HOLY HELL! I want to blackeye someone up!

Ok so I was told I need to listen to a podcast called something like "The Parent Experiment". I'm not sure if it was supposed to be poignant or funny or what, but I lost interest about 10 minutes into it and it made me want to smack a ho. These two women (of whom I am giving ZERO credit for anything so you're not getting their names) were discussing the trials and tribulations of parenting. I'm thinking, "awesome I can so relate to this!" We have to laugh about parenting or else you cry. You cry because your whole life, all the hopes and dreams and ideals you had about life are no longer, your life now revolves around messy, unappreciative, demanding small sized people. When the fuck did that happen? Fucking hormonal biological clock motherfucker. Let me go back a second.
I have to preface this with the fact that I would never go back and change my life for a kid free life. The perspective I have gained being a parent has given me is something I would have never gotten and I don't care how experienced a person is in caring for children unless you have your own you still don't have that perspective. It's different, it's inexplicable and it's stupid, that's the best way I can put it. Well what the fuck, I never said parenting made me a wordsmith.
So back to this retarded Parent Experiment. These dumb (rich) bitches are discussing how exhausting parenting is (they each had two kids -hahaha, that's cute, toddlers could parent two kids, except they should use the the stove, but fuck I know a lot of lazy fucking parents that don't use the stove so I guess I stand by my initial opinion) and they've got a snarky tone going. That's what I'm looking for. I want someone to make me laugh and be able to relate to similar experiences. All is going fine and then this one stupid bitch has the audacity to say, "well I have some help in the mornings getting the kids off to school". UM WHAT? YOU HAVE "some help"? YOU HAVE TWO CHILDREN AND NO JOB YOU CRAPTASTIC WHORE what in the living fuck do you need help with? So help me god you better be a goddamn paraplegic or have shrapnel in your brain, because I don't know one single bitch that has "help" getting her kids off to school. Not only that, but none of the bitches I know have the audacity to say they are conducting a parent experiment. Oooooooh wait a gall darn minute here, maybe that's the problem. Oh ok, I get it now, those dickholes of a mom need "help" because they're too goddamn busy experimenting and not parenting. My fucking husband (and he's a FUCKING MAN) can get five kids out the fucking door every day without any goddamn help. Sheesh. Get real people or get off the fucking airwaves, you're ruining life for the rest of us.

I don't know why I stopped blogging.

I haven't kept up with my blog. I've been trying to create myself a story and photo time line. I'm not sure why I feel like it is going to be therapeutic, but I feel like I have confusion and jumbled thoughts in my head that take up space and if I can get them out on paper and read it like a story then maybe it will make more sense and I can leave it on paper and make room for more thoughts, or even healthier thoughts. I feel like there are years that are lost to me and I don't know who I was, who I belonged to or where I came from and that causes me frustration. There are times in my life that I can't tell you where I lived and what school I went to and even though that's not important I feel like it's missing in my head and I hate missing information. Not everyone remembers their preschool or what their teacher's name was in the second grade, but I have so many of those "non remembers" and nobody I can ask that I feel like there are chunks missing that I wasn't even involved in my own life. Most people can ask their parents what town they lived in when they were in first grade or how many schools they attended for elementary or at the very least go through old school report cards, but I don't have that option and it creates an underlying anxiety for me. I've always hated not knowing shit, if I don't have the answer I have to look or research until I find it, but with this I can't really. I only have flashes of houses, or neighbors or schools and I'm trying to piece that together. Why does this matter? It doesn't really, but maybe it does. Early this month I was in a thrift store browsing for baubles to mount on my wall and got kicked in the gut. This thrift store was the flashbacks of all flashbacks, it wasn't one of those nice thrift stores where you can find a cute Kate Spade clutch for $10. It was the kind that had the same sort of shit you would have found in 1985 out by the corner waiting for the trash man. The one item that floored me was a white Carebear sleeping bag. Yeah in 2002 the Carebears have became a fad again, but this wasn't from 2002, it was from about 1984. The sleeping bag was cloth, not the shiny, slippery rayon feeling fabric of more modern sleeping bags. It was old, worn and dirty, but it brought me right back to 1984, which is one of the years that is more difficult for me to remember. I can recall 1982 better than '84, which confuses me even more. This sleeping bag evoked literal emotion from me. I felt like I was kicked in the stomach and felt like I needed to sit on the floor and cry. I don't know why and I don't like that I don't know why. I know 1984 was a scary, bad time in my life, but I want to be able to look back and understand why and to reassure myself that I am, in fact, fine in spite of it. I can't do that though like I can with other memories though. Instead I feel like I'm feeling the emotions that I felt back then and I long to comfort that, but you can't comfort something you don't understand. At the time I wasn't so sure why this stuck with me, but thinking of a conversation I had with a friend made me realize something about myself that makes me uncomfortable. She said, "you're so fragile". NO THE FUCK I'M NOT! I'M MADE OF MOTHERFUCKING GRANITE! NOTHING BOTHERS ME! Well wait a minute, Marie. Hold your goddamn horses. She's right. I am fra-gee-lay. I'm always two steps away from the edge. So close in fact, that looking at a damn sleeping bag in a trashed out store affects me for days. That is what made me realize I'm carrying too much shit in my head. I've always been the person who has to put pen to paper to get it out and I've been doing it on my own, but I've put my brain on hiatus for awhile and now I see if I don't get all the shit that is hiding up there out I might step too close to that edge someday and have a damn breakdown. Now to be fair, I'm not even sure what a real breakdown exists of, or what it would be for me. What I do know is I do not want to be garage-saling some day and see a Strawberry Shortcake lamp that brings me to my knees or smell the smell of an apartment entry way that smells slightly like smoke, cheap paint and cockroach repellent and end up sucking my thumb in the corner. I have created a crusty, outer shell that I've put around my tender inner self to keep it safe. For a long time that shield has been impenetrable and I had just assumed it would always stay that way. Now I realize over the years that armor has been slowly cracking and becoming more vulnerable. I think it's time for me to start taking active participation in slowly removing that armor on my own. Peel it away in a safe, controlled manner, as opposed to suffering from a glancing blow that I'm unprepared for. I'll get back to it, whether on my own time writing down my story, searching for clues that teach me who I am or here, blogging about shit that might be mind-numbing to read, but serves a purpose for me. I don't like the idea of being vulnerable, but if it must happen, I want to be an active participant in my own life.

Damn I feel like I need to rant.

I have to say I don't have any huge pressing issues. Sure I have lots of stupid ass little things. Oh wait! Speaking of little things, here is a rant; fricken kids.

1. I know your ass isn't wearing those flipflops or swimshoes any time in the next 8 months get that shit off the shoe rack and put it in your room. Sheesh.

2. You know why it takes you so long to empty the dishwasher? Because you take everything out of the dishwasher and put it on the counter before putting it away. WHY DO YOU DO THAT?! That is DUMB. You are adding a middle-man. You are creating more work. This is why it takes you 20 minutes to do a 5 minute job.

3. Hi, it's me mom. You see all the shit I pulled out from under your dresser and bed and threw in the middle of the floor? Then I told you to go clean your room? Yeah that's the shit I mean that you're supposed to pick up. You're not supposed to shove it back under the furniture I just removed it from. That just pisses me off. Don't poke the goddamn bear.

4. You're really cute and pretty and I like what you've done with your hair. However, now that you're doing your hair do you think you could take the .015 seconds of your life and maybe flip it out of your shirt collar? Yeah I've mentioned that to you before remember? It makes me want to punch the back of your head when I see that. Yeah I won't, but still know I'm thinking about it, ok?

5. When we are dishing out food at dinner and you grab a dish or ask for something do you really think it's incredibly necessary to hoard it all around you when you're finished? I know maybe you might want more, but sometimes in real families that have a clue they take a portion and then perhaps pass it along to another person at the table. This is really a neat notion as family can actually discuss things about their day rather than spend the entire meal asking for the salt or to pass the potatoes.

6. Do you ever notice how there is a full feeling as your bladder is filling up? Like once it starts to get towards the top you might want to stop and perhaps empty said bladder. If not, the urine starts to flow through the little body canals and come out your urethra. I know that you wait until it is dripping before you start for the bathroom, that is the reason you piss your pants more often than grandma. On a good day your bulldozing your way through the house and knocking animals and small children out of the way might work for you, but really is that a risk you're willing to take every day?

7. Hey you, it's time for bed. We've hugged, we've kissed, we've even discussed the lunch menu for tomorrow, now please just leave me alone. I love you dearly. I would skin a mountain lion with my bare nails for you, but right now I just want to sit in my bedroom, eat the candy I hide from you and have sex with my husband without having to say, "GET AWAY FROM MY DOOR". Do you think we could work on that? You fell out of bed, pissed the bed or have an open wound, sure feel free, until that happens do you think we could exercise some discretion? One of these days you're going to see or hear something you don't want to and really wish you would have listened to your mother.


There I feel better. Thanks for that.

Quandry

I really, truly dislike a lot of people. I dislike a lot of them for very good reasons and I dislike a lot of them just because. Here's the problem. A lot of the people I "dislike" I actually have a good time with. I don't like them on principal. Most often because of the way they live their life or things they've done to me or a loved on in the past. However, once in a blue moon where something comes along that forces me to interact with them I have a grand ole time. I don't like this one bit! It makes me all crazy wormy and completely goes against everything I believe in. I don't want to enjoy these people's company!! I want to hate them! I want to ignore! I don't want to give them the satisfaction of thinking it's ok to be the kind of person that they are. They shoudl be treated like a leper! I feel like such a hypocrite (again with this, I know), but I've found that I need to put an end to this. I need to either learn to LET IT GO and just love people at face value or stop being such a damn hypocrite. Where is the line? Can you have great friends that you really disrespect? Can you spend time with family members that have caused you great pain, but still really enjoy their company? I suppose in a lot of cases I'm not always hating the person, but hating what they represent. That still makes me wormy though. It doesn't seem right. Does everyone go through this? Is this why we gossip? Do we vent about friends and family to other friends and family so we can go on enjoying what pleasure they do bring into our lives? Is that fair? Is it just human nature? I know I do plenty of my share of this and I know I give just about everyone I know plenty of things to vent about as well. And really if it's true I suppose I don't have anything to bitch about, right?

A Perfect Storm

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We got the first call at approximately 11:30 on Wednesday, July 15, 2009. It was Jackie. She was drunk and asked Shawn what was this business about Brian having cancer. Cancer? Brian doesn't have cancer. He told her as much and hung up. A minute later we got the second call. It was Brian. He was drunk. Brian said to Shawn, "you said I had cancer". Shawn said, "no I didn't, you're fine, Brian". Brian said something to the effect that he was dying and Shawn said, "you don't have cancer, I will call you in the morning". We talked about that conversation briefly. We discussed how drunk Brian sounded and wondered what the hell all the talk about cancer was. We also talked about how we were afraid he'd end up hurt and Shawn's work would be calling.

On Thursday July 16, 2009 we got the last call. I answered. It was Shawn's supervisor, Tim. He said, very firmly, "Mrs. Bolen this is Tim from MetroHealth I need to speak to Shawn immediately". My first thought was that something had gone wrong and they needed Shawn to come in or that Shawn had done something wrong and maybe he was getting a tongue lashing. LOL Those were my worst fears at the time. In retrospect either of those would have been a better scenario. Right away Shawn's voice took on that tone that only happens a few times in a person's life. Despair, shock, desperation. My heart fell into my stomach and I knew someone died. I started flinging on clothes in anticipation that we'd be leaving the second he got off the phone. He hung up. He said that it was Brian and he was dying. They were coding him and he wasn't going to make it. I threw the baby monitor in the girls' room and told them Uncle Brian was hurt and we were going to the hospital. I drove as fast as I could without crashing. Shawn was afraid that he would be dead by the time we got there. We were met by Tim who explained that Brian had hanged himself. Tim said EMS was called by Jackie and they broke down the door and started working him right away. They worked him all the way to the hospital and the ER took over. He was shocked and then given epinephrine. That got his heart going again. We went into room 5 and there was Brian. Just like you see on tv. All the tubes, the collar, the vent going and Brian there, but not really there. The rest of the day was a blur. Phone calls were made, people arrived, but pretty much right from the start we knew Brian had no hope. Gift of Life was called and the decision to share whatever organs and tissues he had available was made. Most of the day was spent in the hospital. After the hospital Shawn and I stopped at Brian's house to check on the cats and our eyes were opened. Brian was living in a heap of depression that nobody knew the depths of. Going into the house was soul-shaking for Shawn, but it was good that it happened. Two things happened in that house in the last 3 years of Brian's life. The first was that he had never really laid Kelly to rest. Her cosmetics were still in the house, the office was still as she kept it and her dirty laundry was still in the hamper. The second thing is that Brian managed to destroy the house. Putting together the pieces we can see that initially Brian stayed in his bedroom upstairs. He then abandoned that area of the house. Brian moved to the basement. A wonderful area that they had built together that was comfortable, but again probably reminded Brian a lot of Kelly. That was in 2007. By 2008 he had moved to the first floor bedroom to what had once been the guest room. It appears he spent a good deal of time here, evidenced by the myriad of candy wrappers and the dates on the mail in the room. I'm not sure how long he stayed in this room, but the last few months at the least were spent in the living room. He had shoved some furniture around, but was clearly spending most of his time in this room. As Brian left each area of the house he left behind a trail of chaos. I pulled 3 trashbags of junkmail out of the basement alone. It was clear how angry Brian was. Hell Brian has been angry as long as I've known him, but his house took a large brunt of the pain the last few years. Holes in walls and cupboards, broken items and neglected pets surrounded him. Combine that with the constant reminder of his former life (in which he wasn't happy in either, but better), massive amounts of alcohol, issues from childhood, and an incredible amount of debt and you can understand how someone can get to the lowest point in their life. After stopping home, checking on kids and babysitting situations we went back to the hospital. Our pastor Fred Wooden arrived to be by our side and provide comfort. We had to work on filling out paperwork for Medicaid, in hopes of getting Brian's medical bills paid and they were going to officially pronounce him after completing all of the neurological exams. They performed the neurological exams and as expected there was no response whatsoever. At 17:20 on July 16, 2009 my husband's baby brother was pronounced dead. Now if you know me, you know I hesitate when it comes to religion. I don't feel comfortable around overly religious people and I constantly question my own faith. I thought I would feel uncomfortable with Fred there and when he asked if I wanted him to pray I said I wasn't sure. I waited to ask Shawn and Fred was able to say a prayer for Brian. How and why that was comforting I can't explain, but he said the right words and he never made me (or anyone else that I know) feel like they couldn't speak to him like a human being. I've never experience that before. We all knew that Brian was gone, but making it official was another blow to absorb. They didn't take him off the machines, so while he was gone, he still seemed "there". He was left on the machines for the organ donation. They must observe the body for 24 hours to make sure there is no major failure and all the organs can make it through the donation. They were able to find recipients for Brian's kidneys, his liver and a portion of his lungs went to a cystic fibrosis patient in an experimental therapy. (*p.s. make sure your family knows to donate your organs, people!) I don't really remember Thursday once we got back home I know we spent it with family and didn't get much sleep that night.

On Friday July 17, 2009 Shawn needed to go to Brian's house. We did a ton of work there. Changed locks, cleaned things out, moved things around and did what we all wanted to do nearly three years ago. We spent the entire day there. Around 4:00 Shawn and I headed back up to the hospital. Brian was gone, but his body was still breathing and his heart was still pumping. He looked a lot different from the day before. His body was filling with fluids that his kidneys could not keep up with and the blood wasn't not circulating, as a normal person's does, to his extremities. His hands already looked lifeless. It was much easier to touch his shoulders, head and neck because they still felt a part of him. We stayed til just before they were going to procure his organs and again we absorbed another blow. We were blessed with very supportive family that took care of our children while Shawn was tending to Brian and I was tending to Shawn. We got home and Aunt Mary offered to take the children back to her house for the night. The children provide us with a sense of normalcy, but we both needed this night to let loose. I don't remember a lot of it, but I know it involved a bottle+ of wine for me and an evening with family and friends that all loved Brian. Sad. The man who thinks he is so alone in this world has a whole heap of people grieving for him.
Saturday July 18, the women pulled together and worked our asses off in Brian's house, while the guys wandered around aimlessly. They were all so stunned and shaken and it was clear they were in no mood to work, just reminisce. This was how the entire day was spent and ended with another late night at our home.

Sunday July 19, we all met up at the funeral home to plan Brian's funeral. So fricken weird to do that. I've never done that before. It is so matter of fact. We were hoping to do it as low cost and with Brian in mind. Part of it got off track. Some insisted on having a luncheon directly afterward. I think the majority of us thought it was a waste of resources, but others feel the need to show off and make it all about them and not what is in the best interest of other people or keeping Brian in mind. However, I suppose you can't change a leopard's spots and even after losing a child their first priority is still themselves. We decided to also have a wake at our home for those who couldn't attend the funeral and to celebrate in true Brian fashion. A lot of discussion was had and it was very obvious who those true to Brian were. Monday, July 20 I went back to work. It hurt like hell, but the guilt of not being at work and worrying about others picking up my slack overwhelmed me so came in. I don't think I got too much accomplished, but I was here for a short while. In the afternoon we met with Fred as a family since he was going to be performing Brian's service. There was a lot of learning about Brian. I think his parents are still clueless about Brian and Brian's pain and angst. A lot was discussed about how Brian was a tormented person. I think some want to believe it was Kelly's death that brought this upon us, but truthfully Brian has been hurting years. Brian had issues with his parents that he never addressed, he had incidents as a child that he never processed or was able to heal from and those in combination with a whirlwind lifestyle and alcohol led him to try to end his life prior to Kelly's death. At that time, Kelly found him and saved him from himself. Brian was soft inside and took to heart so many things that a lot of people shrug off. Hearing his parents talk, they talked about the most proud moments in Brian's life being related to playing soccer. I think Brian knew that people envied and admired him when he played soccer. When he couldn't continue that I'm guessing he felt like a failure. He felt the constant need to impress people and it is very clear why he felt that way. I think he needed affirmations constantly because he never felt it himself. We all learned a lot about Brian in that session and I think it is a lot more clear to some of us why Brian felt the way he did about himself.

July 21, 2009 was the viewing and the 3 year anniversary of Kelly's death. I was supposed to go to work, but Shawn asked me to stay home. That's all I needed to hear, I'm staying with my family. We went to breakfast as a big group of family and friends and prepared for the viewing. Prior to the viewing I had thought that I should bring Kelly's ashes along for her family. I figured nobody in our family would want/need those anymore so it was best to give them to someone who would care about them. There was talk about mixing some of I don't think anyone else really wanted to deal with that so I figured I'd take some of Kelly out and put her in a container until they decide to do whatever they want with Brian's. Ok it's not a huge deal, but still made me a little wormy messing with someone's ashes. Not a big deal, I can handle this right? Well I open the top of the bag and some of Kelly falls onto the counter. I'm getting sweaty and the heart starts pumping a little bit. I keep saying to mysef, "not a big deal, right? Allison is standing there watching me and just mumbles, "if you say so” and walks out. I decide to move Kelly to the floor cause yeah it's not a huge deal, but I can completely go without having dead body ashes on the counter we prepare meals on. Well somehow the bag had been split open. I picked it up and Kelly spills all over the floor and I'm consumed in a plume of ashes. O.M.F.G.I was high pitched by this point and frantic about what I should do. I felt all light headed and faint. I had two voices going in my head. One of them telling me to get my shit together cause it's not a big deal and the other one telling me that I just inhaled my dead sister-in-law and I'm going to be haunted by her forever. I had no clue what to do. I immediately thought I should run for the vacuum. I wanted to hurry and get this up off the floor before someone walks by and either laughs hysterically at me or I completely freak them out. I started to get the vacuum bag and then thought handing Kelly over in a Kenmore Upright bag with dog hair wasn't the most appropriate thing I could do. People were starting to wander my way and I was totally sweating my ass off. So I go to grab a plastic bag. Meijer didn't seem appropriate, but ok Kelly liked Target. Target is ok! So the part of Kelly that is going to her mother is in a Target bag and the portion that will be shared with Brian is kept in a raspberry sorbet container. *shrug* Was I supposed to use good plastic ware? Sounds crass, but hell I'd like to know how someone else would have handled that. That is definitely a task I can do without again. Hopefully it isn't toxic. If I start buying my clothes at Banana Republic, carrying a Coach purse and drinking Corona, someone better damn well intervene and get me an exorcism ASAP! .The afternoon viewing was hard, as expected. Just having to watch Shawn walk through the doors of the funeral home knowing his brother was in there is heart shattering on its own. I was so irritated that they didn't do his hair. It was a disheveled mess and I contemplated a few times trying to fix it, but knowing my luck I'd have knocked the whole casket over or something. Shawn's half sister did a great job of putting together a collage of pictures so at least that was distracting and brought back many fond memories for many people. We headed back home to compose ourselves, eat a meal and bring the kids back down. Life at home meanwhile was chaos, babysitters in and out, people dropping off food and kids doing whatever they can to misbehave.

The second viewing was a lot busier. People from all over heck showed. Even one of Shawn's ex girlfriends. (talk about dodging that bullet!) It was very obvious there were a lot of loving hearts in that room. Not only for Brian, but there to give love and support to Brian's loved ones. I felt very numb during both of these. I felt like I was all cried out or that it wasn't my place to be crying, but I just felt robotic. I couldn't concentrate on talking to people. I was too worried about Shawn and watching my 2 year old knock over flower displays. The time flew by and before it we were home in bed, wondering what we could have done different to avoid the position we were in.

July 22nd, 2009 was the day of Brian's funeral. How did we get here? What could I have done differently? I saw all the signs, the writing was on the wall, I know he needed to stop drinking, STOP, not slow down, STOP, but who am I? I'm not his wife, or his sister. Hell I tried to get his life on track when he lived with us for a couple months in 2006. He didn't want my help or Shawn's. Was I supposed to push harder in fear of alienating him? Would he be alive today? Hell if I know, but it's human nature to question those things, isn't it? When we'd ask how he was he'd flat out lie. We didn't know he had wasted over $250,000 or that he was drinking himself into a stupor every single day. We didn't know that he and his girlfriend had broken up. He felt abandoned once again. We didn't know any of this stuff until we were able to have a glimpse into his life. Even Shawn who spent a lot of time with Brian in June didn't have a clue. He wasn't allowed in most areas of the house, he didn't know the way Brian was living. Brian told him his money was fine. Brian didn't drink much around Shawn those days, everything was ok on the surface. The funeral was miserable and wonderful all at the same time. A wonderful photo montage was put together and it was perfectly Brian. It was all about Brian and so appropriate. Our pastor took the information we had given him two days earlier and put it together in a fashion that told the truth about a tormented soul, but also brought together the wonderful aspects of Brian. It painted a very clear picture of his life. Through a lot of the service we were laughing and crying at the same time. Fred said when one is laughing and crying at the same they are experiencing such strong, wonderful memories that it creates this blissful moment. He compared it to when it rains and shines at the same time and it creates a rainbow. He said that those moments are our rainbows in life. It was a very cool comparison. After the funeral we stopped briefly at the luncheon and let the kids eat and then headed home to prep the house for the crowd later. On the way home, sure enough it started raining and shining. I am sure we weren't the only ones searching for the Brian Rainbow, but it wasn't there. Approximately 50 people came back to our house for an evening of celebrating Brian. There were a lot of memories being shared and despite the torrential downpour we were doused in and the leak inside the house it went over fine. Just after the majority of the crowd arrived and we had the canopy set up the rain stopped. The clouds parted and then as we were all outside as a group, sopping wet,sharing laughs and tears about Brian we got our rainbow. Holy shit. Talk about emotional moment. The evening ended with fireworks and people sleeping on our living room floor.

You'd think after that hellish week we'd be done with everything. Not even close. After everyone left it felt like we're starting all over, but more alone and less distraction. It makes things harder. You have to go on like things are normal, but they’re not really. Every day is still consumed with Brian. Thinking of him, trying to work our way through his shit, making sure his funeral expenses are taken care of, and even taking in his cat. I'm not quit sure how long it takes to get back to life as we knew it and create a new normal. It can't happen fast enough, not because of my angst and pain, but because I'm watching my husband suffer through what will hopefully be the biggest loss of his life. He felt responsibility for Brian. He felt like a father figure to him and I know Brian felt the same of Shawn. He told me time and time again that Shawn was more a father to him. I know he loved Shawn and I don't think he wanted to put this burden on him, but I think the lifestyle he was living in, the inability to deal with his past, the overwhelming debt he had accumulated and enough alcohol to drown a donkey was the perfect storm. I know he was thinking of Shawn on that shitty day. He took the time to call him and he was wearing the silly Detroit Lions bracelet Shawn had given him a few years ago. I know those things haunt Shawn, but hopefully someday he will realize that he was the most important person in Brian's life. Brian was a grown man, making grown man decisions and nobody could have saved Brian from himself.

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There are a lot of things I’ve learned this week. I don’t need near as much sleep or food to function as I think I do. Going a day or two without a real meal isn’t going to kill me. Getting up and going to work after only being asleep 2 hours makes for a cruddy day, but it’s not the end of the world. I’m alive to see the day. The entire time I kept wondering why I wasn’t getting irritated by all the millions of things that usually drive me insane. I let a lot of things go. I can let things go, life goes on and it’s all ok in the end. I don’t need all sorts of shit. Meaningless gifts, clutter and hanging on to silly items that don’t mean a thing all boil down to a big heap of shit. The photos and memories of life are sure as hell a lot more priceless than any doodad or thingamajig that someone could give me. In the end someone is going to sort through all my shit and wonder why the hell I had this or that, why make the job harder for them? I’ve always known that DNA doesn’t make family, the heart does and again that was reinforced. There are people that Shawn and I share DNA with that I could go a lifetime without seeing again, but there are others who are in our life that we treasure every moment with. Those people may not share genetics with us, but they are our family none the less.

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I suppose I’ve gone on long enough. I’m hoping by typing this novel and spewing forth all the bullshit running through my brain that I can leave a little of it behind.