Solstice came and went. It’s been really really wet. Non stop rain. And it’s actually only be two days of it, but still. Enough’s enough.
So I did my coffee on Midwinter. Or whatever it’s called. I’m still processing. I’m still processing a decade of feelings and now new/old feelings on top of that. No, I guess in the absence of that. I’m confused with myself, but all in all I think in a good place.
School is out, and the kids are going bat-shit. And we still have two days before Xmas. And I still have roughly a fuck-ton of shopping to do. The missus is concerned we don’t have ‘enough’ for the Eldest, to which I replied we could hold back some of the other stuff for the others.
I know it’s an American thing to give into the desire for excess, but still. Overboard is always overboard. Love is also love, and not shown by material things. I wish we could get the grandparents to understand that. I’m not sure of the in-laws’ thinking, but I know mine want to give more since we didn’t get ‘a lot’ growing up. Looking back, I know we did fine. Hell, we did better than fine seeing as how we got stuff. Still, I’m guessing there is some sort of maternal guilt at play.
I think I might have some… issues. I’m jumping back a bit to the coffee outing, and I’m still trying to break it all down. For roughly five years, maybe six, of the last decade anytime I though of the the friend I could see nothing except that wife. And her tears. Her face. Her throwing up from the stress and anxiety of the absence of her best friend. And I couldn’t get any further. Finally after that time I began to poke and prod at the notion of trying to talk. And it quickly fell back to that same image. Burning. Haunting. I probably should have said something to her sooner, but I couldn’t even find a way to articulate this rage within spewing it. A few more years and I began to realize that maybe my presence was also missed. I though it was crazy, considering. It’s one of those weird things where they were friends before I was even in the picture, so my friendship shouldn’t really matter. It wasn’t sorrow, or remorse, or really anything. It just… was.
Something finally clicked a few months back, and even then the anger was still there. It wasn’t until probably a month ago that I think that image that had entrenched itself in my mind for so long slipped. I don’t know any other way to put it.
I could have said something. I could have said something sooner. I still want to say something to the missus. To the friend. I don’t think it’s a matter of pride or stubbornness. Really. Never was there a point where I though to myself ‘I’m doing this simply because I ain’t gonna do nothing no different’. And I’m not blaming anybody else. My silence has been my doing. I don’t regret it, though I must admit that maybe I should. Maybe I should, and maybe I should have reached out much much sooner.
The rain is coming down even harder. In just these past minutes it’s hitting so hard that I can’t hear the keys clicking, and I’m having to bump up the volume for my music. I’m on my porch, typing and sipping. I’m trying to pour some heavy stuff here, I think and I also think I’m not quite getting it. I think I think too much. Possibly not in the right way, but still. Too much thought.
I got to go back out into this. Soon. I got shit to get for nieces and nephews and only two days more to do so. I’m going to pillage or stuff and see what we already have socked away, so maybe I won’t have to get so much, but still. More more more. And then some.
I hope the chickens don’t wash away. I hope the dog doesn’t freak out any more than he already is since lightning has shown up to join the party. I want something to drink. Like drink drink, not just the water. I think I need a shower, I probably smell a bit.
I wondering if there is a limit to the posts. I’m not trying for it, but I’m pushing 800 words here, and I still keep typing.
I want my children to value anger. Henry Rollins put it excellently that anger can motivate and galvanize you like nothing else. I’d like to think I’ve used some for good, and I’m realizing that at other times it has been quite a hamper and detriment to one’s state of mind.
This is probably my last post until the new year. Maybe. Might try to get another one in. Hell, scratch that, I’m going to get another one in. I’m not ending the year on a mediocre note. I’m going to get at least one more in, on a happy sappy note, and yes I’m a bit angry over this. Angry at myself for daring to sulk and mope and just sort of let the end of 2015 coast on by on this. This note of nothing. Because really, looking back up the page I see that that is what I’ve got. Nothing. So until next time I’m off to wrap presents. I’m off to dig out presents first. And then, I’m going to slog out in this shit and get more presents and I’m going to wrap those.
Merry Fucking whatever you celebrate, people. Hope it was a good one, is a good one, and is going to be a good. I’m damn sure going to enjoy mine.