9:41 p.m. - 2006-08-06
I'm afraid I've been returning to my old methods of grief containment. I've been eating to quell the fear, anger and intense sadness. I'm learning so much. So much about how I came to be who I am, and how I came to feel the way I feel. How I came to be a woman who needs a layer of extra flesh to stay safe.
When I keep my stomach full, I don't feel the torturous ache. I can control the ache that way. I can pack it away.
But that's what I did before, isn't it? I had no choice. It was hide my grief, or be beaten. Slapped across the face I'd have bruises in the shape of fingers. Hair pulled, scratched, ridiculed, shamed. I had no choice.
I still have no choice. I can't keep it at bay even when I want to. I cry at work, in the car, in the grocery store, and especially, when I see her and when I'm home alone at night. My heart is on my sleeve and my face betrays my emotions.
Tonight I made dinner for my brother, nephew, mom and step-dad. And my nephew filled my home with light.
So, perhaps, there is some hope.
But, here come the tears once again. I speak of hope, then the darkness enfolds me in its grip.
We have an appointent with the vet tomorrow evening. I'm prepared to have x-rays taken and discuss surgical options. I'm trying to look at this as fixable. No matter what it costs. I have my trip money, the little I started saving for a home downpayment, and I have credit available. If surgery is what needs to be done, it will be done.
I need more time to deal with the idea of death. I need to do some work around it. I know that a lot of it comes from my horrificly stunted grieving process early on. And the subsequent hell I lived in until I became an adult. There is so much I have to undo and re-learn. Not that death will become any easier, but I need so much to be able to accept life after death here on earth for those left behind, and wherever we go when life is over.
I am scared to death of death.
For myself and for the beings I love. I don't want to die one day in fear. I want to believe something good and right and wonderful, like the christians who are so comforted when they tell themselves that their loved ones are with Jesus and are actually happier.
I'd like very much to believe that I'll go to heaven one day and be met by my dad and my pooch. I can't imagine a better life to move on to. I'd almost be excited about it.
Faith... I can't tell you how often I've prayed for it. Day in and day out. Year after year. But still, nothing...
It would be so nice to believe in something.