Okay, I wasn’t sure I should do it or not ethically, but I deleted all the crazy-assed footnote posts. I’ve been debating whether I should leave them as a testament to the insane things one thinks of, or remove them because they were crazy — and also wholly inaccurate. So, I decided to take them down.
I’m considering drafting an email apologizing to the state of Vermont for being crazy. The paranoia is real, but it goes back to my come-to-Jesus meeting with myself. I have to let some of this go. That was too much. I have to stop the research because it’s obsessive cycling, and I really don’t know what I think I’m going to find.
I mean, I don’t know. So we’re going to take it one research-free day at a time. LawyerBoy has been thinking about buying a travel trailer for camping, so I’m going to research the hell out of travel trailers and solar arrays for said trailers. That’s my research project this week.
LawyerBoy and I went to lunch today — the first time we’ve seen each other in almost two years. It felt way too comfortable. I don’t need to go down that path, because rejection at this point in my life might actually kill me.
Then my mom called. Drunk. It just got me emotional, and I ended up sobbing. She’s so oblivious to how what she does and says affects people. That’s where I get it from when I say shit, but at least I attempt to be self-aware. She just doesn’t care. Though, not being as bad as her isn’t saying much.
Years ago, she and Brian 2 got into an argument — they were screaming at each other — and my mom brought it up tonight. She was upset that my kids didn’t defend her. I said, “They were 14 and 8. Why would a grown-assed woman expect an eight-year-old to defend her in an argument with another adult?” I would have when I was eight, and that might just explain why I’m so fucked up.
My mom always brings up the past. There’s a lot of trauma there for me — a lot of regret and sadness — and I’ve worked hard to put so much of it behind me. But my mom’s reminders open wounds I thought had scarred over.
Some things I just need to forget and let stay forgotten — the bad and the good — because it’s all intertwined. The good memories can pull the bad ones back up. You have to forget the whole thing for it to go away, no matter how painful it is to lose those wonderful memories. Sometimes it hurts too much to remember happiness you know you’ll never feel again.
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