I went to bed an hour late, I got up an hour late. I was in a fog until about half way through my walk and then I finally started to wake up.
And let's not discuss how many actual hours of "work" I've logged in. Let's just say it's going to be busy busy busy from here till Tuesday trying to make it up.
I'm not looking forward to this coming week. 9/11 traumatized me very much, and every year it's like honoring the anniversary of a death. It was a death of sorts - not because I knew anyone, but because it was the death of a security I always took for granted. I cannot even wrap my mind around what it's like for those who live in NYC or Washington DC, for those who knew the victims - or the survivors themselves. My best friend said that he watched a documentary which interviewed a lady who lived in an apartment in the vicinity of the WTC, who had bodies literally rain down on her balcony.
I'd still have to be in intensive therapy. Actually - I'd probably need to be in a home.
Right now I'm feeling really numb. Because it's not just 9/11 this year. This year, 9/11 is followed closely by 9/13 and I dread it, dread it, dread it. It's the anniversary of Dan's passing. I dread it not just for me but for my kids. Poor Jeremiah's birthday is 9/17, and he doesn't know what to feel. Overwhelming sadness because he lost his dad crashes against the anticipation that all kids should have when they face a birthday.
Life is cruel and fate has a morbid sense of timing, that's all I have to say. Timothy's birthday is just the day after Brandon (my other son's) passed and now Jeremiah. I have resigned myself to the fact that I was meant to be their mother because of the experiences I have endured regarding death, so that I could help them through these things. But I don't really know how to help them, considering I tend to agree with them - it really totally sucks.
I'm not worried about eating the pain away. Like I said I'm pretty well numb at this point. I think, since the Beaches incident a couple of weeks ago, that I put all my emotions on mute. It just got to be too much. I know that some posts coming up will be more emotionally driven, because I'm going to use this as my outlet and not food, so bear with me. I anticipate the numbness will go away, probably without warning.
The depression is working a little bit more insidiously this time around, I noticed a cough a few days ago. At first it kind of scared me a little because I don't recall ever getting a cough out of no where. That, after my week of exhaustion had me going to my hypochondriac extremes thinking OMG it's heart failure.
Now this isn't completely without merit. Several years back I lost a fellow coworker to heart failure and she was only 26 years old. So her initial symptoms have forever burned into my memory. So much so that when I had my gallbladder trouble a couple of years ago I could have sworn it was heart trouble. I had every heart test known to man just to make sure, I can't even tell you how many times I went to the ER with "chest pains". Turns out they were upper abdominal pains instead.
But I'll never laying on an ER gurney thinking, "That's it, buckaroo. You blew it. You threw caution to the wind for decades, growing to a scary, morbidly obese size and you painted yourself into a corner." I was sure I was afflicted with some life threatening condition I brought on myself because of a lifetime of bad choices.
And now, here I am, on the cusp of making a success out of myself and what happens? I freak out over every little hiccup and cough like I'm going to drop over dead at any moment.
I'm sure it's all psychological. Some deep seated fear that I do not deserve success and that God is going to kill me before I can realize some of these dreams. Kind of like George Costanza on Seinfeld, where he flips out over a white spot on his face right around the time their pilot was due to air.
Anyway as of next month we're going to be totally covered with medical insurance and I am going to have a complete physical, get all checked out, top to toe. So no more of this stuff. I've got too much to do to waste my time on these kind of foundless worries.
Yesterday I studied a book I bought on writing sitcoms, read it nearly cover to cover - studying until I got a headache. I think I'm ready to put the finishing touches on this script. So next week I'll put it up and let you all get to see what I've been toiling over.
I'm pretty proud of it, to be honest. I really think it's got a fighting chance to make it. And my new co writer for Comic Squad says it's just about ready and is going to start sending out feelers to his contacts to see if we'll get any bites.
It's coming. And white spot or not, God's not going to kill me before I see that success. :)
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