I am sitting up, as the hours tick by into the wee ones. My brother and I are now fully ensconced at our dad and stepmother's house. I think we're down to weeks, maybe days with dad. It's amazing to be here, though I feel mired down in a miasma of emotions. Scared, sad, angry, tired, heavy, confused, glib...and I don't want to hear about how some of those aren't actually emotions. It's all just floatin' around in a big pile.
You know what would be the best right now? A boy. Someone waiting downstairs in my bed, just waiting. So when I was finally ready to sleep he would be there, opening his arms and ready to absorb my tears and frustration, hold me, stroke my hair.
I told my friend Colin in Scotland that I wanted it to be him, and, terribly sorry darling Colin, but I'm not sure it's person specific. It's something about the comfort of male energy. About feeling the weight lift for a while and being reminded that I am in my body, and happy there. About the chemicals that are created when skin touches skin.
I am so tired, but the later it gets the more anxious I get about going to sleep and leaving my dad alone in the dark. I hate thinking of him alone and scared and sad in the night. It just breaks my heart. But I do have to work, if only to squeak by. Am trying to keep my financial head above water, and am not doing too badly, but have nothing extra to service any debts, which doesn't free my anxious mind, either. This is a strange time.
I had a nap this afternoon, after work, after nearly falling alseep on the highway. During this nap I dreamed many things.
I dreamed I had a great big male tabby cat that laughed like a human when you rubbed his belly because he was ticklish.
I dreamed my best friend phoned my to say her boyfriend bailed, but I couldn't ascertain from her whether this meant that he left the relationship or jumped off their 21st floor balcony. She wouldn't answer me.
I dreamed that I couldn't stop crying, but that I was dreaming and woke up crying. But I was dreaming that I woke up crying. Like a picture of a television on a television with a picture of a television in the picture....etc.
All through all of these dreams I kept thinking about how my father had died, and I just cried and yelled and cried and cried some more. Even when the cat was laughing.
It was the least restful nap I've ever taken. Plus I slept through my therapy appointment, and that can't be good.
I think this past week has been the most intense of my life. I played in Ellie Harvie's improv show at Yuk Yuk's, first time there, I worked in the day, I saw the Rheostatics three times...two of which were wonderful, the last one I went to I freaked out with tiredness and sadness and left before it got good. I did Theatre Under the Gun, the 48 hour playwrighting festival with my wonderful Stretch Mouth'd Rascals....it was amazing. I want to tell you all about the process and the show, but can't tonight. I just needed to write for a while, and say thank you to you all for your sweet and thoughtful and supportive notes. And let you know I was still here. And still ok. Sad beyond belief....but more on the spiritual learning curve another day.