally forced myself to lie down and do deep breathing around 9:30. I know I overdid it, but whatever. I just took extra painkillers and called it good. I didn't even wake up in pain this morning, which was really strange for me. A rare experience. Sure, as the day wears on the pain creeps in and crescendoes, but again... extra painkillers.

Today I was just kinda numb (and exhausted)... until I heard a song on the radio. And then I started blogging and the tears just won't stop now.

I know that he's not suffering, sick, or in pain any longer, and that gives me intellectual peace... but it doesn't stop the hurt.

My heart is broken.

Not to mention that a young friend from church that I grew up with was shot and killed yesterday. Two in one day. That was hard. I mean, I watched this kid grow up. We were friends. I sang at his 8th grade graduation. We went hiking together last fall. And now he's gone. At only 19.

Life is sobering. It's beautiful, if your eyes are open, but it's also somber and uncertain. What an exquisitely painful mix that is.

When I packed up some stuff from the apartment on my way home from work, I found a jar of grape juice that D canned. I hadn't opened it yet, because I was waiting for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is it... I'm going to open it and drink to his memory... and cry all the while.

I miss my father. Life isn't fair. And cancer sucks.

Here's the song I heard on the radio. I'm going to post it on J and K's Facebook pages... I think it will be meaningful for them, too.

Received the call this morning that D passed away.

Every time I see, think, or type those words, my breath catches in my throat and hot tears sting my eyes.

If I thought I was done before, I underestimated the depths of doneness one can sink to.

But I will go to work, because I need the money, and because I need something mindless to do.

My heart hurts. I can't imagine how C and the girls are feeling...

I sat down and wrote D a letter and gave it to him today. I cried while writing it, naturally, but it was totally worth it. After reading it, D's eyes shone with tears and he said, "This means more to me than you know." I asked if I could give him a hug, and we had our first real hug. He is so thin and fragile that I was a little hesitant, but it was okay. I'm really glad that I went about it this way... and C read it too and cried. She said it was beautiful. J is going to read it tonight.

Here's the letter. (Comp dying, no time for commentary.)

Dear D,

As I’m sure you know, my reasons for coming back to K didn’t involve the breathtaking scenery, nor the forgotten joys of a snowy day. Nope, I came back to see you!

Honestly, I was really saddened when I found out that you won’t be able to attend my wedding. It’s not that I don’t understand, because I totally do, but I had been looking forward to having you there because you have become an important part of my life.

This is the part where I get sappy.

We’ve been rather circumspect when it comes to any emotions or attachment to each other, as evidenced by our awkward side hugs on momentous occasions... but I feel that it is important, for me at least, to be honest and forthright in what you’ve come to mean to me and what a significant role you’ve played in my life. I feel that I may not get another chance, and I want to say it while I can. That’s also the reason I came up here. I know that tomorrow is not guaranteed to any of us, and for all we know I could pass away before you ever do, but it’s fairly obvious that the cancer is taking a big toll on you... and since you’re not coming to the wedding, I was afraid that I’d never get to see you again.

As you know, I haven’t exactly had a wealth of positive male role models in my life. With the exception of my grampa, every male that was supposed to have a significant guiding influence in my life either abandoned or abused me, sometimes both. (And you remember that whole fiasco with B...) I didn’t know what it meant to have a father (though now I have R).

But when I came to live with you guys, I watched you interact with your girls and your wife... and I began to see what a man truly should be. I began to understand what I needed to look for in a husband some day, and I even began to understand the imagery of God as our “father” a little. That one had always been lost on me. 

I have a list of 3 men in my life that I can truly hold up as examples of what a man should be like, what a father should be like... and you’re pretty much tops on that list. I am not sure if you sensed this or not, but I came to see you as my own dad, in a way. Granted, I haven’t been around that long, but... I felt like you took me under your wing as I worked with you in the garden and at Farmer’s Market, and honestly it was really strange for me to figure out how to relate to an older man in a safe way but I always knew that you were a totally safe person and I could trust you, right from the beginning.

I know the girls and C are struggling with the thought of losing you, but I am too. I’m going to miss you so much... I already do, because I’ve moved away, but... this is different. I feel like I just started getting to know you, and I wish that we’d had more time. I look up to you so much, and I so admire the way that you relate to your family. I see the same kind of “family man” characteristics in C, and it gives me peace of mind. I know I’ve said before that it was you and C that showed me that a happy marriage can and does exist, and it’s that example that I’m clinging to as I rock on the seas of fear. Even now, in such a trying time, you guys are still in love, still faithful... and even when you’re so sick and feeling so poorly, I can still see the love that you lavish on your family. It really just brings me to my knees, and I’m so grateful to have known you and to have had that example that I can look back on.

D, I love you like a father. I consider you to be one of my parents, which is why I’m so sad that you won’t be at my wedding. I really wanted to share that with you, but... it’s really the marriage that’s so important, not the wedding day, and you’ve helped prepare me for that and give me a solid foundation, so it’s okay. That’s the greatest wedding gift I could ever ask for.

I hope that you consider me to be one of your daughters, and I also hope that you know that, despite the short time that I was with you guys, you changed my life irrevocably. You set the hope of something better in my heart in so many ways-- familialy, relationally, spiritually, and, yes, agriculturally :) I can no longer settle for less, thanks to you. And you definitely awakened the spirit of the gardener within me. Rest easy knowing that your legacy will live on in my raised strawberry beds. (Okay, I’m teasing you now, but seriously-- I learned so much here and my passion for gardening was cultivated, no pun intended.)

I love you, and I’m going to miss you so very much. I have and will continue to shed tears, but I can also smile because you have so richly blessed me and I have a storehouse of precious memories to comfort myself with.

Love sincerely,

your daughter,

C

It's really amazing how important body fat is, especially in the face. When you see someone with no fat at all, you instinctively assume they're very, very ill.

In D's case, that's true. I've come to my own conclusions on the matter, after gleaning info from the girls and from C, and... I really don't expect him to live much past the wedding. He will not be able to attend, that much is clear (even in the state he's in now, he wouldn't be able to attend), and C will be staying with him. He should not be by himself in this state. Honestly... I'd give it two months. Max. I think that the wedding may be a time of deep joy, but also deep sorrow, as I think that D will be passing away about that time. I know the girls are planning to come down and play music for our wedding, but they may choose not to if D passes away. I understand, and I'll be planning back up music. The only major hitch in that is that my wedding coordinator is planning to travel down with them, and if they don't come she can't come, so I don't know what I'll do... probably hand the reins of the day off to Mom and/or D, who I'm sure will work beautifully in tandem. Mom will be walking me down the aisle, so D will probably take the bulk of the work... and I'll be there to help decorate and such... it's just making sure the ceremony and reception run smoothly, and the clean-up afterward. I'll make sure to talk to them and to H about this possibility.

I don't know when to talk to D seriously and say my "parting words"... I'm thinking about writing him a letter, because I do better in writing than I do just saying things... I'd give him the letter a day or two before I leave, to give him time to respond or bring up the topic if he wants. I need to tell him how much I love and appreciate him, and what he's meant to me as a father.

Good grief, I'm tearing up just thinking about this... Ugh! Stupid emotions! Go away!!!

Yesterday was interesting, but fun. I spent two plus hours wandering the local mall while K and C were in a bank setting up accounts for the two of them. The reason it took so long was that the bank lady walked K through every step of dealing with her account, so she would understand it all, and it went really well. I didn't mind. I ended up wandering into a jewelry store called Harry Ritchie's and talking to a saleslady with the same name as me! She cleaned my ring for free, and it looks like new :) Anyway, as we talked about wedding bands for C and how to customize a ring for him, she told me about the company and their policies and what they offer customers, and I was extremely impressed. They take great care of the people who buy from them and the jewelry they purchase, and I decided that's where I'm getting C's ring from. I ended up browsing the ladies' wedding sets as well, and fell in love with blue diamonds. I know C has an idea of the ring he wants to create for me, and he really wants to get me a diamond, so I want it to be blue. The color is phenomenal-- it reminds me a lot of a London Blue Topaz-- and they're cheaper than your standard clear diamonds.

While browsing the rings, I found one that I absolutely fell in love with. I mean, head over heels. I know, I know, C wants to create that certain ring for me that he's got in his head, but man... this ring was just... *sigh* I dunno. I can't find the exact one online, but I found a couple that look really similar, and one even has blue diamond accents! I'd want the center stone (which wasn't actually one whole stone, but a bunch of little ones that actually looked like one super-sparkly stone. I didn't notice it wasn't one stone until about 5 minutes into examining it!) to be a blue diamond, and the rest would be fine as regular white diamonds. Here she is:

It looks most like the top ring, but the diamonds were farther down the swirls, so it was metal swirls above and below with diamond accents on the sides. The center stone was bigger, though still round, and made up of a bunch of little diamonds, and I would want blue diamonds (see bottom ring). It had the little accent stones on the sides that were kinda triangular, and looked like little leaves. It was just so simple, dainty, and gorgeous... *sigh* I told C that I found a ring I love :) Though it is expensive (or at least seems so to me!), it isn't, as far as diamond rings go (and when you think about the fact that I'll be wearing it every day for the rest of my life, it kind of puts it in perspective), plus it's usually on sale, and they also have promotions where you can get money off of your purchase in addition to in-house financing. The only problem is that for the initial purchase and creation of the ring, you need to be in the store. After that, you can pay over the phone, but the purchase needs to be in person. Aaaaand, they're only a northwest store.

Oh darn. Guess that means I have to drag C up here ;) (Like I've been planning to...) I'm going to show him the ring online, and we'll see what he says about taking an ID trip sometime this or next year.

But I overdid it yesterday, what with doing yoga and running errands and walking the mall for a couple of hours, and then giving a massage on top of that... Oh, I am feeling it today! And I had coffee yesterday... bad girl, I know. I need to be good to myself... but I felt like being good to myself yesterday was allowing myself a treat. And it sure was delicious :)

I'll be seeing H later today, and we'll be going over wedding stuff... so excited! Last night, after errands were all finished, we ate supper and were going to watch a movie but couldn't get the tv working. Instead, we all sat around and talked, and it was really good. W, J's intended, was there, and I got to know him a little better. (He was the one I massaged, after all!) Of course, the topics turned to theology, but it was cool because D got really into the conversation, and it was like I could see the old D just shining through again. It was a good feeling.

Also, while at the mall, my friend L from this area called me, and we had a really good conversation. I have a few guy friends that I can have real good convos with, like JC, and L (to my surprise!) turned out to be one of them. We talked for a good 45 minutes before I had to go because I got another call. He told me all about how he met and married his wife, who is a total sweetie, and we talked about how I met and got together with C, and we talked theology and church, and we actually believe much the same way. It was a relief to know that I'm not the only one who's studied and had experiences and come to the same conclusions! It was interesting, too, because some of his comments about convos we've had in the past and conclusions he drew from them showed me that he is actually very, very insightful, and he's basically got me pegged, even though I didn't realize it :) I also realized that I give away a lot more of my inner life than I previously thought. I'm not as inscrutable as I think that I am. Alas. lol

So it's been good already, being here, and I'm very glad I came... no matter how difficult it is to see D this way. At first, I felt like the D I knew was already dead and gone, but last night showed me that he's still in there... buried under layers of suffering. I understand how that is in a lot of ways, because the fibro had me so beaten down with fatigue and pain at one point that I didn't even realize I wasn't myself until I got on the meds that have helped buoy me back up closer to normal. For D, though, there will be none of that. At this point, the only release he will have will be death... and I almost wish it upon him.

He's in so much pain... he's so sick... I don't like seeing him suffer so. I know he wants to hang on, which is why he wanted to try the chemo, because I mean, who wants to die? Of course he wants to stick around as long as possible, to see his girls get married, to spend as much time with his wife as possible, but... I mean... he's so sick. I almost wish he'd give up, if only for his sake.

And I feel like a total traitor writing that. It's one thing to wish your enemies dead, but to wish your loved ones dead? It's a strange, strange feeling, even if it is motivated by love.

Ugh. Ugh and Argh. I'm tired of fighting back tears, and I'm tired of crying, 'cause here I go again.

Damn. I knew this was gonna be hard, I just didn't know how hard. At least when Larry died a few years ago, it was sudden. There was nothing any of us could have done. I didn't get to say goodbye, but he didn't linger, and he was the happiest he'd ever been when he went.

I'm so glad I don't live here anymore. I'd be broken beyond repair. Even now, I feel myself cracking...

Oh D... I don't want you to go, and yet I don't want you to stay if it means you have to live like this...

This? This is... yeah. I'm fairly certain that this is hell.

Dear God...

I've been reading J's blog posts and...

...it just hit me.

I've been so concerned about D making it to the wedding, but if he does... I'll be saying goodbye.

I might have already had my goodbye.

I can't stop crying right now...

Goodnight.

It's one thing to live with an entire family of people who eat like you do, but when you're out on your own... it can get easier to "cheat". Especially when "dirt poor" is the income bracket above you.

I've been really good. I mean, really good, and really strict, for a really long time. Like, years.

But lately, as I've been working through stuff, the cravings for the good ol' comfort food come back, and there's no allergen free haven to turn to in my time of gastric need.

So, tonight... I decided that I've had it.

I ate a slice of pizza.

I think it was the best thing I've ever eaten.

And you know what?

...I feel perfectly fine.

Which is ironic, considering that I often hurt quite a bit when I'm being good and strict and staying off of "bad" foods.

Next item of death?

Cheeseburger.

Oh yeah, baby. ;)

(Either that or cheesecake.)

(...can you tell I miss cheese?)

(...and bread?)

Anyway, I've heard this song on the radio a few times now, and I really like it. I resonate with the lyrics.
*Christian Rock Alert*

Now... I'm off to go make myself a cup of coffee and do the dishes.

Bring it on, colon. I hate you, too.

As a dear friend pointed out, what's the point of a secret blog unless you can write about your secrets? It's been driving me crazy... I feel like I've been living a double life. I need to blog... but I can't... because I need to keep this secret...

I just found out two days ago that my little sister is pregnant. She is, apparently, a little scared, but mostly excited. She's almost 20.

I don't really know how I feel about it... I mean... I feel sorry for the baby, 'cause she's very moody. But maybe having a child will change some things? Her boyfriend had better be a man and step up to be a part of this child's life, or he's gonna have a colporteur-turned-headhunter hot on his trail.

She's going to stay at home with Mom and R, and the timing is near perfect (as far as these things go), because they just sold the house in IN, and R's been wanting to remodel the house anyway. (They bought it with that intention.) So, now he's going to remodel it so that K has a room and a little nursery area in the basement, J will have a room and bathroom in the basement, and Jr will have his own room upstairs. Mom and R will get a master suite upstairs, as well.

Also, Mom will be around for guidance, to help her. Plus I know Mom is stoked about finally having a grandbaby- she's been bugging me about that for years!

And I almost made her dream come true.

I just don't see how it's fair, really, that K- the immature, moody, not-a-functioning-member-of-society-yet one- gets to keep her baby (so far), and I... I'm having a miscarriage. How is that fair?

Technically, I'm not pregnant, because I haven't gotten a positive test back yet. It was too early to know. But when you know your body... sometimes you just know. Granted, I vacillated between thinking, "Oh yeah, for sure I'm pregnant, there's no way I'm NOT!" and "Yeah, right. I must be crazy! How could I be pregnant? No, I'm certainly making this up, it's all in my head, etc." But the more time went on, the more certain I was. 96% sure.

And now? Now... nothing.

Life will go on as planned, I guess.

And I'm slightly devastated. Just as I predicted.

The whole "I don't want kids, I don't want a family, I don't want to settle down" thing... nothing but a protective shell. If I say I don't want it, then when I don't get it, I won't be crushed. If you don't hope, you can't be disappointed. This showed me that I do want a family, I do want a husband, I do want children... and I really wanted this baby.

I mean, sure, it was going to completely screw up my life, and I was scared as all get out, but... it's a child. My child.

I didn't tell anyone, for understandable reasons. I mean, it wasn't even confirmed yet. And there's always that off chance that I was wrong, and that there was something else accounting for my typical pregnancy symptoms.

But I knew. And I allowed myself to get excited, to look towards the future...

It was going to be a baby girl, I think.

But now it's nothing.

I'm still cramping, in a lot of pain, and bleeding, but the bleeding hasn't gotten very heavy yet, and I haven't passed any big clots yet, so.... maybe there's still a chance? *Revision: I think it's too late, now...*

I'm trying everything I can to keep this baby. I can't bring myself to dismiss this situation with a trite, "The Lord Knows Best", because my heart is aching and bleeding too.

But either way... Mom gets to be a Gramma. And I look forward to holding my first niece or nephew. A December baby, I think, which coincides perfectly with my annual visit home! :)

And it was pretty funny that K and I were pregnant at the same time... Poor R. lol.

I don't know how this will all turn out. But I know that I have a lot of people that will love me regardless of what happens... and that's a great comfort.

I've been reading Pilgrim's Progress through again lately. Since I haven't been feeling well for a day or two, I've made quite a bit of progress. (I'd say I'm about half through.)

I came to the part where Christian's burden is released- when he climbs to the top of Golgotha and views the Suffering One on the cross.

It occurred to me... I don't think I really get it. I've read the story of the crucifixion, and it has impacted me- don't get me wrong! But I don't think I truly, truly "get it".

I'm also reading another book, called "He Loves Me!", and I came across this series of quotes this morning.

"...it was not so incredible to Abraham when the God who had touched his life asked him to sacrifice his only son. All the other gods in Canaan did it, why not his? But this God was not a false god like the others deemed interested in human sacrifice. This was the true God. He was going to reveal himself to Abraham and wanted him to know this God had nothing in common with Molech, Baal, or Asherah."

"Abraham had faced the ultimate test in his growing trust in God. Even though he was willing to sacrifice Isaac, he discovered that God didn't really want or need the sacrifice." (The author means the act of a human sacrifice, not Abraham's willingness to sacrifice all for God.)

"In this one act, God drew a line that separated him from all the false gods men had ever created. The false gods demanded sacrifices for their own appeasement. This God provided the sacrifice we needed to finally cover our shame and allow us to know him as he really is."

That's when I knew that I didn't get it. I thought, Man, I'm so visual! If only there were some way that I could see it, I know it would impact me...


So I watched The Passion of the Christ, for the first time ever.

I'd been putting it off. I was scared. I knew that, once I watched it, those images would be seared into my brain forever...

And now I get it.

At least, more than I did before.

I cried. No, more than that- I sobbed, I screamed, I wept and I pleaded with the soldiers on the screen to just stop hurting him!! That's God! What are you doing?!

And as I watched Jesus being tortured, I thought about pain. I thought about the fact that I'm hurting today, and it's hard to walk. I compared my pain to his pain... yeah, right. Mine is but a wisp of a shadow, even when solely comparing the physical aspect. How could I ever claim that God does not understand pain??

I also thought about the marvelous machinery of the human body. I thought about how Jesus was there, creating Adam... tenderly and meticulously sculpting and arranging the various tissues, muscles and nerves. I thought a lot about nerve endings. I thought about how desperately, wickedly ironic it was that the very aspects of God's creation he formed with such delicate care were now being exploited and used against him. God made pain to protect... and now, he was subjected to the utmost limits of it.

I thought about my healing. I thought about how much hope I have found, how much happiness and joy... and I realized that this... this... unspeakably horrific and unutterably heroic moment in time is the underpinning and undergirding- the very backbone- of all the good things I have found. How can something so good come out of something so ghastly?

"By his stripes, we are healed."

As sobs racked my body, I realized with great clarity that this is the cost of healing. And he wanted to give that gift to me. He did it willingly... so that I might be free.

Amazing love... how can it be that you, my God, would die... for me?

What kind of God is this? What kind of person goes through that... willingly? What kind of a person is woven from the fibers of such pure LOVE that, after hours upon hours of unspeakable tortures, and in the midst of yet another brutal assault, they can crack open swollen, blood-drenched lips to rasp out, "Forgive them"?

If I never knew before, I know now... and I will serve this God for as long as I live.

Now I understand why the apostles were so fervent. They got it.

Last night I dreamt that C died. I had 2 dreams about it, actually, back to back.

In the first dream, I found out he died. I was, needless to say, totally devastated and heartbroken. I spent the rest of the dream at his place, sorting through his stuff and taking back what was mine. That was hard. I broke down crying at one point, but I only let myself sob once or twice, because there were people around. I'll cry later, when I'm by myself.

Then, in the second dream, I was volunteering somewhere, picking up trash in some fenced-in place. Random other people I knew were there, so I was trying desperately to keep my composure, but the loss got to me, and I started crying. Lo and behold, Breezy was there and asked what was wrong, so I was able to tell her. I knew she would understand. And she did. She cried with me, hugged me, and I felt so much better.

What a ridiculous way to spend the night.

I just discovered that I have trichotillomania. No, it's not a contagious disease, it's, essentially, a compulsive urge to pull out my hair. I've been doing it for years and tried to stop, albeit unsuccessfully. It's good to know that some others out there share this weirdness. I do notice that it increases with stress or depression, and it's ritualistic in a way- I only pull out certain types of hair. Two schools of thought on this one: 1. an impulse-control disorder, or 2. a bad habit. If I choose #1, does that make me less of a loser?

Dear God,

I thought about driving off a cliff on the way home today. At first, I thought I might just go into the river-- it looked so... pure. It rushed and surged past, glinting and ice-cold. I thought that maybe it would cleanse me, purge me. But then I remembered... I don't like the cold. It might be neat to watch the bubbles rise and the current spin past me from behind glass... to just wait until the darkness claims me... but I don't like the cold. So then I thought that a cliff might do well. I can just imagine soaring through the air in one last graceful arc... the freedom might overwhelm me.

But then, I thought, You know... that would be an easy way for my adversary to get rid of me. No way! I'm not going down that easy! I'm sticking around, if only because I hate you! I WILL fight, because you can't take me down. I won't let you.

Why do I hate myself? It seems that, no matter the scenario, I cannot escape the snide, condemnatory voice in my head. I tell myself, No, it's not true! You're being lied to! It doesn't seem to make a difference.

God, am I doing this all wrong? Am I failing? Am I not doing this, or something, anything, right?

I'm doing the best I can. I think I'd rather have it this way than trying to work through the checklist each day.

Why do these thoughts of killing myself come? And why, even though I dismiss them, do they linger in the back of my head? Why am I depressed? Why do I get these funks? Am I blaming too much on my past? Is there just something fundamentally flawed within me? Do I have a mental illness? Do I have a disorder? Is there a reason I experience these things, or am I just not doing it right?

God, I don't want to be this way. I don't! If I could wake up tomorrow and be different, I would. No, I would NOT choose this pain. So why did you? Who are you, anyway? What kind of a god voluntarily puts himself at the mercy of the demons that torment me? In my darker moments, I might just tell you that you shouldn't have done it. Obviously, it hasn't fixed me. Go on... save yourself. Noble, right?

I wondered tonight, on the drive home... I think I care entirely too much about "the church" and what they think of me. I'm just afraid of being attacked... rejected... of more stones added to the weight that already crushes the breath from my lungs. But, really... who cares what they think? They're not the ones that let me into heaven. Besides, if they kick me out, I know a few sunday churches that would be happy to have me, warts and all. Sad, isn't it? "The Church of Destiny" strikes fear into my heart. Also, the fact that if I walked away I would be considered "fallen", possibly even damned, really irks me. (Being irked...that's so not Christ-like. *sigh*)

I'm sorry for my confusion. I'm sorry for my rebellion, for my pain, for my darkness, and for my instability.

I'm scared. Backpedaling in my mind. I don't like him, I don't. If I don't like him, nothing will ever happen (because he might be "too old" for me anyway), and if nothing ever happens, then he will never have to deal with my pain, my issues, and he will never see my darkness, and I will never be rejected, and...

I just want to be loved so desperately... I'm afraid that I'll jump at the very first chance. Any chance. Just love me. Don't leave me. Don't hurt me. Above all, don't condemn me.

I cry entirely too much for my own good these days.

Goodnight, God.
I'll see you tomorrow.

I just re-read my last post.

Am I a jerk, or what? "It's a good thing that Larry died..."

I think my point was made, but... sheesh.

I don't know. I mean, death is one the few things that I've been sheltered from. The last time somebody relatively close to me died was... 2006? And even then, I was away at academy, so I never really had to face it. They just weren't at church anymore when I went home on breaks. Before that was Aunt Vi, but we weren't very close, either. Before that was Great Gramma. I cried over that one. I did love her.

By far the most traumatic and memorable, however, was when I was 5. Great grampa. We were best friends, he and I (at least I thought so). He would sit sprawl-legged on the floor with me, and we would roll an orange back and forth between the two of us. Sometimes my aim was bad, and the orange would roll up his pants leg! He would jump around and say, "There's a bug in my pants! Somebody get that bug out of my pants!" What a kick I got out of that. :)

When he died of lung cancer, I crawled underneath his bed and wouldn't come out. The next thing I remember is sitting next to Mom and crying my heart out as they wheeled him past us and through the doors on a covered stretcher.

I grieve pretty deeply when animals die. Did I think that a human friend of mine would evoke any less of a reaction?

It just freaks me out to feel so much sorrow... so my mind is blocking it out... drugging myself with inadequate sleep and internet over-usage and country music.

I think it will really hit me come Friday night... when he's not at group. Boy. That's going to be hard.

How... how can he just be GONE?! Quite frankly, it ticks me off! It's like, nothing is safe. Nothing. Why even bother to get close to anyone? They might just keel over. Or get smashed. Or drown. Or any number of ways that one could cease to exist.

Why are my abusers still alive, yet my friend, a good man, is dead? If anyone is going to stop breathing, let it be the ones who inflict so much pain.

I don't understand all this. I don't get why this has to be. I was just getting used to the idea of pain as something that you don't necessarily need to run away from, or anesthetize yourself from, and... now this. What good does this pain do? I almost want to say, Let me be the one to sleep. Then I won't have to hurt for the one who is gone. However, my passing would leave just as much pain behind.

So, then... pain is the reality of life. I see.

I really, really need to sleep.