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Wednesday, April 23

My shit is slowly coming together:

  1. I’ve only forgotten the date/day of the week once today
  2. Tomorrow I have therapy
  3. I’ve turned in all of my assignments on time (all two of them) and gone to class everyday
  4. I’ve really pushed it at the gym for a grand total of three strenuous workouts (strenuous because I’m embarrassingly out of shape and running even a mile feels like a marathon)
  5. It’s cold and grey allowing  my black on black uniform to make an appearance without looking foolish
  6. Yesterday I did laundry so I could finally change my underwear

against my better judgment

Yesterday, against my better judgment (this is how all of my great stories begin), I decided to partake in the festivities, and not like hunting for eggs. All was going well until the paranoia set in, huge waves of panic mixed with sadness. I wrote in my journal and curled into that dark place in my head and felt utterly miserable. It was not fun, and it was entirely unproductive. I did absolutely nothing except wallow and feel overwhelmed by all the work I had to do, but I did brush my teeth before falling into that heavy sleep (and ultimately dental hygiene is more important than just about anything else).

Alarm went off at 7, my first words were “I don’t want to,” got to my cushy desk job at 8am (wearing the same thing as yesterday) and have been working on homework mostly ever since. I don’t understand why it’s so hard to be productive or do things that I know will be good for me. I think maybe because excuses start to feel pretty legitimate when it’s 8pm and I’m already sleepy and “it’s a holiday.”

Today however is a great day to catch up on work. I banged out a poem with an hour to spare before class, and this afternoon will have three hours to write a response paper which I have done 1/3 of the reading for. I’ll likely be exhausted and do no more work for the rest of the evening, thus continuing this cycle (just kidding, kind of, hopefully).

I’m hoping that getting on a healthy schedule will be easier to maintain than it has been to start.

This title was deceptively cheery for what I planned on writing. But I thought “hey there! (after 50 or so days of drinking away my sorrows)” wasn’t appealing.

I have a lot to say about the last few months and I won’t get to nearly all of it today or even probably this month, but I might as well start by saying it’s been a pretty difficult series of weeks. I lost track of the date and somehow thought it was mid-february. It did occur to me that it was rather warm for the middle of winter but I chalked it up to global warming (I was informed this weekend we’re likely facing a mass extinction, but it’s fine…if the dinosaurs survived, we will too).

It was difficult to be public with what I was going through. Grief twists your mind, freezes you into yourself. I’m only just recently starting to feel like I’m actually here, existing with everyone else instead of drifting along like a cut-open sea shell.

It would be the lie of the century to say I coped with the initial stages of my grief in a healthy way. I was already spinning into a tornado before Blaine’s death and her passing was something like the last domino. But I don’t want to play anymore.

I had a rather frightening experience about a week ago with alcohol and I’ll spare the details here but suffice to say it’s not a place I want to get to again. They say once you hit rock bottom you start to climb out. I’m not sure what rock bottom looks like but I really don’t want to get any closer. We had our courtship, an unpleasant and alcohol fueled flirtation, and now I’ve had enough.

I started carrots and (candy) sticks to talk about wellness and while there’s been a lot about eating disorders I imagine the next few months will be about grief and coping and trying to put the pieces back together after something very special breaks.

I need to start holding myself accountable (and holding myself together) because all of this is too precious to waste (which basically means I’m going to try to post nearly daily again instead of once every two months). I have found so much support by being really public with things that have been hard for me and so while it’s scary and embarrassing to admit I haven’t really taken care of myself recently, I think it’s important. Also if you have tips for coping with death (aside from weed, alcohol, pain killers, and running) hit me up.   

On a lighter note (get it?), happy four twenty. If you also hate weed (anxiety is something I supply enough of on my own) then this means absolutely nothing to you too. However, if this is your favorite day of the year then go crazy, yolo, etc., and I’ll eat a few chocolate covered pretzels for you.

For Blainey

On this night Blaine and I danced for about three straight hours. Then we ran down to the river, took off all our clothes, swam across it, and ran back on the road to the honks of a few cars...then we ate like 1000 mozzarella sticks. It's one of many nights I'll remember fondly with her.

On this night Blaine and I danced for about three straight hours. Then we ran down to the river, took off all our clothes, swam across it, and ran back on the road to the honks of a few cars…then we ate like 1000 mozzarella sticks. It’s one of many nights I’ll remember fondly with her.

My best friend, Blaine, passed away over the weekend. Those who knew her can attest to her shining personality, friendliness, candor, beauty, passion, and overall brightness. I do not know what life will be like without her and I already miss her immensely. I only had the pleasure of knowing her for a little less than a year but she was truly special. We had an unlikely friendship but the greatest thing we had in common was our love for each other. During one of the dark days of feeling depressed she walked me to class and said, “Please let me help you, I’ll do anything you need me to do. I just want you to feel better.” She wanted so desperately for me to be happy and I could feel how much she cared. I am so grateful to have known her.

These last few days have been some of the hardest. But Blaine would want there to be a silver lining, and so it’s this. Her death has brought me to her lovely camp friends whom I got to spend a few days with at her funeral. They are wonderful people and I look forward to getting to know them more. With them I feel I get to know a piece of Blaine’s past and it keeps her with me even though she’s not here. I know there will be many more things she will give me as time goes on, but for now I have written this poem in her memory. Blaine was SO not into poetry but she came to my writer’s group that first day anyway just so that I wouldn’t be reading my poems to no one. Now that’s a friend.

But Blaine

strange air I taste
despair in the space
of unanswered sorrow

it all still goes
while we watch and miss
they wave and wear hats
bring books and buy coffee.
I look for her in hair ties
and bird songs but find nothing
the same or anything so different as her
——-pure breath, bright life

if my heart had hands
it’d hold pieces of her before
they escape like cupping water

when the thirst cries faith salty faith

it smells of spring and sun
and baby birds unborn.
the once snow drifts cry their last
tears floods of them rolling down
the gravel collecting dead plants carrying plans to the grate for all
the misplaced things but how
but how can there be
growth while she’s gone

Rest peacefully Blaine. We all have so much love for you.