Saturday, May 31, 2014


The conversation was very simple. 

Me: I've decided I'm emotionally unavailable.

Him: Oh yea?

Me: Yea. 


Me: I decided this when I was reading about it because I thought you were emotionally unavailable. 

Him: Oh yea?

Me: Yea.

Him: Oh


Him: But you decided you were emotionally unavailable? 

Me: Yea.


Me: Well I still think you are too.

Him: Oh yea?

Me: Yea.

Him: Oh.


Him: So we're both emotionally unavailable? 

Me: Yea.

Him: Oh.


Him: I guess there are worse things to be.

Me: hearty laugh

Me: Well yea, I guess there are worse things to be.


Him: Something else about the dog that has vomited several times today.

And the conversation continued on that subject for a few minutes before he got up and went inside.

Sunday, May 11, 2014

and so he stays

They say that I still haven't let go. 

I'm not sure that I can. That ache is too much to bear. 

He kept me company in my solitude, quiet, unintrusive - simply there, a part of it, a part of me. That hasn't changed with his death. 

No one else has tried to take that position, no one else has wanted to stand that close. 

And so he stays. Just as he promised. 

Until I am ok. 

Wednesday, May 7, 2014


People are assholes. 

I'm not talking about other people. We're all assholes.

The difference between me and Daddy is that he thinks everyone has good in them but are assholes at the core while I think everyone is an asshole with a good heart at the core.

Sunday, May 4, 2014


An astrologist says that now is the time of acceptance, that we are all supposed to be working to accept the past. 

She also says you must have acceptance before forgiveness. 

I acknowledged, but perhaps that is not the same as accepted.

Thursday, May 1, 2014

forgive me if I don't say hello

There's a difference between blogging and writing. 

I have a hard time blogging. It is social, interactive. 

I find it to be very awkward. 

I love the anonymity that comes from writing - it's nothing but you and your thoughts scrawled across the page. I also love the little thrill that comes with the realization that someone has read those thoughts and responded to them. 

Proper blogger etiquette requires interaction and reciprocal blog visits and commenting. That kind of freaks me out and makes me clam up. 

I can spew my heart across the page and even know that it is being read, but the minute I talk to you I become more exposed, you become real. It removes the anonymity. 

I become vulnerable. I begin to squirrel away the thoughts. What was once hastily scribbled lines across a napkin or restaurant ticket shoved in pockets has become hurriedly typed snippets shoved  in digital notepads. 

No one ever sees it. Because I don't want to talk about it. 

I'll never be able to talk about it, not in a way that anyone would understand. But, I might be able to write it. 

I'm a bit timid. Please forgive me if I don't say hello.