I've been up for 20 hours, and all I've done is transcribe. K brought me a plate of Thanksgiving leftovers for dinner, and that's the only thing I ate all day. In 5 hours I get to wake up and do it all over again. Not complaining. Just...can't believe this is my life. I'm scared as hell that this is going to be my Eternity, that I'll just continue working this hard for practically nothing until I drop dead. Melodramatic, I know.What can I say. I'm fatigued.
I'm sitting in my recliner now, wrapped in my MIL's Snuggie and a Christmas blanket. It is so fucking cold in this house. I couldn't feel my hands at all today. I drink tea and Teecino all day long just to have something hot to hold. Feeling really lonely and lost and afraid tonight, so I started going through my MIL's letters. I saved them all, tied them up with a ribbon. I'll keep them forever, these pieces of her that she was kind enough to give to me. Hard to believe it's been more than a year. Everything has changed so much -- I have changed so much -- but some things haven't changed. My phone rang today and I randomly thought it was [Him]. Not in a "Greetings, Abandoned Spouse. Give me $800 a month or I'm going to sell the house out from under you" kind of way, but in the old way that he used to call to tell me he was coming home. It felt so strange....even after all this time, it strikes me as so unbelievable that everything we built together has long since crumbled into dust, the years we spent together meant nothing all along. So why do I still feel the same? I've changed in so many ways except that tiny shameful one. I'm embarrassed that I can still love him. Proof positive that I am a total effing moron. But on the other hand, I don't want to have to feel bad for loving anyone. I don't want love to be a bad thing. I'm not the one who should be ashamed. Eh, whatever. Tired. Must sleep.
I thought reading her letters again would hurt. I was right, but it isn't a bad pain. It isn't even unwelcome. The pain is a reminder, in a way, of love shared. But then it hit me, and it actually took my breath away: Why did she ask for me? Why me? How did I get to be so lucky as to be that person for her? I don't understand it. I don't understand it at all, and I probably never will. It would probably have been a little bit less confusing if her son hadn't recently decided that life was way better without me in it, but not by much. Why did she ask for me? I don't really need to know. This is just me turning it over and over in my mind, treasuring it and trying to feel worthy of it.
I have no idea where I was going with this. My feet are numb. I'm going to sleep on the couch for a few hours because I cannot go back into that office yet. It feels like a tomb. Or a cuckoo's nest.
Tim called me a donut earlier, though, so that made my night. I'm "a donut that wishes to be a blob....cake smart, but with an appealing flaky pie crust. So to speak." Heh. I'll be writing those down for future reference when smiles are much needed.
Holy hell, I need to be unconscious immediately. If I don't get paid soon, I'm going to run out of Silk nondairy creamer. If I run out of Silk nondairy creamer, I won't be able to drink shitty instant coffee. If I can't drink shitty instant coffee, I will turn into a mole person. Okay. All I have to do is make it to Sunday, and then I can sleep for an entire day. After I see my mama, of course.
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