The only semi-evil thing my mother ever did to me was to shove me, unsuspectingly, into the swimming pool of a condo community we called home in Anaheim, California. I was safe the whole time. It finally taught me to swim. But it's something many of us have experienced. That flailing leap, fall, or shove into the deep end of a pool.
That, my friends and on-lookers, is kind of how I feel about this blog entry. I haven't wanted to write. I keep walking by the pool. I'm aware of it. I'm aware that I need to deal with it. But this particular entry is a case of walking by my unsuspecting self and shoving said self into the deep end of judasforgiven.com. So, here we go.
Two trips to the emergency room at River Bend this week have created this tidal wave of mourning. (Just had to pause for a minute to talk with yet another collector. Not the cool kind, like Beanie Babies, comic books or, in my case, Monopoly tokens. But the kind that says things like, "You owe these people $2500 and these other $4000 and you need to pay it today." Let's see if I can get back on track... I swear, embracing my A.D.D. has been great and horrible. Let's try again.)
Two trips to the emergency room at River Bend this week have created this tidal wave of mourning. I didn't really realize it until Wednesday night when I was so emotional in the hospital. I'm not really sure how to deal with all this. It should be noted that I'm not really looking for any advice either. I appreciate the urge to help. But it's just a swamp I need to forge through on my own. I said to Tony, my pastor, last night, "I think I'm mourning my own death. I guess we all do that," and he replied, "No, Aaron, we really don't." It's probably true. Most people don't have to go through a grieving process for their own life.
A recent study found that male monkeys will give up their juice rewards in order to see pictures of female monkey's bottoms.
This is hard. It's excruciating. I sat on the edge of the bed last night, as I woke the princess sleeping beside me, I sobbed uncontrollably. Knowing how much sleep she has lost the past two nights as we sat in the ER I finally headed for the living room, closing the bedroom door behind me. I cried alone for a few more hours, finally reaching the point where no more tears are left and my head was pounding. It's interesting. I'm not my biggest fan. I'd expect to send my respects. But tears? Really?
In the midst of all this I stopped and took a moment to ask Facebook friends and Twitter, I think, to pray for my family. I know that I have many friends who would say that my improved facial expressions today is just a manner of serotonin or more sleep. My life experience, the miracles that have held my life together, tells me that those prayers worked. Sometimes, I guess, you can't "choose joy" on your own. Occasionally you need help.
I'm still grieving today. It's not done yet. This process may last until my actual E.T.D. I don't know. But today, again, seems a little brighter.
My Dad just showed up, my little girl is now going insane (she loves him), and my battery (in the computer) is almost dead. I have some errands to run and need to decide whether to pay that creditor some amount of money or try to cover rent and insurance another month. So I've got to go.