myOtaku.com: X Shadowme X

myO Still <3's You

Vitals

Birthday
• 1993-05-02
Gender
• Female
Location
• Here
Member Since
• 2005-05-30
Occupation
• Life preserver :)
Real Name
• Belina

Personal

Achievements
• http://i204.photobucket.com/albums/bb281/Soul_Resistance/Untitled.jpg... Nuff said
Anime Fan Since
• Ever since Pokemon
Favorite Anime
• I'm not that obsessed anymore, to be honest. Mostly just Kare Kano, Ceres, Furuba, Ouran Highschool Hostclub, FMA, and, of course, ShinChan. X3
Goals
• Make it out of here in one piece
Hobbies
• Paranoia, mood swings, and the occasional emotional meltdown
Talents
• :)

myOtaku.com: X Shadowme X

Tuesday, September 1, 2020

um
My grandma died last Monday. My mom's mother. She was 98 years old. I have been drifting between heavyness, horniness, and euphoria ever since.

Her body was on it's back. Her mouth was open, tongue out and purple at the end. Her eyes were half-closed and glazed, the blue taking over the whites of her eyes.

The last time I saw her alive, maybe half an hour before, she was laying on her side, smiling at my goddaughter, her great granddaughter. Little Livvie traipsed into the room, all smiles and hellos. She held my grandmas hand and my grandma just smiled at her. Nothing could make her smile like a baby or someone close to one.

I was sent downstairs to play with my goddaughter and her older brother. My baby sister Val joined us. Livvie and I settled in for a round of Minecraft. Val logged Owen on to the computer. Half an hour into lollygagging with Livvie, building a treehouse of spruce wood and magenta carpet, Val leans down and murmurs the words. "She's dead."
I repeated it and she told me to be quiet. The kids weren't meant to know yet.
Val watched the kids while I went to look.

My mind blanked as I saw her. I leaned down and kissed her forehead. My mother and aunt sat beside her, teary-eyed. My aunt was on the phone. The doctor was on his way to pronounce her dead. Numbers are discussed. "Did she go at 5:30? Right on the dot? Wow."

My mind stayed blank as I walked back downstairs to relieve Val. Then, I imagined calling my old fling. I imagined my ex. I imagined my ex arriving to the house and me collapsing in his arms, our bodies pressed together. Never again.

I sat back down and took up my controller. Livvie chattered away. After a while, I asked her for a hug.
"I'm sad," I said.
"Why?"
"I miss my friend. He won't talk to me."
"Why?"
"I think he's mad at me."
"Why?"
"I don't know."

But I know.

I should probably explain that my grandmother and I were not close--or were, but not in a good way. She was equal parts saint and bitch, mother and drill sergeant, caretaker and task master. She was complicated. She was a person. She was a person who helped raise me and my siblings.

Ever since I got home from the funeral and from smoking and drinking after the funeral, I've been mourning her and mourning the relationship we never had. We loved each other, but I don't know that we ever liked each other much and part of that is my fault and part of that is no one's fault. I'm just sensitive and she was just... not.
She was tired. She was old.

I hope she's happy. I hope she's laughing and living it up (I still believe in Heaven despite all these past life memories.) She took care of a lot of people in her life. 12 kids, over 20 grandkids, several great grandkids... I can't even tell you how many nieces and nephews.

There's no use trying to go back in time and fix what's passed. There's no point wracking my head over things I did or could have done had I known better, because I didn't know better and even if I did... it's passed. She's passed.

And honestly, the things she told me about myself when I was a kid (stupid, lazy brat) don't really have anything to do with me. Yes, I talked back. Yes, I didn't feel the need to clean every square inch of the house. Yes, I liked to play. But I was seven years old.

Like I said, she was tired when she moved in with my mom and me.

So I'm okay. for the most part. I've cried a few times. Sometimes all I want to do is sleep. Most times all I want to do is sleep.
I have supplemented this desire with eating food and adding basil to everything. True to form, an empty container of yakisoba sits to the left of the laptop as I type this.

I miss my mom. I miss my sisters. I miss my brothers and my father. I basically camped out at their house after everything happened. It was nice. Felt like the old days, before the fights, but better, because instead of egotistical bullshit we all just loved each other. We talked. We made food. We ate food. We drove to the beach. We cried. We held each other.
It was nice and also exhausting. I have a hard time taking care of myself properly when I'm at my mothers house. I throw away all my boundaries. I lean on people too hard and let them lean on me too hard. We all become one big, codependent tribe. Rather, I get needy.
But there's also a symbiosis to it. My mother cares for me and nurtures me. I hold her and listen to her. Not quite an even exchange of energy, but close. The closest I've come to equal throughout my life.

Sometimes I wonder if I've chased men-children so often just to prove to myself that I can be her. But I'm me. I'm still deciding what that means.

Feels as though there's a hole that's been ripped open in the veil, a swirling vortex in the night. Nothing feels secure. Nothing is secure.

Tonight, as I was walking around after class, a dog came bounding over to the gate and barked at me. She wouldn't stop. My first instinct was to back up, but instead I knelt down and smiled at her as she continued to bark. Her owner came out of her house and, grimacing, asked me to move on.

I don't know why the fuck I did that.I don't even like dogs. What the fuck was I trying to prove?

I wanted to feel something besides grief, maybe. Maybe I'm just tired of being afraid. Tired of running.

Maybe that's all sex would be for me right now as well. Running. Validation.
Nevertheless, I've been craving it. Really, not even so much sex, but everything that usually comes with it. Touching. Scents. Body heat. Someone to hold. Something to hold.

Well. Back to therapy.

Hope everyone is okay. If you read this whole thing until the end, good job! Go get yourself an ice cream sandwich.
xxxx
~Belinda Rae

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