1681Thursday

Oct. 2, 2003

 

We chickened out (?) of picking up Nickie's ashes today. (or maybe
just got too busy? not sure. Mutual ambivalence about it.) Tom went
to air coolers. I went to Lynns and then we went to Elaine's. She was
mostly back to normal. A side effect of the drugs she od'ed on is
that her hands are shaky. She has a regular doctor and a psychiatrist
she's working with to get her medical condition and her emotions
stabilized.

It was sometimes hard to listen to her talk about 'almost making it'
as in almost dying, as if it was a goal she'd missed.

I was good though, tried to find a balance between acknowledging her
feelings and not getting maudlin. I almost lost it when she talked
about how Lynn almost got her sapphire and diamond "princess di"
ring. I managed to squeak out something cheerful like "Oh, but it
looks better on you" or "we like it better on you" or something. God,
like a ring would be any consolation for losing one of your oldest,
bestest friends in the world. Lynn would never be able to look at
that ring without feeling miserable. Maybe if Elaine goes from
natural causes or whatever, it will be a comfort to her to have the
ring. But not now.

She talked about her godson & neices and nephews, Jordan and Patrick.
I hope she is re-assessing her relationships and her importance to
the people in her life. I hope she is rediscovering reasons to be
alive.

I've never been that close to killing myself. I have wanted to be
dead and I've hated my life...but I can always find a way to be
curious about tomorrow, or something to look forward to...and if
nothing else, feel guilty and shitty about all the people I'd hurt if
I did it. Good Ol' Catholic guilt...who would think it could save a
life?

Read a letter from Mom to L&B, [Uncle B.] showed it to me. Mom mentioned
that I was 'a mess 'when she talked to me. I feel bad and guilty for
that. I am not supposed to be a mess. I am the one with all my shit
together. I am organized and calm. I am the rock. *sigh* I hate for
people to think I'm weak. I hate to *be* weak. I wish I was half as
calm and collected and competent as I manage to fake 75% of the time.
But when the real shit hits the real fan, I'm running away and
crying. Yup, I suck.

Mom mailed me a rock. She got it at '2 medicine river'...whatever or
wherever that is. It is grey and looks like a crescent moon. It is
pretty cool.

I will have to write her tomorrow, I guess.