uuuugh, we're back.... sadness is here, desperation is here, anxiety about the number on the scale is definitely here!!!! How can it be that i have gained 100 lbs!!!! NOOOO!!!! i look at pix from the 80's and 90's, and i am so ashamed; and today, i am so fucking miserable, i just wanna crawl under the blankets and just not move, not do anything, not even think. how can it be that a number can have so much power over my mood? how can it be that a number can trigger so many ugly memories of being turned away, rejected, kept at an arm's distance, sometimes farther? i mean, how can a mother tell their child that their hair is not straight enough, that their feet are too big, their behind is too big, everything is too big. yet, give praise to the younger siblings because they are cuter, more graceful, athletic, etc.

then, on top of that is the fact that tomorrow is Sean's birthday... yes, 9 years after his death i still miss the preparations to celebrate him. sometimes i would be anxious because there was not enough money to do anything special, so we would combine his birthday with Erin's, the following week. but, when we did finally "make it', i would go all out making his favorite meal, spaghetti with meatballs from scratch. it would take all day to make, but it was so worth it to see the look of contentment as he enjoyed it. no extra gift,etc, just a big bowl of pasta with gravy and huge meatloaf sized balls of meat! now, i can't even get myself to make the dish - i just don't have it. i'm so tired! 9 years after the fact and i'm still tired.

my sister-friends have suggested that i try to make the dish as a celebration to bring joy into the day, to stop feeling so sad, because "Sean wouldn't want me to be sad". and i disagree, not that he wouldn't want me to be sad, but to think that making a meal is suddely going to break this cycle of sadness. i disagree wholeheartedly. this is not something that can be glossed over and covered with gravy and meatballs. this is a life time shared with a person who saw me at my worst and my best, and still chose to walk with me, and trusted me to provide care for him until his last day on earth. someone who in his pain, and his dementia, still wanted me to hug him and kiss him. someone who prayed angels over me, and prayed demons away from me. this was not your ordinary relationship. this was a story of trauma, endurance, survival, strength, empowerment, support, anchoring, oneness in every way, a love so deep that not even death could stop.

so what do i do with today??? i have meditated, i have read, i have listened, i have contemplated, i have prayed. what next? yoga, chores, walk, translation...

be still... breathe... silence... breathe, just breathe.