le sigh

Part of my problem is that it’s winter. It’s cold, rainy, and miserable most of the time… Interspersed with days of warm, sunny brilliance… it’s freekin bipolar down here. It is extraordinarily difficult to dress appropriately down here. Layering means you’re fine outside, but inside you’re dying, no matter how many layers you take off. Plus, being that I don’t own many ‘medium’ size pieces of clothing, and that’s currently the clothing that fits well, I’m mainly left with jeans and tshirts. Which doesn’t help… because they’re t’s from the junior’s section, so they only go a bit past my waist. They’re not terribly warm. I have big arms, for my bodysize… because I actually have a bit of muscle. So, coats that fit have terribly narrow sleeves, so I can’t wear more than a single long sleeve under any of my coats. In general, “winter” is a pain in the ass in NC, and we still have construction.

Part of my problem is that I’m feeling a bit guilty about what an atrocious daughter/granddaughter I am. I haven’t talked to my mom in ages, for no other reason than it’s freeking exhausting to talk to her, she’s so draining for some reason. I haven’t talked to my gramma because… I don’t know… Because I feel badly that I haven’t talked to her. My grandfather is in the hospital, having suffered yet another heart attack. While this hurts the part of me that vaguely remembers being his little granddaughter, I’ve never really known the man all that much, and talking to him is hugely awkward. My grandparents H are still probably the same, my grandfather slipping deeper and deeper into Alzheimer’s, and my grandma still having to care for him while who knows what is going on with her. My dad… sigh.

So I get news about my grandfather, and then other shit happens elsewhere that makes me realize I’m spending my time in ways I really don’t want to… and it gets me really thinking about where I’m headed, and where I’ve been. I’m not sure if it’s that things get worse right at the more fragile times in my life, like the whole Shannon with cancer thing, or if it’s that I’m just more sensitive to the bullshit that’s constantly going on. In the past I’ve said something, lashed out, and thrashed about like a wounded animal because I look for solace in the distraction interaction with others brings me and got reprimanded for some harmless fun. And, as I’m a little numb at the moment, I can say that it was a tad melodramatic of me, I suppose.

So I choose silence. Not because any one thing has driven me to it, but because I’ve come to a realization that happens to coincide with some other depressing shit happening in my life., and I choose not to make much of a big deal about it. I’m no better and certainly no worse than anyone else on this planet. I’m just a huge procrastinator who doesn’t keep in touch with people simply because I keep meaning to get around to it and never do. I try to capture all I can and live my life somewhat fully… yet my preference for solitude pulls me away from interaction with others whom I will surely miss when they are gone.

The withdrawal, and the shell, are often for my own protection. I cannot be hurt if I am not attached. Physical pain I can endure. Emotional pain, failure, and loss cripple me, leave me huddled and frozen and lost. I’ve never had someone I love die. Even my pets. When Otto’s lost people it hurt, but only because it hurt him, and because it hurt others.

I know, that when I lose someone, the only one who will suffer for my inattentive, childish behavior is me. I’ll be the one who lacks closure, who didn’t get to say ‘I love you’ one more time. They’ll be dead. Dead people don’t hurt, they just feed the earth.

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