I sit in my bed alone. The silence makes the inside of my ears hot. My eyes burn and water, pushed beyond endurance.

All I see are the yesterdays, all the shadowy days I try to hide from myself, lest they emerge and tear my mind asunder.

But they are here now. If I do not face them one by one, as I have in the past, they will just get louder and uglier, and more truthful.

I just wish I didn’t have to go through it alone.  The very few people I have, can not stand witness to my never ending reals of memories, lest they realize that more than one of the acts committed herein has cast them in the role of victim.


{April 15, 2013}   How did I get here?

How did I get here? Right now, this moment. Sitting at the kitchen table, alone, silence so loud my ears are ringing. Not happy, not sad, or angry or bored or ashamed? In this moment, who am I, and how did I get here?

A series of moments, a series of decisions…. my decisions and those of others. My father stabbing my mother in the head with scissors.  Going to work with my mother when she was young and beautiful. She was an aerobics instructor and I sat on the weight bench and ate grapes.

New house… dad at the door with flowers, red roses. Mom likes yellow. We don’t open the door for daddy anymore. We hide and cry in the bedroom.

Days of Our Lives… I was named after Rachel Cory. I remember when Mac died. I think that’s when botox was invented, Cuz Bo and Hope still look the same.

Eating McDonalds on the porch in the rain. I think that was the only childhood memory I have where my older brother wasn’t a total jerk. I love him so much. He’s so far away from me now. I haven’t heard his voice in a year. Only one letter…

When I was seven, things got crazy. I took a bunch of tests, pictures on cards, a string of beads. I spelled thermos and they said I was gifted. New kids, new class. Only I was too smart for my friends, and too dumb for the new kids. There was a lot of room at my lunch table.

The teacher told me not to hold the jar of paint by the lid…

I had to go so bad…

My mom met a man with a red face. He smiled too much. I drew him a picture.

I guess that’s not how I got here, to this silent kitchen.

But that was the beginning…

{April 5, 2013}   My best friend…

We became friends when we were fourteen. Raised our children together. Took care of each other. She was closer to me than anyone, before or since. She’ funny, and even better, she thinks I’m funny!!! Well, sometimes… She has got a monster temper that is super scary, but she is a strong smart independent woman that doesn’t take any shit. She’s beautiful, magnetic when she laughs. She’s got this way about her, hard to explain. Like an aloofness, coupled with a look that says I know all your secrets…. and your gonna earn mine.
She is so creative. She can do or make anything. She was pinterest before Al Gore created the internet.
She is an unbelievable mother. She is a working single mother of two and puts all of the stay at home gossipy moms I see at the park to shame.
Her daughter is a vision. Graduating this year. I can’t believe how time flies… So much like her momma, but becoming her own woman and the future holds only greatness.

My best friend has been there for every major moment of my life. Every time I have reached for her she has been there. I know that’s hard to believe, we are all human, and busy, right? I call her name and she is there, just like that. Still, after all these years.

The last time I saw her was at my mothers funeral, a year ago. Leaving my comfort zone causes panic attacks so I make plans to go see her and then cancel. I cannot talk on the phone due to anxiety, so I don’t call her. Very rarely she takes a chance and try to call me. 98% of the time I watch my phone ring without answering. The few times I have answered, I talk really fast, and as I get more and more panicked, I make an excuse to hang up, say I’ll call back, and don’t.

Everyte things are rough for her, like they are now, I just sit for long periods, stuck in my head again. I replay in my mind all the times she’s been there for me. I look back on the cloud PJs  and the Ryan Brian, and the shelf she painted for our bathroom that matched our shower curtain so well. How did she do that?

I say, I’ll be there in ten minutes. I’ll take the kids out so you can relax. I’ll pay for everything. I’ll cook and clean. I’ll kick her ass for you. I’ll really kick his as for you. I’ll fix your car, remodel your bathroom. Ill grow “brews itself” coffee beans under your kitchen window. I’ll turn down the heat of the sun so you can hold it in your hand. I’ll fix everything. I’ll make you smile.

But I don’t do any of that. The best I got is a text saying “how ya doin?”. I’m so sorry. I love you so much. God, forgive me…

You know what she says when I offer my feeble apologies?

I understand.

et cetera