But not me. So there. It will make sense if you put it together. Or it won’t.
May I remind all and sundry that weird stuff happens around me and people tell me things that I don’t necessarily want to hear.
Due to popular demand, I start seeing my shrink again next week. (What an odd statement. It’s not as if she got so small she disappeared, and is now embiggened.)
Four years ago, just prior to The Kid moving here for the first time, my shrink told me that I was done. Finished. Emotionally healthy. (And the crowd stampedes to the exit, screaming with laughter)
Katboy is concerned that I am not processing my grief well.
My best friend died a year ago on May 14.
Katboy thinks that my grief is debilitating.
It’s true that I feel crummy most of the time, and I have a lot of tension headaches caused by clenching my jaw so that I don’t scream, cry or punch someone. (Coincidentally, those are all of the same things I tried not to do while in my last contract negotiations. I didn’t scream or punch anyone. I think I would have been calmer if that had not been the same day that I had to go and pick up Steve’s ashes.)
So it’s back to the shrink for me.
I can’t even begin to think where I should start.
The Kid moved here, was here for two weeks before he was cuckolded back to Arizona by his girlfriend, then he got beat up, then I had to participate in an emotional intervention for hims because he was living in his car and was weird and obsessive about the girl. I dragged the Kid back. Then he was here, became un-crazy, then went to NM and graduated from High School. I went back to F-Town (The sixth circle of Hell, without the shoe department.) I had something akin to a psychotic episode because F-town holds nothing but horrifying memories for me.
Then I got a job I love, didn’t see The Kid for over a year (not by choice, just circumstance)
Then a family member’s substance abuse problem boiled over and began to affect a lot of other people.
And then my best friend got diagnosed with liver cancer. He lived exactly two days past the three months he was given.
I was his primary care giver. The Kid rallied and moved down here to help.
The first thing I did on Mother’s Day last year was sign Steve’s DNR papers.
Then Steve died, I had a nervous breakdown in my boss’s office, and spent a lot of days just staring straight ahead.
I would like to say that things have improved.
It’s not so much a sense of impending doom, it’s more of a I could give less than a crap about anything.
So where should I start?