Sunday, November 6, 2011

One Day At A Time

I don't really know how to begin this other than to say how I am truely feeling. It has been two weeks since I lost my Aunt Debbie. Lost her. *psh* That sounds like she was a set of car keys or a cell phone. And like magick she will appear in my purse the next time I look for her. But I know all too well that she isn't going to appear the next time I look for her because she is gone. Forever.

I've heard people say in the last two weeks that they are having a hard time getting a hold of me; that I've gone M.I.A. I've heard people asking why I'm not out all the time anymore and wondering when I'm going to back to "normal". I'll be the first one to admit that I am ignoring certian people. I am refusing to answer my phone and respond to text messages for a reason. You weren't there before, why should I act like you give two shits now?

But what is "normal"? Is normal drinking four or five days a week? Is normal spending money that I don't have on stupid shit so that I can appear cool? Is normal going to bed in the wee hours of the morning to turn around and wake up a few shorts hours later and work a full eight hour day? Well, yeah. That is all normal to me. But it's not healthy. It's not good for me. It's not good for anyone. Last year around this time I took a two month break from hanging out, drinking and being "normal". I'm thinking about doing it agin.

"This all comes from your Aunt Debbie's passing?" Yes, yes it does. And who uses the word 'passing'? She didn't pass a kidney stone, or pass a football to Dez Bryant. She died. She is gone. And she won't ever be back. I lost my aunt, my secret keeper, my fellow Glee watcher, my True Blood partner, my second mom, and the woman who made the best damn tosadas ever. The night before she died we talked about me moving out at the end of the month because I felt that I was spending too much money on fast food, drinking, and clothes. She fully supported my decision and was excited to see me rebuild a relationship with my sister. She was my rock. And she is gone.

No one will EVER understand or even begin to understand what happened that morning. And I hope and pray that they never will. It was something that I wouldn't wish my worst enemy. I have dreams about it almost every night. What if I had heard her? What if I would have tried to wake her up the first time I noticed her on the floor instead of almost thirty minutes later? I mean I was laying only two feet from her. Couldn't I have done something? In my dreams I hear her fall off the couch and I see her strugle and I call for help, the arrive and she is taken off to the hospital where we all visit her later on that day and she comes home and yells at us for eating all her rice pudding and drinking all of the Coca Cola.

But then I wake up and remember that it's my dad's couch that I'm sleeping on. And that my Aunt Debbie is gone. That I didn't hear her fall and that I couldn't save her.
It's been two weeks. Two long, sad, emotional weeks. I'm not a cryer. It takes a lot to make me cry. And I find myself crying while I'm watching commercials, Glee, fucking football. Maybe I need someone to talk to that isn't related or a friend. Maybe I do need help. I dunno. I don't know what I want anymore. There are days where I don't want to wake up and face the day because I hurt so much. There are days where I consider sleeping until I'm thirty.


But until then, I'll work my 9-5, I'll bowl on Tuesdays and I'll DVR Glee. I'll keep watching the Cowboys play and pray that the Eagles and the Steelers lose. I'll take it one day at a time like an alcoholic.

But just know that it's going to take time to get back to the old Heidi. I envy those of you who continue your lives and smile all day. Because I ache inside and my smiles are all fake.

<3 Heidi Jane

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