14,155 Days Alive
38 Years Since Valerie’s Death
1 Slice of Checkerboard Cake Eaten
Warning: THIS IS NOT A HAPPY POST.
Discussion of death, mourning, and other heavy shit. Read at your own risk.
It’s the first Easter weekend since my mom has died. It’s so weird. Today is also the thirty-eighth anniversary of my sister’s passing. Easter Sunday 1986, so today. I thought it was the 31st, but according to Google, it was the 30th. I’m more likely to take my Google results over the faulty memory of my dead mother.
I’ve made sure to not be alone today. I took my partner, who has decided his nickname is now “Mac”, to breakfast this morning. Thom tagged along for the meal and we had fun. Then we dropped him at home so I could get a refill on one of the meds I take before we went to get both of our hairs trimmed at the local Great Clips.
I’m not doing okay. I’m depressed. I’m in pain. I’m terrified that I’m going to continue slogging along in a job I like but struggle to make ends meet and failing to do so in general. I’m worried about my family, my siblings.
I’m struggling to find joy in life. I keep trying to make plans so I have something to look forward to. But now… I’m just a failure.
I’m going to turn my attention back to game. I’m faking it and just want to go home. But I’m in so much pain and I want it to Stop.
Take your meds, folks.
Postmark Wonderland 