I still miss her...

Today I was going through my photos and found my collection of pictures from the campaign.

In looking back not only are the final three weeks of the campaign a complete blur but in retrospect I know we worked so hard that we shot past all expectations. It was mind blowing.

I couldn't tell you what happened on any given day but I still smile when I remember the way she looked when she was exhausted and the way she insisted on sleeping with her glasses on. I laugh when I remember her enthusiasm and joy at every little thing. She was like a small child in her wonder. She is still amazing. It still hurts a little to remember saying goodbye.

I can't bring myself to tell the people who want to keep pushing and working to make for political change that I was never in this for them. I was never in this because it was my cause. I was never in the fight because I believed Obama mattered that much. I was always in it because I was hopelessly, painfully in love with her.

I gave up so much of myself because I loved her and believed in her. I still love her and believe in her but she's gone. She exists somewhere only in my memory and some far away place. She's off saving the world. A world of which I am not a part.

I know that everything I felt was unrequited and I'm childish for holding onto these memories and emotions but every once in a while I just miss her. I miss the way she believed in me with such unwavering conviction that she stood up for me against my superior and her subordinate.

I miss what she was to me not what she was in reality. I haven't seen or heard from her in months. I wish her all the happiness in the world. She deserves all that and so much more for making me believe in so many things.

if i lose my lottery because i fucked up my WS class...

then i give myself full license to have a crisis.

This will be the first semester i haven't wanted or tried to kill myself since i left high school.

I would like to hang on to that shred of pride.
I'm okay for now.





Miss Allison, I still miss you like crazy...

Did i get drunk and watch "Rocky and Bullwinkle" cartoons until the sun came up?

Yes, yes I did.

and you know what? It was fucking awesome.

some days...

some days i'll forget to take my meds. sometimes i run out and forget to refill them and i go without for a few days.

things they don't tell you about SSRI's like cymbalta: if you miss even two days your body will spiral into withdrawal symptoms. You will shake and be dizzy and out of breath and it will feel like needles are pricking every inch of your skin. You will feel like you are being shocked electrically. it will start in your brain and traverse your entire body, down to your feet and all the way back up. You will want to convulse your body will be exhausted and if you relax your muscles will twitch like you are seizing. You aren't. You are fine but your body will twitch. Once you take your medications again it will take two weeks of consistent daily dosing before they are working fully.

This is all legal. All of it is FDA approved.

I never come off of my meds into a manic episode. I always plummet into depression. I don't have a reason to be sad or cry. It doesn't need a reason.

I feel like there is a weight on my chest pressing down and making it harder to breathe. Harder to care. I want to curl up in the corner and be left alone forever. I feel so alone already. I cry over nothing. I cry about death.


It's summer.
May 18, 1996: the day my Grandpa Hart died. His was the first funeral I ever cried at. I was 8.

May 2nd, 2003: the day my Grandpa Dan died. I was in San Antonio on a band trip. I got the news from my cousin. The last time I saw my Grandan I had forgotten to say "I love you" as he was leaving; I thought it was no big deal and I would see him again. It was the most excruciating pain I had ever known.

June 28, 2006: the day my Grandma Hart died. She actually passed away while I was literally sitting on my Grandma Wink's couch saying how she was a fighter and she might make it.

June 21, 2007: the day my Grandma Wink died, less than a year after my Grandma Hart died. I was holding her hand when she died. I was alone in the room. The nurse asked if I was okay. I stared at her and said "No, I just watched my grandmother die. Of course I'm not okay." I sometimes still don't feel okay.



Maybe these are all excuses but I'm in a bad way right now.