Processing and typing.
Mostly processing and mostly typing.
Big gaps between processing and lots of pauses with typing.
Hopefully some processing and/or typing happening at some point in the future. Meh.
Death and Dying.
I don’t want to be the bigger person right now.
I don’t want to adult.
I feel so devastated. And emotional. And blah!
I don’t want to accept that your inner child was breaking down today. Because I’m not okay with your behaviour. –> Plus I still have epic anger and resentment at you leaving me with NM whilst you fucked off out of there… But sure, let’s play happy families.
The funeral was today.
I so want to be part of something. Part of a family. And part of what I experienced during this dying-grieving phase was beautiful and powerful and raw… And the other part hurt like a bitch, felt like I was left out to dry and it triggered every god-damn trigger button I’ve ever had.
And I want to know what it all means. What part of what you said should I be listening to? Why are you contradicting yourself? Why do I have to accept you if you don’t accept all of me. What is this ‘family’ thing anyway?
Why didn’t you ask me about what I was saying? Why was there an awkward-cannot-revisit-that silence instead of compassion?
I’m looking at all of these people that I’m related to… asking, searching for something. Some same-ness, some normality. Some sensibility, some togetherness.
“OMG – Galaxy Girl – you get your weirdness from this Aunt!” – said by my gorgeous aunt, referring to her gorgeous aunt.
I want to know more!
How are you weird? Are you into the things I’m into? Do you say things that I say? What is this weirdness that our family has defined? And in what ways to we share it? Is it a family trait or a human trait? Who else shares it in
your our family?
Is it an “our” for family?
Because like, in all honesty… where the fuck have you all been?
For my whole fucking life.
And why did I even loose baby then… if NM didn’t even come to the funeral?!!
I was holding onto that. Baby died to protect me and Baby from NM – who would have found out from funeral that I was pregnant (4.5 months pregnant, it would have been) and initiated her epic narcissistic fuck-ness onto that. SO what the fuck now?! Why did Baby go if she didn’t even come to the funeral?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad. I think. That she didn’t go to the funeral. But part of me spent so much time and energy preparing for it, that it’s not even a relief that it didn’t happen. Is that the most hypocritical question to have ever been asked?
Because like, doesn’t it just have to happen down the track? What about my brother’s wedding? What about when NM’s mum dies? Surely we’ll both be at that funeral? Actually, maybe not. I don’t freaking know! And if that Nanna could politely not die for a little while, that would be great.
Was it just a narcissistic play? NM saying she’s coming despite no-one wanting her.
What is going on in her world? Where is she at? What is her next game plan? Did she gather information? Did she come to the funeral? Did she see my new number plates? Did she intend on staying away the whole time, and say she was coming just for the elusive game? Did she realise that there wasn’t going to be a narcissistic supply at the funeral? – Wasn’t there – maybe there was…? Was it exposure? What is going on, and why did she make that decision? All of them actually. In her entire life. Up to, and including that moment.
And what now?
For all of it.
For Baby. For family. For NM. For death and dying and processing and grief.