I haven’t posted since Aug 16th. In the greater span of my life, that seems like a moment, I know. But its a lifetime as well. In those few days I have cried, screamed, laughed, agonized, painted, and gone through the emotional roller coaster afforded only, thankfully, a few times in our lives.
All last week my sister and MaryAnn, a great friend I’ve known since she was *thinks* around 10 or so and grew up near us, wanted to go out Friday night. I’ve been dieting and staying away from alcohol so I really didnt want to go. However, I’d failed to show up at their last outing and felt like a heel for wanting to cop out again, so I went. I got verra drunk. You know that drunk you get when you’re about 10 seconds from changing your IQ forever because you’ll never recoop the brain cells? There I was. I was barefoot (kicked off my heels) and playing pool, dancing with strangers, and I’m pretty sure I ate loaded nachos. Since Im a workaholic mother of three, I *never* go out. So since I finally did, it was like reverting to seventeen. We laughed like crazy about ‘this one time, at band camp…’, pothead soccer players, sneaking around, and all that stuff you do as teenagers but dont really remember until you get together with your lame friends and rehash all the drama.
Most of Friday I’d been painting my bedroom, so when we went out I hadn’t quite gotten it all off and one of the things she razzed me about was the paint, everywhere. In my hair. We talked about a guy she liked and I knew and called him, he said he wasnt going out. We called a couple of hours later to tell him how drunk we were and found out he’d gone out after all. MaryAnn wanted to find him so she hugged everybody goodbye and headed over to the bar where he usually went. An hour and a half later… a moment in a life… a drunk driver hit her from behind and she was dead. She’d been going home with the guy she wanted to be with, so I know she was happy. Harley txt’d me to tell me and when I called I thought he was joking, that they were teasing me because of how drunk I’d been. But they werent. And my life just…stopped.
I know food isnt supposed to be a comfort, and I know Im trying to lose weight, but I’m sorry, I wasnt in the mood for protein shakes and kashi. Saturday was also my son’s 2nd birthday. I ate cake and home made ice cream. I ate chicken fettucini. On Sunday I dont remember eating at all, but I must have. Her viewing was that night. My sister and I planned to eat before or after, but we didnt do either. I can’t remember what I ate. On Monday morning we stopped at Bojangles on the way to the funeral and I ate a sausage and egg biscuit with sweet tea (South Carolina in the summer - yes, sweet tea for breakfast). I dont remember eating again until dinner and I had a burger and pringles. Yes, I know, it was all terrible food. I skipped my Monday workout with my trainer. I need to call her and reschedule.
Right now Im just allowing myself to be swallowed in this awful self hating depression. Ive been thinking that while humans hold ourselves up to be superior, the truth is our only difference from other species is our ability to rationalize and justify.
I had oatmeal for breakfast, Im going to continue with the weight loss. My scale said I gained 2 pounds over the weekend, and Im sortof shocked that was all. (oh, yeah, I bought a scale) I’ll keep going. But Im so sad and the depression is so dark and welcome that Im not sure what affect it will have on me. Im going to watch my rationalizations carefully.
I did finish painting my bedroom. It looks like chocolate milk.
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