I am feeling very emotional today. It’s so fucking hot outside but inside I feel that dead of winter level despair. At least in the dead of winter I’d have the comfort of cashmere. As is I have boob sweat. Ew.
I am missing my mom so terribly today. I do not know how to live without her. And yet, time just goes on. Shit happens in my life and she will never, ever be part of it again.
Sometimes I feel that little girl inside crying “i want my mom”. And I just think “yeah, me too.”. It’s unfathomable that for however long I live, she is gone. I know she’s fucking dead. But. She is such a part of my life, of me, that it seems like it is just not possible.
I “should” be used to it by now. It’s been years. Sometimes I am “used to it”. But today I fucking miss her.
She would have loved this blog, maybe cringing and not reading half the posts. She was a lesbian, I doubt she wanted to read about all the dicks I’ve sucked per se, but she would have been, like, proud of me. For writing. For sharing it. Even as she cringed at the too TMI moments.
Part of me is proud of it too. But then the part of me that “knows I’ll fuck everything up soon enough somehow” is so ashamed of even typing the word “proud” that I’m fucking crying. This is why I need my mom. I don’t have anyone who loves me that unconditionally, who knows me that deeply, and I never will again. Ever.
When shit falls apart I need her. Without her I feel on the edge of just falling through the cracks of life. I’m fine. I’ve gotten through several hells since getting through the hell of her death, all clearly without her. But I want to call her right now and talk to her about what a fucking mess I am. How happy and terrified at the same time. I want to tell her about the fucking boys I like, for fuck’s sake.
My inner teenager is on the surface. Partly it’s PMS and peri-menopause is ramping up my emotional response to my period so it’s always at like 14, when my normal emotional level is probably like a 9 regularly. I’d love to say 7 but, some of you reading this know me. Y’all would laugh at 7.
I think this blog is a replacement for calling my mom. I just realized that, like, right now.
Yep. A touch thick in the head.