Cathartic Thoughts

There never seems to be enough hours in my Saturdays to do all that I have to do. My day started early. I was up at 7:30 and at the cemetery for my walk at 8 a.m. I grabbed breakfast on my way to a meeting.

I had a meeting at the mall with my NaNo co-ML to review some plans for the kickoff. We nailed down the location, got some ideas and encouragement about the goodie bags and write-ins. From there I headed to Hobby Lobby again to try and pick up some things. They didn't have the items but I picked up some other things... books for Sarah. I went from there to Office Depot to get ink in a couple of forms.

My next stop was home where I stayed long enough to talk to Dave about lunch before we went searching for it.

I ran out of steam around 2 p.m. and came home for a few hours. For some reason the day came crashing down and I was plunged into the abyss. You know the one. Every once in awhile it opens its maw and I am sucked into the dark. I had to get out of the house and the only thing I could think of was the solitude of the cemetery. At 6 p.m. I took second walk in the cemetery.

I suppose if I had met anyone they would have been concerned for my mental state. I walked and cried. Yes, I know. But I did. And I prayed and cried some more. It didn't help. The overwhelming desire to go home again is one that can't ever be resolved for me. I've lost a whole family in more ways than one. It doesn't end. There is no solution, no fix, no relief from the desire to go home. There is no home left to go to.

I do not like these disturbances when they come. The walk was more or less a fugue. I walked but as to what I saw or heard I don't recall much but the pavement at my feet.

Once I left the cemetery it was nearly 7 p.m. and was dusk. I needed headlights to drive. I'll have to be doing the walks by 5:30 before much longer. At least the days are still comfortable. I dread the thought of walking in the cold.

I didn't go home immediately. I was still far to upset so I went to Sonic to collect my free drink and eat onion rings. I pretty much sat my usual stall at the back, facing the darkened hearing aid store and cried. Believe me when I tell you that eating and crying is near impossible. Once I finished with both I sat for a while and just tried to regain some sense of control. Once home I simply sat around doing nothing.

Sarah came over around 8:00 for the night. We read the new books and started watching The Indian in the Cupboard. She fell asleep about halfway through but I watched the whole thing. It is still a great movie.

I don't know why I stopped to write this blog. Maybe because these days it is my only real source of conversation. I've become a fair recluse I think. I'm fine with it most of the time. Except when I'm not: i.e. when I see a family having a good time, or a couple laughing with one another, anything that remotely resembles my old life robs me of light.

I may have mentioned this before but I've taken to avoiding all manner of situations. I still don't watch a whole genera of movies and don't read quite a lot of a certain type of book. Suspense, thrillers, or British mysteries, all minus the homey scenes of other movies. I also don't do death scenes or love scenes. Those are potty or food breaks. In fact, in real life I avoid experiences that revive memories. Holidays, such as the upcoming Thanksgiving, are still not things I want to do. I'm obligated to do them but they no longer hold much appeal for me.

Still the blog is my catharsis. And now, I suspect sleep will be one also.