May 19, 2015 – Departure

Apparently, I was more tired than interested in finishing my thoughts this morning.  Well, I’m finally on the first flight and handled most of the taxiing and ascent pretty well (okay, I grabbed the arm rests.  Don’t judge.)  The flight is okay so far.  Valium, Xanax and a double whiskey sours (spaced out over time) helped me out to get my butt on this plane.  (Jesus H on a stick, it’s hard to write legibly while flying.  Or falling asleep for that matter.)

Keeping an eye on the flight tracker on my personal screen (40 minutes until JFK).  I’m not really planning on writing too much on the flight to Heathrow.  I’m either drinking or sleeping.  (Seriously, this is fucking hard to write while on here.)  Maybe, I’ll just end here now and pick up later.  This is too ridiculous for me.  Let’s just hope I’m as calm as I am now for the other two flights on this trip…

I (Don’t) Wanna Be Sedated

I was talking to my husband just a little while ago, when I almost said out loud to him “I saw my dad today.”  Which, as you all know, is impossible.  I don’t know why the thought popped up in my head, considering I didn’t even see anyone resembling him today.  I’ve thought about him – it’s hard not to these days.  But that’s okay.

I ended up telling him my thought anyway, for no reason.  It kind of brought me down and I wanted to have some context, possibly to explain, in case he noticed.  My eyes started to tear up but I couldn’t let myself cry.  My body shook a bit, but I just couldn’t release it.  In the past 3 1/2 weeks, I’ve wondered if my medications are keeping me from letting it all go.  I’m not trying to prove anything to anyone by having that agonizing, gut-wrenching, heart-breaking, seizure-like cry.  I want it for me.  Yes, I’m being selfish, but I need this.  Is it really the meds keeping me from it?

No, I’m not going to go off my medications just for that.  I know I need them to keep me level.  But isn’t there some kind of loophole for me to go through to achieve what I want?  Let me hide in my closet, with a wad of tissues and no one around so I can just have it out with myself.  This is part of my grieving process.