It took a lot out of me to write the stuff about my father and the me-child back on the 17th. March is a hard month for me. My father died on the 17th. My grandmother died on the 17th. Did I mention my grandfather died three weeks after my father--completely unexpected, a young man himself. Yes, well, a little hospital error. You know, like two doses of the same medicine because the first doctor to administer it never noted it. That was interesting. Funerals all around. To top it off, in the middle, is my mom's birthday. My mother has been through a lot. Her birthday was yesterday. We haven't spoken, except for brief brushes, for six months. It isn't what I wanted, but it is desparately what I need. I used to breathe for my mom, and know that she would willingly give her last breath for me. But I started losing my breath, and she got more and more of it, somehwere along the line.
And that in the long run is the problem. Someone lives, someone dies. Smothering. Choking. Too near too long. Always afraid that separating would mean death, hers or mine, and knowing that it still may. The death of something, someone. A lifelong fear for obvious reasons, and for not so obvious reasons. And also the birth, which, if you haven't noticed, I've been in the middle of for some number of months. Individuating the therapist calls it. It sounded immediately like something I need to do on a few dozen fronts. Talks of triangles as a powerful dynamic, relationships in threes, they're everywhere you know.
So I'm trying to get through March, on the other side of which I expect to find my voice again. I breathed a lot into my posts earlier this month. And I ran out of breath. Just then, I got the sock in the gut I should have expected, losing my job. And in the very real every day concrete world place, I don't officially leave my job til April 1. So there's a lot I'm holding back. Not details, you know. I won't talk about those. Can't. But for the first time I'll be posting here as a free agent, and I am so ready to roar. I can say whatever I want to whomever I want. I can remove my little disclaimer at the bottom. This place will really be mine.
Yes, it's always been mine, you're right. And no, I rarely pull back on saying what I want to say. That's true. I swear I smoke and I fight here without giving a shit about the fact that more than a few folks at work know where this place is. But there have been times, on what I'm guessing are a couple dozen or more posts, where I've self-edited based on my role at work. I've pulled up short. Had to. There are certain things unbecoming an agency chick, you see.
So hurry the fuck up, March. I'm sick of you're annoying, traumatizing ass, and if you don't roar on out of here like a lion, I'm gonna tear you off the calendar for the rest of my natural life.
Change the time, spring ahead, whatever needs to be done. Just hurry up, will ya?
