trying to find the magic in survival

[TW: sexual misconduct/abuse]

as some long time readers may remember from the start of this blog, i was molested by a family friend when i was 8 years old. i still can't do splits. i repressed it until i was about 15 or 16 and i'm not entirely convinced that the family member i told believed me. if memory serves, i found out that the family friend in question had long disappeared or was dead or something...basically he wouldn't be a factor and life could go on.

and it did, to a certain extent. my cousin's husband thought it'd be a brilliant idea to show me a porn movie at the end of one of our movie nights. i was 16. somehow we went from watching "single white female" to porn to my cousin's husband exposing himself to me locking myself in the bathroom until my younger cousins (his sons) were all ready to go to bed and then locking myself in the bedroom. i still have difficulty watching certain pornography because it brings me back to that helpless teenage me who knew enough to know that something wasn't right but didn't have the agency or the voice to speak up.

i never told anyone in my family about my cousin's husband. i knew enough to know that my father and/or one of my brothers wound end up in jail for avenging my honor and i knew that my cousin's husband worked in law enforcement and had connections that i couldn't begin to fathom and i didn't want to break my cousin's heart b/c she was my favorite cousin by a landslide and i also knew that i had to stop visiting them which broke my heart b/c she really was my favorite cousin and i looked forward to those summers and random weekends where we got to hang out.

i am saying all of this to say that the #theemptychair hashtag on twitter, along with the cover of new york magazine depicting some of the women victimized by bill cosby, was a punch to the gut and this all came back. i am lucky in that i had partners who helped me work through my guilt and angst when i first became sexually active. i am lucky that i have had the opportunity to recognize and deal with those feelings of guilt and angst and disbelief and, gods be praised, came out stronger for it.

the decision to write about this tonight was not an easy one. i wrestled with it during my ride home because, for reasons that should be obvious, i don't necessarily like revisiting these things. i would journal about it, i reasoned. if it was on my mind that much then i could just scribble a few lines in my journal and be done with it.

all i kept hearing was "this is all part of the work." it finally occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, telling my story and recognizing the privilege inherent in being able to tell my story, would be my way of honoring those people who are sitting in that empty chair. this would be part of the work of meeting people where they are and telling them that they are still more than enough, regardless of the pain that's been inflicted on them. this would be part of the work of reminding myself that yes, i am still more than enough regardless of the pain. a reminder this work is not in vain. an opportunity for me to see that it is still possible to be a magical black girl in a world that, i swear, seems hellbent on denying my humanity. a chance for any and everyone else who has a similar story that maybe they cannot or will not tell to see that they are not alone. that they are not the only ones represented by that empty chair. you are seen and you are heard and you are loved and you are more than enough.

let me say that again.

you are seen and you are heard and you are loved and you are more than enough.

amen.

on: attempting to keep up the (good) work

PARTY TIP: True inner strength is not seeing any realistic way you're going to make it, but still knowing somehow... you will.

— ANDREW W.K. (@AndrewWK) July 13, 2015

if you follow me on twitter, then you already know that i retweet andrew w.k. at least once a week. this one particularly resonated with me because i've been mulling over the phrase "this is all part of the work" since yesterday. the phrase came to me while i was reading elizabeth alexander's "the light of the world" and having my heart broken into tiny pieces and yet feeling like she'd been spying on my life. i tweeted a few things from the book while i was reading, and then i had to jot down "this is all part of the work" and let it sit for a bit.

"if i cannot take a walk with you and talk my way to the other side of the dilemma, i am not enacting friendship." © @ProfessorEA

— eulalia (@queeneulalia) July 12, 2015

that's part of the work, i think - being able to walk with someone and talk our way through whatever's on our minds, or at least enjoying the silence while we're on our journey.

meeting people where they are and occasionally leaving them there, as i've been trying to be more conscious of this year, is part of the work.

meeting myself wherever i am and accepting myself flaws and all? part of the work.

i've said more than once that this empath/caregiver role is not an easy one for me, and yet i have to admit that the more i accept this path, the better i feel. i was at a friend's birthday gathering last weekend and she asked us all to check-in with how we were feeling physically, spiritually, emotionally, and intellectually. i said that spiritually, i was feeling as strong as i'd felt in a long while, and that i was sure it had something to do with no longer denying this caregiver position i'm attempting to play out. emotionally, though? i was wiped out. so many of us (self included) are going through so many things in our own lives, not to mention being impacted by events far and wide and closer to home and everywhere in between, and there were definitely moments where i had just had to retreat for a bit so i could try to get my shit together before being able to reach out to others.

this is all part of the work.

i wish you happy (hockey) feelings

it's no secret that i distinctly remember where i was when the blackhawks won the stanley cup in 2010, b/c that was the night troy & i decided to call it quits. we all know my memory can be shitty, but even i can recall that with little to no effort.

and then there was 2013. i definitely remember that one, despite my levels of unsobriety, b/c having the cup back in chicago that year meant so much to me during this whole divorce/eviction/couch-surfing/un(der)employment/what the fuck is happening to my life phase that i've been in.

and now 2015. omg you guys. i had to work during game 6 and as soon as i was able, i was on the train to meet my friends at the bar while listening to the radio feed on my blackhawks app and keeping an eye on twitter and it is entirely possible that i started crying on the train when i realized the cup was once again coming back to chicago. a friend and i had both said in october that we wanted the cup back in our city. our reasons were varied, but the sentiment was the same.

cta wasn't playing nicely and i missed all of game 6. i finally got to the bar to celebrate with my friends only to realize that the bar was closing up and i couldn't have a celebratory beer until i got home, which i totally did, obviously, because beer is delicious and if i couldn't have one at the bar (they seriously wouldn't take my money. i tried!) that night, then bedtime beer it was going to be.

i drank and cried and tweeted and talked to my friend and we cried a little on the phone because we can be sappy like that and everything was wonderful.

not just because of hockey, though.

i gave my 2 weeks notice at the library the night the blackhawks won the cup. why did i do that?

because i got a new job.

a full-time job, even.

a full-time job in my field.

a full-time job in my field that is going to pay me more than i've previously made in my career to date.

i start july 1.

a few of you knew about this already and i appreciate y'all keeping the news tucked under your proverbial hats. now that all of the pre-employment stuff is done and i am in receipt of an email that basically says "hey, all that paperwork and testing is handled and you can officially start july 1," i can shout this from the rooftops.

holy fucking shit i start my new gig next week. my last day at the library is saturday. i am freaking the entire fuck out.

so...suffice it to say that i was crying that monday night for various reasons. i was happy because the cup was back in chicago and i was happy b/c i'd gotten a job that is totally going to challenge me and kick my ass and i might be getting teary just typing this.

i still haven't seen game 6 in its entirety, but damned if i didn't cry every time i saw a condensed replay. hell, i cried while watching the video they showed at the blackhawks' victory rally.

so many happy feelings, you guys. i am totally crying right now, btw. quasi-landlord almost made me cry the other day. "i am so proud of you. you never gave up. you kept putting yourself out there because you knew that something better was within your reach and you got it."

it is 2015 and the cup is once again back in chicago and i am still in chicago and i have a new job. this is most exhilarating.

thank you all for your unwavering support. it means so much more than i'm able to articulate right now. :-)

on: anita baker's "compositions" album

one of the problems* with being old is realizing that some of your favorite albums are officially old and you have that moment of disbelief b/c you'd swear up down and sideways that said album just came out yesterday. you also start thinking that you're not possibly old enough to have some of your favorite albums be old enough to warrant mentioning their anniversaries, but then you do the math and realize that yes, it really has been that long.

(*-obviously this is not an actual problem in real life, but you know what i mean.)

that was me today when i read that anita baker's "compositions" album is 25 years old. my memories of that album are so vivid that there's no way 25 years have passed.

1990. james was still living in daddy's basement. james bought "compositions" on cd and i promptly borrowed it. a lot. that cd wound up in my room at least once a week. i'm sure i made a copy of it on cassette, but i distinctly remember a few instances when james would come upstairs looking for his cd and i would just hand it over without a word.

1990. i was 13. what in god's name did i know about love and relationships and heartbreak? very little, and yet you couldn't tell me that anita baker wasn't singing about my life. even then, i identified with the song "fairy tales," and that identification only grew stronger as i got older.

if you would have told 13 y.o. me that in 25 years, i would still be listening to that album, i probably would've laughed at you. if you would've told past me that in 25 years, both daddy and james would be dead and all i'd have left were memories of me in my room listening to "compositions" over and over, i probably would have been horrified…but here we are.

earlier tonight, i listened to the album in its entirety for the first time in ages. it's still one of my favorites, albeit a sentimental one, and i almost felt like i was back in my room, stretched out on my bed, looking at all of the posters on my walls, and singing along with anita like my 13 year old life depended on it. i know james isn't posting up in my doorway looking for his cd, but i'd be a lying liar who lies if i said i didn't wish that would happen.

recipe review: chicken with honey-beer sauce

i found this one in my files while digging through and/or organizing other recipes, and decided to keep it out since i'm always looking for new and interesting ways to cook chicken. quasi-landlord bought a shallot before she went on vacation and i had beer in the fridge, so i had everything i needed to make this for dinner tonight. well, except for the parsley, but i rarely use parsley anyway.

this is another recipe that didn't call for garlic, so i chopped up 2-3 small cloves of garlic and threw them in with the shallots. i used revolution brewing's fist city beer because i had a can of it in the fridge.

verdict: meh. it wasn't terrible, but i wouldn't go out of my way to make this again anytime soon. i kinda wish i'd made some mashed potatoes to go with the chicken and with the roasted carrots i made earlier. oh well. maybe next time i try this, i'll make mashed potatoes and it will be better b/c mashed potatoes make everything better.

recipe review: sweet potato, sausage, and green pepper hash

part of my adulting while quasi-landlord is away is making sure i have food both to take with me to work and also to eat when i get home from work. so far i've been pretty good about meal prepping on my days off so i don't have to think too much about what's for lunch/dinner, or about what i'm gonna eat when i get home late from an evening of shenanigans.

that said, i figured i should also try out a new (to me) recipe or two while i'm home alone. this one seemed easy enough, plus the main ingredients are all things i enjoy.

i didn't make the fried eggs, though, b/c i'm not a fan of fried eggs. obviously you could make them if you wanted.

here's what else i did differently: i used 1 large sweet potato because that's what i had here. i also used about 8-10 ounces of turkey italian sausage because that was in the freezer. i used a green bell pepper instead of an anaheim pepper because we all know my tolerance for spicy food isn't that great. i bought a 10 ounce bag of spinach, and i added a 1/2 teaspoon of garlic powder when i put in the cumin because garlic makes everything better.

result? nom. would make and eat again. you might want your sweet potatoes to cook a little longer, depending on how soft or firm you like them. if you're using a different type of sausage, you may want/need to add seasoning as you see fit.

beware the gratitude police

i tweeted earlier this morning about not wanting to go back to work today. it's true - i've been off since last wednesday and there's been enough insanity going on at work that i really don't want this break to end. i also mentioned that yes, i know, i should be thankful to even have a job, etc. that doesn't mean i have to like everything about it.

that was a preemptive strike against what i'll call the "gratitude police." you know them. they're the ones who always have something to say whenever you're even remotely negative about something. "ugh, i have to go to work." "you should be glad you have a job!" "dammit, i need to clean the house/car/garage/whatever." "don't you know how lucky you are to even have a house/car/garage/whatever?"

for me, the annoying thing about that is yes, i actually do know how lucky i am. anyone who's been paying attention to my life during the past 4-5 years knows that i will readily cop to being thankful/grateful for where things are vs. where they could have been. that doesn't mean i can't complain or whine about it. pretty sure there's no hard and fast rule about just shutting up and being grateful, and if there is, then i'm ok with breaking that rule.

still here

i honestly don't know how i'm still here some days, but i'm here. this week was a clusterfuck on myriad levels, ending with the news that a colleague's husband died suddenly this week.

one bright spot, if it can be called that, was this snippet from my colleague's family about the memorial:

In lieu of flowers, the family has made the following request: "Please donate to something very meaningful to your own beliefs - or in the ways of (redacted), befriend someone who needs a friend, or take someone to lunch who looks like they could use it."

i'm not crying, you're crying.

have a good weekend.

me, miss janet, and the babygirl syndrome

i was having a bit of a lazy sunday morning earlier. y'know, the whole "take a shower and go back to bed and watch tv" kind of lazy? while watching tv, the video for michael & janet jackson's "scream" came on. i hadn't seen it in a while.




something struck me while i was watching it this morning, though. for the first time in a long time, it was obvious to me that janet & i have something in common - we both have what i'm calling "babygirl syndrome." we're the youngest. we grew up with older siblings. we love those siblings even when they say or do things we don't quite understand. we do our best to honor that bond.

at the same time, though, we're always striving to create and establish our own separate identity. janet's not just "michael's little sister," just how i'm not just my brothers' little sister. never mind that some people still introduce me that way when the other person has previously met one of my brothers.

think about it. janet has always been cast in the supportive little sister role in her family. artistically, though, she's put in hard work to show people that yes, she's her own woman with her own voice and opinions. i can recognize it because i've done the same thing. my brothers drive me up the fucking wall (as longtime readers and people who know me well irl can attest), but that's my family and i love them dearly even though they drive me up the fucking wall. at the same damn time, though, i've worked (and am still working) on being my own woman with my own voice and opinions. it's not easy, but it's worth it.

recipe review: pork chops with apples and onions

quasi-landlord is on a more restricted than usual diet these days. two of the things she's supposed to stay away from are onions and garlic. longtime readers know about my love of garlic, and quasi-landlord decided immediately that there was no way she could omit garlic from her diet. i'm ok with that, obviously.

onions, on the other hand...well, let's just say that there was a surplus of sweet onions on hand and something had to be done with them. i knew i had pork chops in the freezer, so off i went to my folder o'recipes. i'd honestly forgotten i had this one saved, and i have no idea what took me so long to get around to making it.

here's what i did differently: i used salt, pepper, and garlic powder (b/c garlic) to season the pork chops. i had 2 boneless cutlets and 2 bone-in chops. i used beer (blue moon to be exact, the remains of which i am drinking while i write this), 2 pink lady apples, and 1 large sweet onion. oh, and i made sweet potatoes as my side dish instead of rice or mashed potatoes.

guys. omg you guys. i am so full and happy. i am so making this again. i am so angry with myself for not making this sooner. i want y'all to make this and to be full and happy. quasi-landlord wandered in while i was cooking and pretty much demanded that i make this once her diet isn't as restricted. i will be happy to oblige.

let's talk about wonderful sex (sfw edition)

"i hope to god my child never shoots someone in the face, but i really hope she has wonderful sex." - shonda rhimes in essence magazine
— eulalia (@queeneulalia) April 21, 2015

i won't copy the rest of my tweets from my brainstorm last night, but i basically wanted to point out that a lot of us, self included, weren't raised to think that wonderful sex was an option. for me, sex education at home was "don't have sex until you're married," and "ok, here's how you get pregnant, but DON'T YOU DARE COME HOME PREGNANT BECAUSE YOUR LIFE WILL BE OVER." seriously, that was pretty much it. no talk of "hey, so when you do have sex, here's how to make it enjoyable and safe at the same time for all parties involved."

luckily i've had 20 years or so of, ahem, practice to try to keep figuring this out, but that quote from shonda really got me thinking. what is it with our society that, in 2015, there's still so much shame and stigma attached to healthy sexual relationships? why do we do this to ourselves and to the next generation?

i'm not even gonna pretend to have the answers on this one. i'm not even sure i know what questions need to be asked, but i'm willing to attempt to discuss it if y'all are.

remembering our dear miss brooks during national poetry month

gwendolyn brooks, that is. i've written previously about winning her poetry contest in 8th grade, so that should tell you how highly her work ranks with me.

i discovered "when you have forgotten sunday: the love story" during my senior year at northwestern in a performance studies class, and it's still one of my favorites.

"—And when you have forgotten the bright bedclothes on a Wednesday and a Saturday,
And most especially when you have forgotten Sunday—
When you have forgotten Sunday halves in bed,
Or me sitting on the front-room radiator in the limping afternoon
Looking off down the long street
To nowhere,
Hugged by my plain old wrapper of no-expectation
And nothing-I-have-to-do and I’m-happy-why?
And if-Monday-never-had-to-come—
When you have forgotten that, I say,
And how you swore, if somebody beeped the bell,
And how my heart played hopscotch if the telephone rang;
And how we finally went in to Sunday dinner,
That is to say, went across the front room floor to the ink-spotted table in the southwest corner
To Sunday dinner, which was always chicken and noodles
Or chicken and rice
And salad and rye bread and tea
And chocolate chip cookies—
I say, when you have forgotten that,
When you have forgotten my little presentiment
That the war would be over before they got to you;
And how we finally undressed and whipped out the light and flowed into bed,
And lay loose-limbed for a moment in the week-end
Bright bedclothes,
Then gently folded into each other—
When you have, I say, forgotten all that,
Then you may tell,
Then I may believe
You have forgotten me well."

for some reason, the poem popped into my head this morning, so i figured i might as well share it. happy monday. :-)

random reminders and remembering

try to meet people where they are. try to be ok with leaving people where they are.

engage in crazy faith and angry prayers.

find the go(o)d and grab it.

find the p(r)etty and praise it.

"they ask me to remember
but they want me to remember
their memories
and i keep on remembering
mine."

--Lucille Clifton, "why some people be mad at me sometimes"

happy national poetry month!

one of the last books i read during the 1st quarter of 2015 was this volume of poetry. i found myself nodding in agreement in certain places, and jotting down verses in others. seriously - if you're into poetry, check this book out.

one poem in particular, Heaven is No Recompense, really stuck out for me. i think it's a piece that applies to quite a few of us right now, so i'm posting it here.

Heaven is No Recompense by Angela Jackson 

Who ever you love you will lose
Sooner or later. Even you.
And you will grieve for who
Ever is lost. Even you.
How can you lose unless you hold?
And how can you hold without
Touching, being touched.
Each stroke a stroke of luck
Pity us. And love the luck.

here's to a great month for all of us.

on: thoughts that go bump in your head in the night

"aren't you afraid of falling in love again?" nope. i have so many other worries that keep me up at night.
— eulalia (@queeneulalia) March 24, 2015

it's true, though. falling in love is among the least of my worries at this point. my role as a empath means that i worry about my "family"/tribe/circle/whatever you wanna call the folks i care about the most. are they ok? are their families ok? will the black men i love and hold dear make it home in one piece? what the fuck is it with politicians and police officers and other folks in power that are so fucking hellbent on fucking shit up for people who look like me? the anxiety attacks i have about those things (and myriad others) are real and so not spectacular. sometimes i text/email/tweet certain folks just to make sure that they're still around because they've popped up in my dreams and said dreams were the polar opposite of "sweet."

honestly, any and every day that i manage to make it out of bed is a good day. just living from one day to the next is a courageous act for me. i remember my 17th birthday and being quite ready to say the hell with everything and commit suicide. i also remember a little tiny voice telling me not to give up just yet.

but then there are other not so tiny voices telling me that my life is just one big failure and there's really no point in even trying to improve things, so #minuswell give up. there are days when those voices are LOUD AS ALL HELL and it takes everything i have in me to get out of bed. those are the voices that say that i'm never going to find a full-time job. that i will be stuck living with quasi-landlord forever. that nothing i want to achieve in my life is going to happen. that all of my hard work has been for naught. that daring to be happy is a mistake. that i will exposed as a giant fraud and everyone will desert me and everything will shatter into pieces that i will be unable to put back together. that i will dare to fall in love again and it won't work. that i have been and will be rejected so often and by so many people that i won't know what acceptance looks like anymore.

i get up, though. i get out of bed and i attempt to power through my day knowing that those voices will never shut the entire fuck up. sometimes i can use that self-doubt as motivational fuel - y'know, the whole "oh yeah? well, i'll show you!" thing. sometimes it works. oftentimes it doesn't and i regret getting out of bed in the first place.

this is a big part of why i'm committed to meeting and leaving people where they are. the psychic cost of not facing my demons and of amplifying those negative voices is too great. so, yeah, sometimes i say things that give people pause. sometimes i behave in ways that other folks don't understand or agree with. sometimes i make questionable decisions on purpose. and yes, sometimes i eat and drink my way through things and feelings because adulting is hard. fuck it.

when you see me tweeting about how we're all stronger than we give ourselves credit for and how we'll get through whatever adversity we're currently faced with, please know that i am also talking to myself (and, more specifically, those loud ass voices in my head) in those moments. i know enough to know that i'm not alone in this, which is why i try my damnedest to make sure that i'm there for folks who need me. meeting people where they are. making sure they're ok. supporting and encouraging them. giving myself a break from the continuous cacophony of doubt so i can focus on someone else and maybe, just maybe, we'll all get over the hump.

this is the life i have. this is the path i'm on. i know it's not for everyone and i accept that not everyone will be fellow travelers on the road to wherever the fuck this leads. this is why i'm so incredibly grateful for those of you who are on this journey with me. for the ones who reach out to say "hey, i see you. you're ok." for the ones who don't have to say a word for me to know that they've got my back. i love you.

on: meeting (and leaving) people where they are

as previously stated, i am really trying to commit to meeting people where they are. during the past week or so, though, i've realized that not only can i meet people where they are, but i can also leave them where they are.

i don't mean that in a negative way. it's more of a realization that everyone i meet isn't going to be in my life for the long haul, and that's ok. hell, everyone i meet shouldn't be in my life for the long haul, and that's also ok - hence the leaving people where they are.

i was talking to someone last week who i previously hadn't been in contact with for almost a decade. we were catching up and they asked what my life was like now. i said that at this point, i'm just trying to live my life and be happy and anyone who's willing to join along for the ride is more than welcome, and anyone who isn't willing to support that quest can, quite simply, get the fuck out.

i don't think they were ready for that level of realness, but the journey i'm on at this moment requires nothing else than the best i can dedicate to it, and if that means leaving people where they are and continuing on my merry little way, then so be it.

when knowing the "why" doesn't make it any easier

i have been in a mood for the past, oh, 36 hours or so. bitchy, angry, depressed, sad, emo...whatever you wanna call it, i have probably experienced some variation of it since yesterday afternoon. i tweeted last night that i wanted to call off from work today because i was angry and i hated people and i just wanted to drink and make bad decisions.

i still feel that way to a certain extent, really. i would be more than happy to drink all of the drinks and leave someone else in charge of decision-making. i'm tired of being responsible and i would just like at least one day where i can just sit in relative peace and quiet and do as much or as little as i would like, preferably without pants. i miss having a place of my own where i could be as moody as i want to be and not have to justify it or talk about it or put on a happy mask.

work tonight wasn't terrible, but i still found myself wanting to be snippy when situations didn't really call for it. there have been a few anti-epiphanies floating through my head (part of why i kept waking up every 2-3 hours last night, which was as fun as you think it was) since this mood came on, but they weren't fleshed out enough for me to have a "aha!" moment about them.

it really didn't come to me until work was almost over. i am self-aware enough to know that a part of me is still in denial about lori's death. part of this mood is me dealing with that. the other part of this mood, though, is doing the math and remembering once again why february and march are so difficult for me at times.

the last time i saw my father alive was on his birthday, february 18, 1997. he died less than 2 weeks later. my mother died in march. james died in march. and now i can add lori's death date to the february calendar. this wasn't an "aha!" moment per se, but it damn sure helped me pinpoint why the hell i'm in such a mood. funny thing is, i was pondering booking a massage because holy shit the stress tension is real right now, but then i realized i might start sobbing on the massage table and that would be all kinds of uncomfortable.

instead, i will try to make sense of my thoughts and try to curb the urge to punch people in the face and try to make it through each day without dissolving into a puddle (well, in public, anyway) and we will see what happens. maybe one of these days, i will have a day off from adulting. i swear i would love nothing more than to relinquish my throne for a day and let someone else deal with all of this shit.

on: saying goodbye

hands down, this was the most difficult funeral i've been to since james died. in some ways, james' funeral was easier for me b/c some of y'all were there and troy was there and i knew w/o any doubt that if i faltered or fell, someone would catch me.

february 4. a text from carol asking if i was at home. me saying i was about to leave work and, as the texts progressing, me asking if i needed to call her. i did, and i did, and she told me lori was gone. luckily i was sitting down (and luckily carol asked if i was sitting just in case before she told me) b/c i might've hit the floor.

see, lori was gonna be invincible in my eyes. anyone who'd beaten the medical odds the way she had was bound to outlive us all. lori was the reason i coined the phrase "crazy faith and angry prayers," b/c when she was in the hospital for weeks on end for reasons that couldn't really be explained, i was crazy enough to believe she'd pull through, and angry enough to yell at god and shake my fist in his direction b/c this wasn't how shit was supposed to go down.

but it did, and she survived, and she kept us laughing and on our toes. we all knew she lost her legs, but lori never lost her spirit. her smile. her ability to make us double over at the most inane thing. it's one of the things i loved most about her.

fuck. i just typed "loved" right there and i'm not gonna lie, it kinda hurt.

anyway...from february 4 until this afternoon, i'd done a decent job, imo, of not falling apart. i kept telling myself that i could weep all of the tears at her funeral. that i would be able to say good-bye. that my family, and our church family, could say good-bye. i needed it. we needed it. lori was there to hold me up when daddy died. when james died. i really dislike attending funerals b/c of [reasons], but dammit, i was gonna be there for her and for her family. it was only right.

it wasn't until i was combing my hair while getting ready to head out this afternoon that it hit me. lori was there on my wedding day. she was in that inner sanctum helping me get ready.

and now i had to go to the same church that holds so many wonderful memories for me and say goodbye to my "play" auntie. i put that in quotes b/c really, lori was family. i mean, yeah, we called her "auntie lori," but that was more a term of endearment than any actual establishment of connection. she was there, and then she wasn't, and it is still difficult for me to deal with this. 

apropos of nothing, i found this pic of me & james, also from my wedding day, while i was looking for the above pic. it's one of my favorites. i missed "uncle james" something fierce today. i felt, if not heard him, during the service tonight, which was helpful in moments but totally broke me in others. i can tell y'all this b/c you're removed enough and you won't be broken by it. 

anyway, the picture of me & james: 

and now i need to try to catch up on sleep. i have totes magotes lost my viking status this week.

what a difference a few years can make

throughout today, i have been reminding myself that no matter how horrible the day was, it wouldn't be nearly as bad as things were three years ago.

no, seriously. this was me on valentine's day 2012. the hottest of messes. actually, that's not quite accurate. what's worse than a hot mess? b/c i'm pretty sure that's what i was this time 3 years ago.

today? i went to work and almost everyone on my crew today remembered to bring candy and/or snacks. one of our co-workers really loves valentine's day and we knew it'd mean a lot to her if we celebrated it somehow. it was pretty sweet.

also i have plenty of chocolate on hand, so i don't have to worry about my stash approaching dangerously low levels. which is good, b/c the wind chill is getting ridiculous and i don't wanna go outside until i absolutely have to.

compared to 2012, the fact that i'm back in chicago full-time and have a part-time job still amazes me sometimes. honestly, there were times when i really wasn't sure how i was going to claw my way back. there are still times when i'm not sure how i'm gonna make this all work, but at least i'm in the city i love and in close proximity to my wonderful circle of friends and yes i'm being a bit sappy about it. i'm entitled.

i hope y'all had a great day, or at least a day that didn't completely suck. :-)

on: a week full of feelings

omg you guys it's friday. if friday was an actual person, i might give it a hug or buy it a drink or something. holy christ. i remember being happy that january was over b/c january really was on some fuckshit for a lot of people i know and i was glad to see it go.

monday was lab work at the hospital before work. i schedule these tests right before work so i only have to make one trip up to evanston and not "lose" one of my days off. the problem, though, is that hospitals make me claustrophobic if i'm in one for longer than, say, 2 hours. luckily, i got to the hospital early (on the day after a blizzard, no less) and got in and out before i hit that threshold, but i totally felt myself on the verge of losing my shit. it also helped that i'd built in enough time between my appointment and when i needed to be at work to grab a late lunch and try to regain some semblance of normalcy.

tuesday was pretty productive, actually. i applied for jobs and filed my taxes (yay for making just enough to owe the government $10) and made an appointment to get my hair cut next week (i may or may not be considering cutting a significant amount of my hair, but i'm a wuss and who knows what i'll actually do). i also attempted to re-enroll in a health insurance plan (thank you, president obama!) but my doctor only accepts a plan that i'm not qualified for. at least i have the option of finding out if another doctor in the practice accepts one of my alternative plans.

wednesday. wednesday about broke me. first it was work-related stuff - my schedule might be changing a bit b/c of management [reasons]. then i found out that one of my nearest and dearest family friends died on wednesday. i know enough to know that i am still kind of in shock and/or denial about this news. i don't know when the funeral is yet, but i know i need to go and say my goodbyes and have all the feelings with my family, both of the blood relations and of the church variety. i also found out on wednesday that a bar in my neighborhood is closing and when i went there with a girlfriend wednesday night, the feelings kinda hit me out of nowhere. i realized that a lot of ladybrunches happened there right around the time that my life was going through all of the changes, so that bar was kind of a safe haven of sorts and now it's closing and omg feels.

yesterday my phone decided to stop functioning and verizon was nice enough to offer me an "upgrade" that would cost me more per month for half the data i'm getting now. yeah...no. at least i got my phone to work, thanks to all the experience i had resetting it back in november.

today was pretty solid, though, b/c i won free shoes from dsw. it's nice to be a winner. :-)

so, yeah. all of the feelings this week. at some point i will have some sort of meltdown (more than likely at the funeral) but until then, i'm relying on my ability to compartmentalize and i'll just keep swimming, just keep swimming...:P