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like a stone settling in a lake

For an academic study, I was offered twelve weeks of therapy paid for by the researchers. I gotta say, twelve weeks isn’t nearly enough to dig into everything that’s wrong with me, but it was an insightful time digging into my younger years and how they’ve impacted my life today; I struggle to form genuine connections to people and have a deep-rooted fear of intimacy because of the abandonment I experienced while a teenager, and I never had time to really process through all of that because I was stuck in survival mode for so much of that time. There was so much validation of what I’d been through and reassurance that I was doing what I had to get by and that it wasn’t bad, because it was all I was capable of.

And so we worked on my grief. She shared a video with me fairly early on; it’s only a few minutes long and more in relation to children, but it really gave an image to how the grief I’ve been carrying with me all these years has felt:

If only I could afford to keep doing therapy :’)

A good while ago I got a copy of Bearing the Unbearable by Joanne Cacciatore. I forgot I even had it, honestly, but as I was digging through my ebook folders I stumbled upon it and realized that it would probably be as good a time as ever to start tackling it. I’m not that far in (around the 35 page mark? Hard to tell with this ebook reader I’m using), but so much space in here is given to talk about how we are not given enough time to grieve.

“…when we are pushed by our culture, this cult of pleasure, to heal on a fixed timescale or to somehow “choose happiness” over grief, when we are socially constrained and unable to give expression to our emotions, we feel unsafe, misunderstood, and isolated. And when this happens we may, to the detriment of humanity, retract from the world as we begin to, quite rightly, feel frightened and mistrusting of the way our honest grief will be met.”

I’ve had to face another type of grief in losing my father two months ago. In a way, it still doesn’t feel real; I never got to see his body, which is still languishing in a mortuary nearly two-hundred miles away, waiting for me alone to gather the funds to finally afford to cremate him as he wished. (It’s funny how I remember that; he told it to me so, so long ago, how he wanted that so he could fit where mom is buried back in St. Louis.) It isn’t the same as the grief I still carry from losing my mother; that one holds Sadness, with Regret and Longing mixed in. The grief I hold for my father has Regret, mixed with equal parts Sadness and Anger. A lot of people feel anger when going through this, you know, but I think I’m mostly angry because he didn’t take care of himself. He could’ve lived longer. He could’ve seen the birth of his two other grandchildren.

I had to wrap the birthday presents he got for my niece. He brought them on his last visit, just a few days before he died. Do you know how that feels? I look at my niece sometimes and think, you will forget him. You will not remember how happy you were when he visited. But I will remember.

I saved his last voicemail to me. “Hey. Call me back. Love you, bye.” It’s seven seconds long. I backed it up on five separate cloud storage spaces. I wish I had called him more often. He often told me it was lonely down there. He would have turned 58 in October.

It has been 18 years and 9 months since I lost my mother. It has been 2 months since I have lost my father. I now carry two balls of grief inside of me.



my dad used to sing this to me when i was a baby.

he passed away this week, unexpectedly.

i love you dad. i’ll miss you and your fozzie jokes. i hope if there is an afterlife, you and mom can meet again (and she can maybe kick your ass a little for some of the bullshit you put us through, but that’s beside the point).

Tagged ,

one of those nights

you’ll be all right in time.


idle hands, idle mind

I had a very stressful time the other day because pug got out and got picked up by animal control (I will not point fingers at where the fault lies for this, but it isn’t mine). I was not doing okay that night, suffice to say. It’s fortunate nothing bad happened to him, at least.

Speaking of the old fella, I got a nice comfy dog bed for him but the little jerk just refuses to lay on it. Why is he so stubborn someone please explain.

Obtained a couple of sketchbooks, some colored pencils, and more off-brand alcohol markers than I feasibly know what to do with (I don’t think the sketchbook paper will hold up to those, oops). I miss when I had a passion for drawing; I used to do it so much when I was younger. There was a point where I was slapping out things no less than weekly, and now every time I try to do anything it just makes me sad and frustrated. The inspiration feels like it left me at some point, and I’m not really quite sure how to get it back. Placing the blame solely on my brain doing a big fucky-wucky for the last decade is a nice cope to excuse it, but that’s probably only half of the reason why I don’t draw much anymore. Regardless, I need to sit down and tear open the plastic wrap on one of these sketchbooks and just go to town on the first page. What’s the worst that’ll happen, I ruin some art? I ruin everything that comes into my vicinity, what’s some sheets of paper in the grand scheme of things?

I think getting into drawing again will also help me just… stop being so in my head. Feels kind of like I’ve no real emotional outlet these days, and something more productive than some video games to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay would be nice (written like I don’t have a Scrivener doc up with about 30 folders of unfinished things I’ve not found the words to finish off). My Bad Thoughts™ have been particularly awful lately, and I’ve had more days than not lately where I’ve started spiraling something terrible. I’m hoping this helps, even just a little.

Y’all. I got a massive wall tapestry with the most blown-up, ridiculously low-quality image from a Yamamoto Takato work and it’s so bad when you’re anything less than 4 feet from it, but by George I’m going to clear a space on the wall above my bed to hang that baby up. The corner where my bed is tucked in has the walls covered in framed prints and posters at this point; I spent about half an hour tonight moving the Mario posters and redoing my strip light setup to clear some space, but now I’ve gotta figure out where to slap the Hoji frogs. May or may not need to find a stepstool to access some of the higher blank areas on my walls for them. I am overall happy with how much I’ve overhauled my room space in the last year, though; it feels a bit more ‘me’ than it used to and that’s a big step for me (trauma from my teen years and never having a guaranteed place to stay haunts me, I guess).

Anyway. Why did no one inform me a trailer for the Mononoke movie dropped? It’ll take some time to adjust to having a new seiyuu for Kusuriuri and him having a fresh design, but the original anime is still there for me to watch whenever I’m feeling up to it. (I did a rewatch when I was delirious with COVID back in March but I’m itching for another where I don’t have COVID-brain fuzzing up everything.) I actually really dig the new look for Kusuriuri because it’s so colorful (even a little unhinged) compared to the previous muted look (which I still love), but it does kind of lessen the slightly uncanny feeling the character originally had by being so outright bizarre in comparison to the other characters I can see in the trailer.

Lately, I’ve had Wolf Parade’s I’ll Believe in Anything on my mind a lot. It’s so old at this point and has been with me through almost a majority of my life at this point (2008 was almost 20 years ago, and I’m not coping well with this knowledge). I wasn’t in a good place (physically, mentally, emotionally, what have you-ly) the first time I heard it way back then, and I’m really not in much better of one these days, but I’m still here and that has to mean something in the grand scheme of things. ‘Nobody knows you and nobody gives a damn’ used to hurt me a lot, but over the years I’ve come to view it as something liberating.


you’re waiting for something.

I’ve listened to Keaton Henson’s Romantic Works through its entirety about 8 times today. Maybe not doing that good, but could be worse, I suppose, or that’s what I tell myself each time I spend a long moment on the back porch to soak up the outdoors for a bit. I dunno, there’s something therapeutic about just sitting out there and hearing the chickens and ducks being noisy lil bastards, or the sound of the insects buzzing during the day (it’s also very nice in the quiet of the later part of the night, when the neighborhood is asleep and I go out with one of the dogs one last time—sometimes he lays next to me and I just pet him on the head; it’s nice).

Another birthday has come and gone, which I’m about as indifferent to as any person can be. I think part of the reason I’ve always gotten anxious around the date is because most of my life I’ve felt the day was a burden to those around me—growing up poor meant a struggle on my mom’s part to make it a meaningful day to me, so I always tempered my expectations from a young age because I understood the financial strain any gifting would cause. Nowadays I consider it a good day if I get a single ‘happy birthday’ because that’s just how things are around me. At the very least I try to treat myself to one cheap thing I want on the day, if nothing else (a little reminder that I do in fact deserve a treat once in a while, and what better way than to celebrate making it this far?).

My sister stomped up to me earlier and shoved her phone in my face with an angry “I hate our family.” One of our cousins posted a bunch of pics on socmed of an absolutely massive family gathering (230 people, apparently ‘closest family and friends’!) celebrating our grandparents’ anniversary. Which is. Well, sister, I dunno what to tell you, but there’s a reason mom never really spoke with her family, you know? From a young age I’ve been keenly aware how much that side of the family has a distaste for us, and the last time I saw my grandmother really cemented how much especially I don’t register in her mind (you see, my sister looks like our mother, but I look like my father while also being Fat, and we just Can’t Have That). I don’t really think about that side of the family much, which honestly leaves me with no side of the family to think of, but it’s better than giving those assholes free rent in my mind (and yet another reason that I a. don’t check socials that much and b. have not friended most of the fam; y’all dead to me just like I’m probably dead to you).

Anyway. I need someone to stop me from ordering more notebooks. I am going to die buried under a pile of them at this rate. Stationery my beloved… stop calling to me.

will it be cookies or cake tomorrow?

y’know, I’ve gotten ahold of two mini ‘personal air conditioners’ which are essentially tiny swamp coolers and I gotta say, they suck (but then again I’ve never met a swamp cooler that actually worked, so I may be biased). at least the second one I got lets me add ice into the water tank 😞 one day I’ll find one that works for me, but hopefully one of these (both?) will work to keep me cool when the heat really hits next month.

have you ever drowned in notebooks? I think that may be my fate. a couple of my buddies have joked about the amount I have after the catastrophic (and hilarious) notebook tower we used for something, but dear god. I keep getting more, and someone needs to slap my hand and stop me. (my most recent get was some Spy x Family branded Kokuyo Campus ones, not that I’ve ever read/seen the series or anything because I haven’t watched anything from post-2013, it feels like.)

I’ve been watching niece during the days since it’s summer vacation for The Youth™, but lately at night I’ll open my bedroom door and she’s just. there. in the hallway. it’s like 10:30 in the evening child, why are you up? “I’m not tired.” so then she follows me into the kitchen and just sits herself on one of the counters while I’m out there doing dishes or filling my water bottle, chatting all the while about what she wants to do the next day. tonight I let her take my weighted pug plushie into her room as a bribe to get her to lay down and try to sleep instead of sitting there grilling me about what we’ll bake tomorrow 😭kids absolutely slay me and I’ll have to go through this again (with twins!) after my sister gives birth.

(if, 10 years ago, you’d asked me if I’d be taking care of kids—and not ones of my own—I’d have probably laughed at you because lolkids, but honestly this is one of the few things I can say I’m comfortable doing in life.)


it’s mid-june and life is going. which is to say, a lot has happened so far this year, even though it doesn’t really feel like it.

in march (arguably the worst month of the year for me) i ended up throwing out my back helping to move in a chicken coop, then i caught covid while suffering that which left me out of commission for a solid two weeks. it. was. awful. i just got over a double ear infection this last week too, which sucked, and i would like to give special thanks to my bffs acetaminophen and ibuprofen.

guess who’s got twin niblings incoming towards the end of the year :’) i’m terrified, mostly because i’ll be the one taking care of them (alone!) through the majority of the day.

hopefully i remember to UPDATE THIS THING once in a while. to be honest, i’m more a fan of writing in an actual journal than doing the whole blog thing.