I feel like I’m in a confessional. Forgive me Father.
I also feel like a broken record. I keep posting and apologizing for not posting. I’m thinking to reformat how I do this. I’m coming up on my 5 year CrossFit anniversary in a few months, and keeping track of my daily WODs… well, it’s really cool. But I suck at managing something that only feels like an obligation right now.
I’ve gone through so much in the last few weeks. A fast track to Hell and back. It wasn’t my Hell though, it was my Mom’s. I need to stop and spend some time and really devote a few hours to writing and updating this. So I can put it all in writing and give the story the time it deserves.
I am still here. I am still working crazy hours. I am still going to the gym. I just got home from spending a few weeks up north with my Mom and John. I am trying to find and establish my new normal. Trying to juggle my emotions from dealing with death and dying, to acting happy with customers, pretending like I care about what is seemingly now mundane bullshit. Trying to be healthy again. Trying to re-establish healthy choices. Trying to just be happy and content. Holy fuck. Trying to be happy.
When I see people I normally would have engaged in light-hearted conversations with, I turn and walk the other way. I don’t want to deal with it. I don’t want to deal with small talk or chit chat. I don’t want to be asked if I’m okay, or how are you holding up….? With big doe eyes. I’m fine. The reality is, all this small talk and chit chat doesn’t matter to me. And I’m tired of wasting my time on shit that doesn’t matter.
I just want to be alone, and work, and work out. And get shit done. I’m fine. I’m tired of crying, I’m tired of recanting the story, the series of events, the days, leading up to John’s passing.
I don’t want to argue about dimensions, or debate with customers about where their package is (thanks UPS…) The phone rings, and I cringe. The front door to the office opens and closes and I lock myself in my office, and hope that one of the boys deals with the in flux foot traffic.
I feel like this has been part of the real me all along, except I’m even more straightforward than ever before. Fake it til you make it? I don’t really care. Not right now, anyway. Maybe it’s just a phase. Maybe I’ll want to open up to people again, but right now, the only person who understands me is my Mom, and vice versa. If I’m not talking to, or spending time with my mom, then I just want to be alone. Please.