So much has happened since I wrote last. Things ave been busy as I’ve been getting back into the swing of things. I went home for Mother’s Day, which was very unpleasant. I don’t know how to act around my mom. I spend time with her and help her with things. I even let her buy me socks and underwear when I was home because I know that on some level it brings her joy and I needed some new socks and underwear. My mom and I have never had much of a relationship, so it feels weird to start trying now. And it’s not that I haven’t tried in the past. She’s just closed off and I’m not, so that creates problems, or at least it has in the past. Of course I can’t change her, and I’ve stopped trying. We do talk more since dad’s death, but the conversations are strained and uncomfortable at times. I feel so sad for her. She doesn’t need my pity though. I also feel guilty for not being there, but only sometimes. Most of the time I feel relieved and then I feel sorry for my siblings. How do you stick together as a family when you weren’t close to begin with? Dad was the glue. He was the patriarch, whether he wanted to be or not. He was the peacemaker.
I cry fairly often now. It seems like the shock has dissipated and I’m starting to feel the loss more and more. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had a lot of time to deal with the emotions. They get all backed up inside me, mashed together with other emotions and then come out at weird times, rarely inappropriate. I went to see Spider-Man 3 recently. I was experiencing an anxiety relapse of sorts. I used to have severe panic problems that I worked on and got rid of. Recently I’ve been experiencing them again on occasion, which makes me really angry at myself. I used to beat up on myself a lot because of it. Dad was always there as the voice of reason, and now he isn’t. So I get sad about that, on top of being anxious and then sprinkle that with a little resentment toward my mate and you’ve got a breakdown on your hands. And that’s what happened. I knew what was going on though and I explained it all to my mate, but it sure hurt. I cried and cried. This big mush of emotions was pouring out of my eyes and nose. Afterward it felt good though.
I cry when I’m alone for the most part. Sometimes I cry when we’re in bed. On my way to work or more likely on my way home is common. I used to speak to my dad on my way home from work. It was habit. It was time I had to talk to him with undivided attention. I miss talking to him so much. This Father’s Day is going to hurt like hell.
