solemn Saturday

Solemn Saturday

I woke up before 0500 in pain. I took some pain meds and then set my alarm so I could go to the barber’s early to fix the back of my head. I fell back to sleep and when the alarm sounded. I shut it off but didn’t get up. I slept for 45 minutes and then got ready. It was already humid out and I was dreading it because I had to wear pants in this heat. I found a button down shirt in my office and grabbed a tie. I had to go to a wake after I got my haircut.

I left with time to spare and as I was at the bus stop, I pulled out my wireless headset. I should have stood up but I didn’t and one of the sides came undone. Dammit. I had to go back to the house to get my wired set. I was hoping to fix it but I couldn’t because the screw prevented me from putting it back into place and I didn’t want the wire to get undone.

The bus came and I went to the barber’s first before Starbucks. He fixed my head and trimmed the top. He cut the price as I saw him last week. I just gave him a bigger tip. I went to Starbucks and had my espresso and a sandwich. I still had plenty of time before the wake was supposed to happen. I was going to take the train but then I thought one of the buses in the Square would take me to the green line and I could connect to the blue line easier than going from red to orange to blue.

I was still really early by at least an hour and I just rode the train from one end of the line to the other until it was time to get off. I walked to the funeral home and the voices started harping on me like I didn’t know where I was going. I grew up in this town so was very familiar with the lay out. However, I am used to the starting point being the house I grew up in so it took me a while to get my bearings. The voices kept on doubting my judgement. I was getting so aggravated. Some stores and stuff had changed in the 25 years since I was in that area. I saw my elementary school and once I did, I knew where I was and where the street to the home would be.

I was sweating pretty good by the time I got there. My friend’s mother was appreciative that I came. I had known her when I was a teen as she did some workshop with the youth network I was involved in. I said hello to my friend and offered my condolences. I saw his wife, who was another friend of mine and said hello. I saw their beautiful daughter but she didn’t know me so I didn’t say anything to her. It was sad and my friend’s mother was very upset. I guess it wasn’t a planned death, the hardest kind. I had known my father was going to die. It was just a matter of time and so I had time to prepare. As I left I told them if they needed anything, they knew where to find me (FB).

I left and stopped at a gas station to get a bottle of water. I was so parched in the heat. By the time I got within a block of the train station, my foot exploded. Fuck and I wasn’t anywhere near home. I didn’t take any pain meds with me. I just didn’t think. So I hobbled to the station and the train came soon as I walked in. Score. The same thing happened on my connecting train home. I had to wait for the bus though. My feet were not happy.

I came home and hit the shower. I was soaked. Everything went in the hamper. I don’t think anything was dry. The shower was so refreshing. My feet didn’t like it but I didn’t care. I took some pain meds when I got up to my room. I have been keeping a spreadsheet on my phone on how many pills I take a day and it was 12 hours since my last dose. I waited a little bit for it to work before making something to eat. I was hungry but I wasn’t. I decided to make hot dogs rather than to order out.

After dinner, I fixed my Bluetooth headset. I was grateful it wasn’t broken and I needed to get another one. This one is pretty good with stand-by time and length of use. Only thing that sucks is that it takes a full 2 hours to charge but it’s worth it. I generally use my powered USB port so I can charge it and not have to be on the laptop to do it.

About G. Collerone

suicide attempt survivor writing about the hopelessness that accompanies depression that no one likes to talk about
This entry was posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

any thoughts?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s