Blah, and more blah

I’m avoiding things tonight. I’ll get started soon. I need to call some clients and arrange some tutoring times for later this week, much against my wishes, but I need to get that going, and really should be working more than I am, but I’m just conscious of how thin I’ve been spread of late and don’t want to fuck up my new job next week. Sigh.

My mother’s creeping into my consciousness again. Her death-day anniversary’s in two weeks, and I always become more aware of her (or the lack of her) around now. The weather that week was just like this – unbearably hot. I remember her dying in the early morning hours, 4:20am, and my going downtown before my intensive classes (her dying wish that I complete them in spite of her death, which I did, at my best) to just lay in my car and cry. I somehow slept a few hours in the shade, and went to SFU. I remember maybe 10 minutes of that day, and very little of the week, except this horrible feeling that I knew my life was changed forever, and what little innocence I’d had had been utterly snuffed.

So, I generally don’t like this time of year. I usually go into a funk. Others, it’s Christmas, etc. Me, it’s now. But I’m already in a funk, so I simply am becoming more aware of thoughts, is all.

And now I’m without a crutch. I ran out of dope. I could order more in a flash right now and have it delivered within the evening, but I’m really going to fight it. I have a lot I need to do, and even if this getting-off-dope thing results in greater depression, it’s something I need to confront, and now. It’s probably a good notion to have a mildly clearer head by Thursday, when I talk to the doc anyhow. I nearly swang by the liquor store, thinking a beer would be nice, but I decided that, too, would be a crutch.

Some days I just really fucking wish life was simpler than it is. I’m still paranoid about that new job. Do I still have it? Everyone I talk to says, “Oh, they wouldn’t hire you back if it wasn’t firm.”

Yeah, well, some would say they never would’ve hired me if it wasn’t firm, either, right?

I’m just tired of the duality. I’m just tired. I want my mommy. It’s when life’s hard – when I’m sick, sad, broken-hearted, broke, depressed, down on myself – that I most miss her, which is to say since about the first week of May now. I’ve actually been missing her so much that I’ve taken down nearly all my photos of her in the last two months. I’m tired of being aware of what I no longer have, I guess. It’s an insult to her memory that I’ve done that. I will soon try to get the strength to find her photos a new home here.

Depress-o-meter: My night’s getting rougher. I’m tired. Worried about work again. Bitter about things. Worried about a friend. Tired of the stress. Wishing I could buy nice clothes. Wondering what my future holds. Wishing I had a crutch. Wondering when stability will be a watchword I can use once again. Wishing, wondering, and wishing. About the only thing I can decide on is that I’m probably about a 7.5 (maybe an 8) out of 10, with 10 being the lousiest. My day was probably more of a 5, but since coming home, my mood has plummeted. Sadly.