Catch up – 2001

Categories: catching up

So much has happened in just a year’s time. I can’t see how that is an alien thing. A year is a long time. Today’s date is June 9th. I am 27 years old at this time. And so much has happened that I don’t know where to begin . So much that I find it amazing that I didn’t write in my journal to keep me sane. Or maybe I didn’t write in my journal to protect myself from the horror of all the things that have happened. So I could live in denial.

The first horrorific thing that has happened to me was that on August 8th, after 5 grueling horrifying months in the hospital, my dear sweet little granny passed on from this world. Just thinking of it now still makes me want to start crying. I’m confident she’s in a good place though. She’s visited me in dreams many a time and she looks great… happy and younger… She’s told me not to cry and that she’s okay. I’ve even gone to see her new apartment. Which is beautiful. But it still hurts. I urge to call her sometimes… but I can’t… ask her questions about the past… but I can’t… I just miss her. She’s the first real person so close to me to die. And I hated it. I had to do the program for her funeral… had to speak at her wake… I had to gaze upon her body… all altered by the morticians… The whole experience was horrific. And I MISS HER.. which is the most terrible thing of it all.

Then… on September 11th, there was a full scale terrorist attack on New York City and Washington DC. On September 11th morning, as I was getting divafied to go see a play that evening after work with my Line sisters, I tried to find my strapless bra so I could really be the bomb. And I couldn’t find it. It was taking me longer than it should have. So I was looking for it under my bed (which is when I felt the first pricklings in my knee which would subsequently lead to my first knee surgery in November). I didn’t find it, but I resolved to wear my jacket all day so that no one would see the straps on my bra. I sat down on the bed as I had just finished slipping on my killer sex-me boots…. When I turned my attention to NY1 and they were showing a picture of the World Trade Center. And one of the towers was smoking. And I remember vividly, the newscaster saying “We’re looking at what appears to be a fire atop one of the Trade Center buildings”.

From there it was an excruciating and nightmarish few hours which extended in to days and into months. Some radical terrorists hijacked 8 planes and commenced to crashing them into buildings… one into each world trade building, one in to the pentagon…. One which the gov’t shot down before they could get to their destination and of course we know not where the other 4 are… they’ve hidden that quite well from us. It’s been an onslaught of politics and horrible actions by our government, the terrorists, the Isrealis, the Pakistanis, the Indians…. Just everyone. We’re on the brink of a war and methinks that we’re on the brink of destroying ourselves all together. More on that in another journal entry.

A few weeks ago (two weeks ago)… I found out that Mishia Pickens, dear friend and sands of Maxine died in a car accident on her way back from a family reunion. She was 31, single… unmarried, no kids. And a GREAT, PHENOMENAL person. I’m so blessed to have known her AT ALL.

And even though I can’t find the strength to go through everything right now, I am miserable. I am thoroughly miserable. I don’t know whether I want live or die. I’m just disgusted with life… I don’t understand what I’m doing here… I don’t know what it all means. I’ve been in this funk for so long. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m tired of always being sad… I’m tired of feeling like I’m spinning my wheels. I’m 27 and I haven’t done anything with my life. I’m still single… I still have no kids… I STILL live with my mom and dad… I’m still where I was YEARS ago… and I can’t get out of it. And I’m slouching around and hanging my head to day because I can’t take it. I’m just so tired. And now I’m sleepy… so I’m going to bed. I’ll write more tomorrow… I promise. I have to start writing more so that maybe I can stop feeling like I’m dying every day.



    Leave a Reply