After studying a few of my Gemini friends, I have changed my mind on them. I like Geminis. I thought I didn’t because I had married one, and we all know how I felt about him. I realize now that yes, he was a Gemini, and a good one and a good person, but he had mental health issues that did not have anything to do with his Gemininess. Those issues ruined his character for me. Godlovehim.
I have grief counseling tomorrow. I have a haircut appointment right before too. Logic: I may be a wreck after counseling, but at least my hair will look fabu! Hahaha. I still want to go to counseling, and I still don’t want to go. I know I’ll be better off by going. I’m going to pack a box of tissues for the car ride home. I wonder if my counselor’s a Gemini…
I have the opportunity to move into a Gemini’s home. I have made a pro/con list about moving to a this new home. I would have more space and room to entertain, a washer and dryer (how convenient!), and could have my crap and Ex’s crap out of storage. It sounds therapeutic getting all my stuff in one house and going through it. I would also have to tend a fire in the winter, and the worst part, move, but that’s only one day. I promised that I wouldn’t move for a year, and that year’s up in a week. I can afford it, but I will be as stretched as I am now financially. I can’t make a damn decision and have almost flipped a coin to decide. I can’t make heads or tails of it. (Insert knee-slap here.) I guess it makes sense to move.
Thank you, Cele, for telling me to walk from this dragged out relationship. I know I need to, but working up the nerve to walk for good takes a lot of courage on my part. I am a Leo, and I should have plenty. I will find it, and let it roar with gentle fierceness. Tomorrow’s his birthday, dammit, and it seems like every time a final decision comes around, the timing sucks. I guess I could stop taking so long to make decisions, but that wouldn’t be like me.
So far tonight I have not washed my dishes, changed my sheets, or cleaned the cat box, but I have stress eaten through numerous healthy and unhealthy but all very satisfying foods. The lightly salted cashews tasted great after the double chocolate muffin. I put away all the clean dishes, hand-washed and dishwasher-washed and danced in the kitchen. Now, I have blogged, and that works wonders for my mental state.
I have to wonder if Ex still communicates from the netherworld with me and Little Guy. He showed up in my dream a couple weeks ago. Yes, it was THAT kind of dream, and he whispered sweet things in my ear. Ever since I went to counseling, Little Guy has not needed to express any dad issues. I read into the dream and Little Guy’s non-dad playing that I’m doing things well handling our grief. I don’t know what to make of it all really. Maybe I’m still looking for Ex’s approval or encouragement or forgiveness when I need to give them to myself.
Without making note of it until I read “The Hour Before Dawn” blog, I noticed that the last image before I go to sleep is still of Ex’s dead body in the woods. It’s about the last thing I want to think about, especially then, but a year-and-a-half plus one day (but who’s counting?), here I am. I hope the image stops resurfacing and I can stop being so fucking mad that he did it. I’m less mad these days but still mad a little, not too much, more than I think. I have reached the point where I just feel cold when I think about it with a little bit of mad. If I had to give it a color, it would be a deep blue, like navy but darker, almost blackish grey-blue. Okay, I’m ready for my mom to come hold me now. Please. Except that it’s snowing, so I would have to go to her, and it’s already 11, so I wouldn’t get there until 1 a.m. Okay. Well, I’ll be okay. I always am. I’m strong like that. I have to go deal with some shit. No really. The cat box stinks.
Without further adieu,
Jenniphur a.k.a. Pro Pooper Scooper