Mooshy, sad, pissed-off stuff.

My 'jog on' wore off.

A friend wrote to tell me that she noticed that I was hiding, and that she wanted to let me know she was thinking of me. I thought I would just write back and say 'thank you', but as it often happens when i get letters or lines beneath my fingertips, the truth comes out. The following is the main body of the reply i sent her. i thought it might be smart to share this with anyone who cares about me. thank you.

"the anniversary of dad's death is today, robbie's next week, and lovely, wonderful mothers' day always falls in between. i have decided as of today to boycott mother's day, except as a financial windfall, from now on.
and no amount of pretending otherwise in public and to family and friends is going to take away the fact that my own child is dead, and freshly, and i have to deal with that as the public - and my family and friends - see fit. that is harder and hurts more than anyone (except maybe chris) knows. because she was a dog, i am not allowed the same grief, it seems [another friend] said something to me on friday night that really, finally drove that point home. i carry it as best i know how and find that my love and compassion for the rest of the world has dimmed as a result. i try even harder, in an attempt to morally contradict my selfish anger, to be good and polite and helpful and understanding, and turn a little more into steel every day.
i still cry for Luna every day. every step i take, i look for her out of the corner of my eye. if i am coming home i still think 'I'll get to see Luna in a minute!", and that breaks me down to the ground every time. in the house, i still sometimes habitually ask chris where she is like i did when i couldn't see her and she'd gone quiet. there is a hole in the world where she was. i don't know how else to put it, but i miss her more than i've ever missed any human. i loved and trusted her more too. she was such a natural part of me, and of my life, that i had no idea how much i depended on her until she was gone. even just dealing with the grief of that realization is a plateful... but that is life isn't it? all of that is/was to be expected, and i know i'll cope with it just like i have with everything else. the hard part is trying to pretend like things are still the same with the people around me, or that things even ok in any way. trying to pretend like i'm fine because it very much seems that this is what people expect of me. trying to gracefully understand and deal with people's insensitivity about it, trying to remember every *!#$%&* day why i do that, knowing for sure, underneath it all that it's not really worth it - but it's my job. my heart has changed like metal in fire, and not for the good. i understand my own mother now better than i ever thought i could. i can only hope that i am looking at it from the opposite side of the mirror. i suppose only time will tell."
...

lots of scary things swimming under the surface. i tend to forget how phosphorescent my anger can burn. i do my best to contain the fire, but that's bad in a way too. i have been actively working on taking a more 'zen' perspective, and trying hard to be more kind and accepting, though i definitely feel less so. it seems like the only practical defense.
as for the scary swimmers, thank god i can deal with them here. i can be honest with SOMEone... anyone who cares to listen, in fact. what a blessing. and even if no one is listening, it still makes me feel like i've tried to do something to help myself, even if it's just put a message in a bottle and cast it out on the scary water.
i guess i need to remember that there are good things about phosphorous. it burns even in water, and it puts off a hell of a light.

burning,
-s