January 28, 2010

For Khizzy, because this became too big for a comment.


I'm unpredictable, and oversensitive and liable to fly-out-of-control the minute my father's name is mentioned, even now close to two years after his death. I know I need to get over it (somehow) and I know people who care try their best to reach out to me. And it frustrates both them and me that their efforts have no results.

I don't need solicitous care. I'm not the one who bled to death on a hospital table. Physically, I'm fine.

I don't need displays of self righteous anger directed at the police-who-haven't-figured-out-who-dun-it-yet. Do they think I don't know that they haven't done jack all aside from harassing my poor traumatized brother half to death?

I definitely don't need the gentle reminder that other people lose people they love also, they learn how to move on, and so should we. And I don't know how to tell them - for the nth time - that I'm a reasonably well-adjusted human being. I don't need anyone to tell me that I'm still grieving, I KNOW I'm grieving. And as superhuman as those other people are, I'm clearly not one of them.

I don't need long-drawn analogies of how-I've-changed-since. Ofcourse I've changed. What do they expect? I've been my father's darling since he picked me up, minutes after I was born. And vice versa. For me, so much of my life ended with him I had no idea what else to do but start over. Like life before August 2008 was just a pleasant dream. Reality started after. Have you ever had to re-invent your world? It's not pleasant. And sometimes, it's not even sane. But for some of us it's a necessary survival tool. So yes, I've changed. Maybe far more than I ever wanted to. But I'm never going to apologize for it. And you shouldn't expect me to.

I don't need to 'talk about it'. I don't 'want' to talk about it. Not to you. Not to anyone out there who thinks they can, but can never understand what we go through. Why would I 'need' to let you into my bubble of pain, explain to you what I feel and by putting words to it trivialize it? How can you think that by talking about him, by telling you-who-didn't-know-him how wonderful he was, I'll be able to appease some of the hurt inside? What makes you so very important for my sanity?

I don't need to be told over-and-over how I need to settle down so that I regain some stability in my life. I've studied Freud too darlings, and I can draw parallels between my tragedy and the number of times in the recent past I've derived comfort from a warm, male embrace. I admit, it's been easier to cry when I've been held. And it's definitely been a hell-of-a-lot easier to sleep. But I'm not husband hunting simply to fill a void. I've caused enough transient damage to my soul over the past two years. I have no desire to make it permanent.


There is loss, and then there is loss.

There is death and then there is death.

And the truth is that's pretty much all I have to say about it.


Khizzy said...

i really need to give you my email address.
but i know where you're coming from.
and exactly what i meant in my last comment.

although i think this post was maybe necessary.

Xeb said...


I think so too. But venting on my blog while smiling away at 'them' (because I know they're genuine) is somewhat chicken-shit. Sigh.

Marina said...

*hugs you hard*

uglyduckling91 said...

I've been staring at this for too long.

Xeb said...

M: :)

ud: Err, I'm sorry? :P

Anonymous said...

'What thou lov'st well, remains, the rest is dross'.