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Update on me.

Sorry I haven't been here. My emotional energy is at a low point by the time the kids get in bed and all I have brainspace for at that point is a sentence rarely posted to FB or a game of online boggle.

And then it boils down to, what can I say? It's the same stuff day after day. After three deaths in five years, there are few people who want to hear it anymore. Some people actually actively avoid me now because they feel so awkward--and I don't even talk about it with them in the first place, for crying out loud. And thanks to the Zoloft and Wellbutrin, I very rarely cry and am usually quite functional, so it's not like I'm weeping and frightening people.

And honestly. I don't even fucking know what to say. The Zoloft and Wellbutrin make this experience very different than Zach and my mom's death/grieving. I rarely cry, maybe once every 3 weeks. It's like part of my mind goes "this is just so fucking unbelievable, there is no way this really happened, i reject your reality and substitute my own." A vast part of my brain seems to be sticking its fingers in its ears going "la la la, she's not dead, can't hear you, la la la"...while at the same time being totally okay and allowing me to clean out her condo, do all the life insurance policy paperwork, file her will, put her condo on the market, etc. My brain has totally disassociated itself....just a big disconnect between the two sides. I don't know if it is strictly the meds or just survival mechanism after 3 deaths. And it's different than my mom because then I had only Kevin...and now I have Gabriel too. So I can't afford to lose my shit--Auntie Gail isn't here to pick up the slack. Pete and I are all the kids have, so I have to keep it together.

Anger drives me too. Anger at her. Anger at the total pit she let her condo become. Anger at her not filing for my mom's $15,000 life insurance policy or paying my mom's lawyer's final bill. Anger at her total disarray of paperwork so that I can't find the title to her car or several important bank statements. Anger that she didn't let me or Pete help her with her condo, with getting her phone line fixed, with doing the paperwork, etc. Anger that she didn't even ask. Anger that she didn't take care of herself physically. Anger that I found collection notices strewn in her paperwork and that I'm having to clean up those messes--and they were over bills that could have been straightened out and health insurance would have paid them after a simple 2 minute phone call, she had the money, dammit. Anger that now my boys have nothing and that Gabey is too little and he won't have memories of her. Anger that she left his whole mess for me to pick up. Anger that she didn't let me in to her heart. Anger that so many of my family's stories are now lost...gone....and I have so little to share with the boys.  Anger that we gave her a fresh start up here and she totally squandered it. Anger that she was so damned dysfunctional. Anger that Kevin has to go through yet another loss, another pain when not even 7 yet (Sept 11).

No one else will love my children like she did, in the same way I did. No one else wants to hear every piddling detail of their day, no matter how disgusting. At least 4 times I day I find myself thinking "Oh, I gotta call Gail and tell her that Gabey just....oh....shit. Can't." I still carry my house phone around with me in the evenings out of habit, and when I put it away to charge at bedtime, I'm reminded that it wasn't necessary, she won't be calling. I got into celebrity gossip after my mom died so I would have something to talk to Gail about that was light hearted--so now, every time I hear what the Gosselin's are doing or that Kendra Wilkinson is pregnant, my first instinct is to call...and I can't.

I'm still going through papers and stuff. And having to go through stuff of my mom's that Gail didn't go through back when we moved her and she said she would once she got her place. And seeing notes that Mom left for Gail, trying to help her organize things and make sure Gail would be set up if she died.

I just couldn't stomach having a third urn in the house, so I ordered a huge cloissonne urn with red maple leaves all over it and had the funeral home put Mom, Gail, and Zach together in there with a name plaque on a chain. The urn is in the dining room.

Dark humor gets us through it. God, Kevin is going to be so warped. The other day he looked at the urn in the dining room and commented that for the first time ever Grandma and Auntie would be on time for Thanksgiving dinner. *bwahahahaha* That's my boy. :-)

I got rid of my dining room set because it was too painful. We got that in 2000 when we bought this house and needed a table for our first Thanksgiving here. We thought, okay, we need a table that can seat 8--2 for us, 2 for our future kids, 2 seats for Mom and Gail, and 2 for Pete's parents. That never ever happened. I'm using some of the insurance money to redo the dining room and also buy a new set, so that by Thanksgiving it will be a new room, and we can try to start again.

I got my nose pierced and dyed my hair much more red--both things she would have hated and that I didn't do because of her. It's my childish way of getting revenge. :-)

Just gave her car away tonight to a friend who can make good use of it.  I just want the condo to sell and the paperwork to finish so I can try to remake my life again.  *sigh*

Comments

krasota
Sep. 27th, 2009 03:35 am (UTC)
Kevin is amazing. I bet he gets it from his parents.

Take care of yourself. I may not comment often, but I always try to read.

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gremlin44
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