Vulgar Saturday

Despite feeling like shit because of a cold, i spent most of the weekend with my two tias. Tia Emilia was staying at tia Beatriz's since Tuesday, i think, and i basically saw them every day since Wednesday. Oh except for Friday, when they went on a day trip to Atlantic City and i saw "The Expendables" after work with G & S.

On Saturday evening, tia and i went to 34th street for some home shopping and poor tia was very strong despite the pain in her feet. Her stamina is just ridiculous. By the time she was trying on sandals at Macy's it was nearly 9:30 and her feet were so swollen that it made buying shoes an impossible task.

We popped into the Manhattan mall for a bit to sit down and rest and then i took tia down to JC Penny to use the bathroom and because she'd never seen it before.
So when we went down there, we walked right through...the coat section. Winter coats. Yes, they're back. Yes, it's the middle of August but i'm already used to this.
As soon as i saw them my first thought was, "fuckers! There you are again." And i laughed. To think that a year has passed since i struggled with missing doing coat shopping with mom. It was a stark reminder of another sucky fall and winter without her. I laughed, not sure why it struck me as humorous. But at least i laughed. At Macy's, i had a lot of "i hate you" reactions to the different departments or merchandise. Lots of stuff mom would have liked.
I had lots of moments of anger, like when walking through the newly opened Lincoln Center underpass. So much stuff my mom should have been able to see, should be able to see today but she's not here.
And then i remember how fucking mad i am that she died.
So yeah, a lot of cursing going on, under my breath and in my mind.

It's 80 degrees right now but there was such a nice, balmy breeze blowing as i walked home from the A train that it felt perfect. Nights like this remind of my mom, how she loved to walk or sit in the park on breezy, warm nights. How i turned her down so many times when she'd ask me to go with her.

I'm ready to leave this place. I don't want any more of these memories. I want to start fresh, somewhere new where everywhere i look breaks my heart.
Dr H says that if i was happy in a particular moment then that gives me reason to believe that i can be happy again.
It's very easy to get discouraged but just ackowledge that you're discouraged and move on to the next thing.

Yesterday i had a lot more energy despite having slept only about 3 hours, on and off.
I did have moments during the day when i felt sleepy and tired but then they would go away and i'd feel alert and even slightly hyper. I was more awake than i imagined i could be.
I did have a couple of cups of caffeinated tea but mostly green tea and other naturally caffeinated stuff from that new tea brand i bought. Maybe even the slight caffeine contributed to making me less sleepy.

I stayed at work with Erika until about 8:40 or so, or maybe closer to 9. Trying to finish refunds and transfers. I got home and ate a couple of waffles with Nutella. Drank tea. Took my Zycam. I've been battling this sore throat since about Tuesday, i felt super crappy when i saw Dr. H. It hurt so much on Wednesday and on Thursday my whole body ached and i felt awful. I spent the evening at tia's and the A/C in her room made me worse. I fell asleep for about an hour and woke up coughing, with painful congestion in my chest. I got up and made tea for tia and me, added lemon and honey and that helped a whole bunch. Since then i've been doing RC and Thieves on the soles of my feet and RC on my neck and chest, plus some vitamin C but i've actually been forgetting to take it.

So, anyway, i woke up this morning at around 7:35 and proceeded to get up. I was surprised. I think i went to bed at around 11:30 or 12. No idea actually. But i really thought that with all the sleep deprivation that i've had this week i would have slept really late. Last Saturday i woke up and went back to sleep and then woke up at 2:30pm. But i had also exhausted myself the night before from walking in not the best walking shoes.

It's 10:21 now. I'm about to eat the eggs and waffle i made for breakfast. I spent about a half hour organizing my months' worth of recyclables that i've never thrown out so that was good.

I'm actually astounded at the amount of energy and motivation i feel right now. Physically i'm a bit tired. But mentally it's different. I don't want to let myself waste the day. This hasn't happened in moooooooooonths.
Good sign.

Progress not perfection. Take things one step at a time. Celebrate the mini-triumphs, the small accomplishments.
My mom would want me to be happy but not just happy, to be successful and content and to improve.

New template design and color! Blogger offered it so i thought, why not?

Been having good dreams lately. Not exactly every night in a row, but some good dreams this week. I still dream consistently with my mother. I have to find her each morning, search my memories for the dream in which she appeared the night before.

Last night we were by a pool and i gave her some dollar bills to go buy some cookies or something. Oh, i think i gave her $6. We might have been on vacation. Maxi was there. And a girl who looked like a more grown up teenage version of Athena. But she was actually a snotty, manipulative, deceitful girl who i was hosting and i needed to be careful to not be manipulated by her. Weird and disturbing. But mom was fine in the dream. Funny part came later when i was in some kind of competition/test of will and Nigel Lythgoe from So You Think You Can Dance was shouting directions at me and i ended up telling someone that he had coached me through my task. He gave me hints about how to face my challenge. I was picking up what looked like straps of leather with two giant sticks. Kind of like a pair of giant chopsticks and giant noodles. But they were also like stilts. At Nigel's nudging, i stood on them like i would on stilts and hopped about, using my feet to push the pieces of leather or whatever pieces of dark brown stuff over to wherever i need to push them. It was like sweeping with stilts. And Nigel said to me at some point that everybody there had their own different challenge, designed for each individual. I recounted to a colleague or neighbor there that Nigel had told me mine was focus or attention or something like that but i couldn't remember because i wasn't paying attention at the time. And we laughed. But i think it was focus or determination.

I dreamt that my mom and i hung out in the city the way Georgia and i hang out sometimes. Just window shopping and eating. And i told her that i had been trying to improve my posture and i showed her and she looked and said, yeah it is improving. And that made me so happy. I even woke up happy that she had noticed.

Earlier in the week i dreamt that i was at a wake or gathering after Colombia's death, at Petri's apartment, and my mom was there and she read or said something poignant and Petri was moved and grateful. It was a moment where i didn't know if my mom would embarrass herself or be ridiculed by everyone there, but she ended up being profound and touching. It was a somber moment and situation in general, but my mom's peacefulness and wisdom were so strong and present. I remember sitting next to her on the couch as she spoke aloud and everyone listened. I can't remember what she said.

Sunday was horrible, crying until 4am. Monday i was exhausted but even-keeled (thankfully too tired to even think). Tuesday was better, even slightly chipper. Today was okay, tired again, but not horrible.

I need to get Sandy's beak trimmed. She's been biting me and making me bleed. I tried to trim it and...that was a disaster and failure. And bloody for me.

Can't sleep. When i lie down i think too much and see too many bad things. I need to turn off my mind.

I saw a reading of Jesse's play, "Clutter," today. It was really great. I enjoyed it and would love to see it performed fully on stage, with sets and costumes and lighting. I wish, would love, hope to be able to write something about my life experience with my mom. Maybe poetry, maybe a play.

Today is a good day. Well, so good so far.
Yesterday was a baaaaaaaaaaaaad day.

It remains unpredictable. But so far the bad days are closely followed by good days, so i think something is still working. I'm not completely out of order.

Today something sparked my memory and i decided to look up Father Luigi on Google. I was really surprised to find some youtube videos of him being interviewed on Brazilian tv about some Catholic stuff. He's the director of a university, a different position than when he last visited here in 1994. It was great to hear his voice again, so familiar and comforting. Meeting and knowing him was a highlight in my life. But it really hurt me that i'm not able to show my mom the videos. I wish so much that she could be here. Who else can i share this with? Who really knows what this means to me?

He's a part of my past like she's a part of my past. Good times in the past. Never to be regained.

Every day that i leave my apartment i start anticipating the moment i can go back home. While i'm at work, i can't wait until i get back home. Sometimes i go shopping at the end because it provides a comfort that i don't find anywhere else, but my favorite place, or maybe the place i need the most, is my bedroom.

I joined a great Facebook group called "please don't jump" in response to a postsecret.com message about someone who was planning to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge this summer. I found a link on ONTD of all places, and i'm so glad that i did. There are many inspirational and loving messages posted on the wall of the group.

One of them was a link to a Facundo Cabral youtube video. I'd forgotten how much i love his words. And of course i remember that my mom loved him. We both enjoyed his songs and the wise words we'd hear him say on television. I wish i'd gotten a chance to take her to see him.

I stayed home from work yesterday because i hurt my back. I slept for about 6 hours during the day. When i woke up i remembered various dreams i'd had with my mom. They were actually good, comfortable, happy dreams (not the nightmares i had last week) and it hurt me more than usual to wake up from them. Sometimes i wake up happy that i dreamt with her. Sometimes, like yesterday, it sucks to wake up and be in this world in which she's dead.

I bought a beautiful journal when i went to the ICFF with Jes in May. It's a book of blank pages, except all the pages have photographs of walls on them. They look like NYC walls. So it's like your own personal graffitti canvas. So far i've only written a couple of things in there. But i just sat here and looked through the whole book. It's amazing how blank, bare walls with only the pattern of the bricks or paint can tell entire stories. Almost all of those walls look familiar to me. And they each trigger a movie in my head, of my mother and me in the city. Lots of images come from photographs i've seen. Also from stories i've made up in my head based on stories i was told about photographs i've seen.

I'm having trouble not living in the past. Dr. H asked me if it's possible for the present and the past to co-exist, or to reach a kind of harmony. I said the answer was no.

I think i can live in the present and there are many things every day that draw my attention and engage my brain and heart. But my soul also keeps pulling back into the past. Like i don't deserve to live in the future. Like it's my duty to stay in the past.

I have to fight to stop not caring.

I wonder when i stopped caring. Maybe high school. 8th grade? I gotta think about that.

Keeping track

Friday: Baaaaaaaad morning (uncontrollable crying at work) turns out okay later in the day. Enough distraction and i put that fire out. Ate A LOT. Partly for binging purposes, partly because i was hungry.

Saturday: Fine. Slightly focused but not intense. Trying to update my budget and make sure to eat and keep hydrated.