Ever Again?

I know I said I wouldn’t only write about this, but since the counseling center is closed and I feel like I’m about to burst, you get it again.
Today is supposed to be a good day.
Today is Scout’s first birthday, something I’ve been ridiculously excited about even though she doesn’t have a clue. I’ve never had a pet that was mine and Scout has been so great for us. I love that fluff ball more than I thought possible.
Mr. A is taking me to a movie in a bit. I’m making fruit pizza this afternoon. We have a day off together.
Yet, I’ve been on the brink of a breakdown since I woke up. Shit, I even slept all night which is something I haven’t done in months and last week I probably only got 4 hours of interrupted sleep each night, terrified that my migraine medicine dreams would take a terrifying turn.
I’m mad as hell. I’m angrier than I’ve ever been. And it scares me bc I’m not walking around, scowling at the world.
It’s bubbling underneath and it pops up out of no where.
I always hated when people said that taking your own life was selfish. I believed that they must have been in a place of such pain and despair that they saw no other option. But this was planned out. Every detail and the timing and she had to have been planning this for months. She planne this for months and never considered that she was goin to completely fuck up her 22 year old daughter’s life? She was going to make my dad have nightmares from finding his wife dead in a house that he built and loves? That the rest of us would be affected in ways no one can imagine until they’re thrown into the middle of this nightmare?
Oh, did I mention it was in MY old bedroom??? Yeah. Won’t be sleeping there ever again.
It was selfish. It was.
She got to say goodbye to most people by seeing friends two days before and other encounters we now realize was her chance to say bye.
Her final goodbye to my dad? Nothing. Him finding her. Him dealing with police and the coroner alone. Him so worried about his stepdaughter that he hasn’t even had a chance to mourn or cry or scream or stare at a wall.
I’m mad. I’ve been mad. I’m heartbroken for my dad. I feel guilty that I didn’t drop everything to stay home. I feel guilty about the other thoughts and feelings that I can’t seem to get away from.
I laugh at a joke or listen to happy stories and I feel guilty.
Am I ever going to feel “normal” again? Am I ever going to be able to laugh without feeling guilty for being happy? It does t feel like it.
I will forever have this cloud around me. I know my friends are walking on eggshells. They don’t know what to say or how to act around me. I’ll always be the girl whose stepmom killed herself. I don’t want that to be a descriptor of me. I want to rewind by two weeks and this to never have happened.
What’s worse is that I know if I’m feeling like this, I any imagine what dad and stepsister are going through.
Fuck.
That’s the only word at this point that even comes close to describing this whole situation.
So, from the bottom of y heart, please have some extra fun today because I know I’ll be faking every laugh, and if it is real, it will be followed by pain. If I can’t enjoy today, I want everyone else to. No one should have to deal with this. No one.