I haven't written much lately.
In fact...I haven't done much of anything lately except work.
..and drink.
I've completely avoided doing anything to help me deal with my Dad's death.
This I know.
I know I've been doing everything BUT try to deal with it. Despite the nightmares that constantly remind me of what happened. I don't talk about it.
I don't even really have anyone to talk about it to so I just go about my days pretending like
it didn't. Or, idk - that if it did happen...it didn't happen to me.
That other girl. The one sobbing in the corner. It happened to her; she's a fucking mess.
I do keep trying to find things to occupy my inability to deal with ANYTHING in my life.
The smallest things, any even remote attempt at slowly readjusting into society in ANY way get's completely thwarted by my inability to find it in me to actually do it.
I hide behind Pinterest quotes that make me look like I'm inspiring and positive but the reality of it is that; yup...
I'm sobbing in the corner raging like a completely insane person.
No I'm not. I'm inundating myself with work. I say YES to everything other than myself. I've been trying to meditate but all I seem to really do is lament in my own anger.
Why have I designed for myself this cage where the bars are easy enough to slip out of...but still; I am trapped.
I do try to get away from patterns of negativity only to see the same fucking repetitive behavior I have been engaging in for years.
I've been really hung up on the fact that my ex didn't message me and tell me he was sorry that my Dad had died. It has been enough of an anger crutch for me to not have to deal with my Dad actually having died.
Until today, and a book. It ALWAYS shows up in a book and as I write this, my face still stained with tears. I'm still in disbelief that the universe works this way. A fucking book.
I don't really read that much. I love to read and I am constantly distracting myself with Goodreads quotes until I have convinced myself that I at least LOOK like the smartest person I know on Facebook. (*still in the corner sobbing).
The Mermaid Chair. Those of you that know me are laughing. You know the satire I have played myself into. I hate paintings mermaids. There I said it. Why do I hate painting mermaids? Because half of my life has been spent in the water and since my divorce I can barely look at the ocean without losing my shit. There...I said that out loud too.
Here I am hiding in the mountains. *Cage.
So, I start reading the book. I'll try to describe it as briefly as possible as to why this is relevant.
The main character is a woman from South Carolina. She makes art boxes(assemblage). Her Mom cuts off her finger (amputation). Woman now goes home to help her mom (beach next to Monastery that houses said Mermaid Chair). Falls in love with a Monk (unavailable man). Separates from her husband because she needs to be alone (has lots of sex with Monk). In the meantime is asked by a local shop owner to start painting MERMAIDS for her shop.
She doesn't really want to paint mermaids because she really loves making ART BOXES.
While on the island she revisits her Fathers death and how it is somehow connected with her mom's desire to cut off her own fingers.
The Monk and her are in love he suggests that they move to ASHEVILLE. (As I was reading this I kept looking around like someone was watching me. (Anyone who knows my movie director boyfriend story doesn't find this part of this that unrealistic either). *Thanks Chusy for the permanent installation of paranoia. Muah.)
The plot unfolds and the woman realizes that she came back to the island to try to come to terms with her Father's death. REALLY??? Now? right now? *loses shit.
That all these years she has been putting herself inside of a box because of her inability to deal with it. Thus her art.
Fuck you stupid fucking mermaid book. Fuck you.
I'm taking the weekend off. I'm really sad about my Dad and I'm tired of pretending and hiding under this pile of work.
I should have known when I started reading it...but what I didn't know was how hard this was all going to be. How would I?
