I was in the middle of writing yesterday afternoon when I got interrupted by a phone call. I was never able to get back to the post and so I left it incomplete. The moment had passed.
Yesterday, Thursday, was rough. Therapy was intense. I cried through most of it. I talked about the trip. How Colorado was awesome. How Vegas was hard. How I wanted mom to have been sitting in the chair in the living room after I had finished reading Jace his story. I talked about how I hadn’t wanted to sit down at dinner the first night and how I knew that running away from it, hiding outside and smoking cigarettes until I ran out wouldn’t have made it easier for anyone. I talked about the hike with Jason. How we’re planning on doing “family nights” through PS4 games. I talked about how it felt like I would choke and die on some of the words while we talked because the pain and loss from mom’s death were so much more intense with Jason.
I talked about a lot of things. I talked about the blacksmith. I guess it was sort of hard not to at least mention him since I’m covered in bruises and hickeys. I mentioned that it was
an amazingly mind-blowingly awesome a good time, and that it had been a more emotional meeting. The blacksmith and I talked a lot about mom the night we were together. It had been a hard day, and I told him as much.
Blacksmith: “What do you miss about her?”
Me: “I miss her hugs. I miss hearing her on the phone.”
Blacksmith: “Is that all she was to you? Phone calls and hugs?”
She was everything to me. She was unwrapping caramels on the couch together while watching Law and Order so we could make brownies. She was hours spent at the kitchen table working on puzzles. She was the editor who proof read every single essay I ever wrote. She was super mom who always had a warm dinner ready for Jon and me even though she was a single mom working full time. She was tireless dedication, making sure we always had a ride home from band practice.
She was a million acts of selflessness. She was a million moments where she put someone else before herself. She was a million actions of love and caring.
All of that is still really close to the surface right now, and so today, like yesterday after therapy, is sort of low and heavy. Washing the five dishes I dirtied for breakfast feels like a lot of effort. The thought of going out to boxing later makes my shoulders feel weighed down. I can lift the weight, but I really don’t want to, and what’s the point of doing it?
I have dinner plans with Corey that I can’t back out of. He’s the friend that helped me move the furniture from my brother’s apartment into my storage unit. The dinner was an IOU for his help, and he’s cashing it in tonight. So boxing, shower, dinner. That’s really the main things of my day, which is pretty much already over since it’s nearly 4 in the afternoon.
I’ve been listening to American Gods, which is a really interesting book so far. I’ve been cross stitching while I listen.
I got a phone call from the apartment complex I’m supposed to be moving into yesterday. Apparently the bank statement I gave them isn’t 100% what they’re looking for. I’m frustrated with them. I’ve had a handful of people apply to be my roommates. They’ve been denied, and the denial isn’t my problem. It’s the fact that it takes three days for the office to get me the information I need, and even then I only get it because I call back and remind them that I can’t do anything until I get their email. It’s the fact that they didn’t call me to tell me the applicants had been denied. It’s the fact that I haven’t even moved in yet and I feel lied to since I handed them this piece of paper a month ago and they said it was fine and that I was approved. It’s not fine, though, so I guess I’m not approved?
I don’t know, and I really don’t care.
I realized on the flight back to Orlando that I think of the Winter Park area as home. I want to stay there. It’s near the gyms I like. It’s near the dojo I want to go back to. It’s near the parks where SCA holds combat practice. It’s familiar. It’s near my friends. I don’t want to move to a complex further away with an office that is already making me not happy.
I was put in touch with an apartment hunter this morning. She’s already found two places that look promising. I’ll most likely end up having to get a cosigner, but Jason has agreed to help. We both mentioned how we would rather he not need to sign anything for me, but we’re seeing what’s out there and cosigning could give me more prospects.
I guess we’ll see how that pans out. But at the moment it’s back to uncertainty and that sucks. At least for the moment I have confidence that one way or another things will work.
I got Scarlet back yesterday. I’ve been cuddling with her off and on and brushing her like mad. I’ve gotten at least another cat out of her.
She’s lost weight since I’ve been gone. I keep thinking about the last vet visit I had with her and how I was told that the first sign of an issue with pets is weight loss. I keep thinking about how the average lifespan of a cat is 15 years and how Scarlet is going on 16. I keep thinking about how she’s my little old lady and that I know I don’t have much time left with her.
And the only thing I can think in the face of all of that is that this is life. This is love. Loving, caring, means that when they leave there’s pain. It’s worth it though. To me, loving mom was, is, worth it. Loving Scarlet is worth it. Loving my friends and having them in my life, is worth it.
I don’t want to hermit away. I don’t want to push away the people I care about so I don’t have to hurt later. I don’t know where else to go with that thought at the moment, but that’s where I’m at. I still want to love because life is worth loving.
Tomorrow I have to move the mattress and couch from Corey’s apartment into my storage unit. I think Big Bad wants to hang out, which is the one social obligation that doesn’t feel draining. I know there will be hugs and cuddles, and most likely sneezing since he’s allergic to cats. Not super allergic, at least that’s what he said. The thought of seeing him makes me smile.
Ended here due to interrupting phone call.