Yeah…still not quite real.

More real than last week, but I feel like I’m in a fog.

I can’t seem to think straight. Or concentrate. Or to function properly.

Students were asking me questions in class today about their paper assignment, that I created, and it was like they were asking me to perform quantum physics on the spot.

I feel scatterbrained. I try to carry on conversations and my thoughts always go back to everything going on. A friend was trying to ask me my opinion about a haircut she was getting and I just couldn’t focus.

Mostly, I just don’t care.

I was so tempted to see if they could find another grad student to finish teaching my class for the summer so I could just stay home with Dad.

But that’s not really feasible. Dad wouldn’t want that. Eventually he will be going back to work and then I would just be sitting at home. Also, we need a paycheck.

I don’t want my life to unravel.

I really don’t want this to define me. I don’t want this to be all people see or think when they walk to me.

Doesn’t help that before I could even realize what I was doing, I told a fellow grad student what happened. I went to school today telling myself that I would just tell people that my stepmom passed away. Unless we were close friends, I wasn’t going to say the real reason. No need for that to be spreading through the halls of the department.

But someone said they were sorry to hear about the death in my family and it fell out of my mouth. And as I was saying it, I was wishing I could just shove the words back into my mouth.

I don’t know why I did it.

Maybe because I haven’t had a chance to say it. To see how the words felt in my mouth. To see how I felt once they were out.

It felt foreign. As if someone else was speaking. It wasn’t my words and it’s not my life.

This didn’t happen to my family.

Mr. A thinks I need to go talk to someone. About her death. About the issues I’ve had with my dad since long before this. How this affects my ability to ever talk to him about those issues without me sounding inconsiderate and selfish. If that’s even a possibility.

I probably need to. I just feel weird walking into the counseling center for some reason. I’ve talked with a therapist in the past, but I had a goal and she provided solutions and options for me to get there. This time? I couldn’t seem to make myself press “send” to call them to make an appointment. Maybe on Thursday. Maybe next week. Who knows.

I promise this isn’t all I’ll write about. There are just some things I need to get out and right now, this is the only safe place I have to say what I want without being interrupted. And strangely, I trust most of you more than other people. Not sure why, but I do.

I’ll get back to silly student stories and posts about Scout and fun weekends.

But for today, and maybe a few more days, I need a place to dump these feelings in hopes that this will help me make sense of all of this.



Filed under A little More About Me, Normal Family?

5 responses to “After

  1. Go. Really. You need a safe, neutral place where someone can help walk you through this. We love you and will be supportive, but it really can’t beat talking to a professional about it. Also, you may want to look into antidepressants to get you over the hump so you can keep functioning.

    • I know you’re right. I just need to call them on Thursday. Just feels strange. I’m always afraid people will think I’m looking for attention or trying to find problems. I know that isn’t the case and some real shit has happened. Just need to call them.

  2. Using a blog to process is just fine, it’s what a lot of us do. I can’t even imagine the layers of grief that were heaped on you to lose your stepmom like that. I think seeing a counselor does sound like a good idea and keeping the details of her death secret might actually be a detriment to you. Set up an appointment just to see what the next steps might be. Take the time and heal. It will never go away but you can start to put the pieces back together.

  3. Never apologize for trying to work something. And as someone who’s been through a serious family crisis, it’s never a bad thing to go to therapy just to get through it.

    I know how it feels to tell yourself you’ll keep it to yourself, but then all of a sudden you hear those words, the real words come out your mouth and you wish you could take them back. Sometimes I feel like they come out of me because I can’t pretend what happened was normal. Like everyone else. “Oh how sad. Sorry.” When really the response deserves the shock it resinates. Because what happened sucks, more than normal. Because it’s painful. More than normal.

    You deserve to feel that. To talk about it. For it to be messy and true and out there.

    Sending thoughts your way.

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