Author: Midnight Demon

Grief is so fucking hard

In the quest of trying to change my bedding, I was clearing stuff off my bed that had accumulated since top surgery back in March. I found my mother’s obituary/memorial thing from the funeral home. Just seeing her stupid smiling face made me feel a pang of loss. I didn’t know where to put it so I just shoved it in my drawer thing.

I have been drinking a lot of coffee today. I had four cups so far. It is so hot in my house other than in my room. I finally put my comforter in the wash. My bed is clear and I will hopefully be sleeping in clean sheets tonight. Haven’t decided if I am going to shower or not. I last took a shower over the weekend at the hospital. I thought I brought some t-shirts but I didn’t. I only had two tank tops with me and two long sleeved shirts. It worked out because the AC was blowing so it was cool throughout my stay.

I woke up feeling rested for the first time in forever. I took my beard off. I am down to a stubble. My moustache is a mess. I don’t know how to fix it without shaving it off and I am not ready to do that yet. I found some scissors so might trim it so that it doesn’t look so messed up. I woke up with my chest feeling tight. I took some meds and it loosened up. I just feel really tired now after I have been doing stuff.

I managed to put my comforter and sheets in the wash. I had like four sets of sheets and I can only find one. I can’t seem to find the sheet but found the fitted sheet. Ugh. My foot is flared up with nerve pain right now otherwise I would try and find the damn sheet. I know where the pillow case is at least. I have no idea where my gray sheet set went. Haven’t seen that in a long time. But then, I haven’t really been looking for it either.

Foot is acting up so taking a shower after I make the bed is out. Soon as I finish writing this blog I am going to make the bed. I need to see my barber soon. I am going to try and shave after the cut to take it down some. But my hair grows so fast that it really doesn’t matter if I do or not.

Dr. Jobes came out with his third edition of Managing Suicide Risk. I will be ordering it on Monday. I will have all three versions. I plan on reading the third edition to update my blog about it. I haven’t updated it since the SSF was in its third phase. I am hoping there is now an electronic version of the SSF (suicide status form). I had been making them in a word document but since I don’t have a therapist that uses them, I haven’t updated it to the current form. I’ve seen no reason to.

Sox played day game and lost. They are on their way home. They are off tomorrow, which sucks. They will play the miserable Mets so will probably lose to them. I just don’t have confidence in them anymore. Games they should have kicked ass, they lose. I don’t get it.

Sparks flew today

I had therapy today and I was really nervous about it as she was on vacation when I got admitted. I was really fearing that my admission was holding up the letter I need from her. It was but now she is going to write it. I am glad. The session was mostly about my anger about everything in the last several months, from how I was discharged in a confused state to my mother calling me son a few weeks before she died. I was also mad about not being able to choose the name I wanted because I wanted to be a people pleaser in people accepting me as trans. My therapist said I needed to talk about my anger in order for grief to pass. I am just so angry at my mother for so many reasons. It isn’t just that she fucked with me the last month of her life, either. She never accepted any boundary that I tried to lay out for her. It was always doing what she wanted, not what I wanted. I remember for my 16^th birthday I didn’t want a birthday party as it was the first party after my parents separated and I wasn’t going to spend it with people I hardly knew. She wanted me to spend it with her side of the family. I wanted to spend it with my father’s but it wasn’t possible. I was so hurt. She spoiled birthdays for me ever since. I hate my birthday. I didn’t even get a chance to celebrate my last birthday with her and I feel really hurt about it. She was in the hospital with a broken hip. We had kept the tumor knowledge from her until it was time for the biopsy. Just really sucked she died in four months time. No one knew. I was in denial about her decline. But I still helped take care of her, despite my feelings of hate for her.

After therapy, I tried to clear my bed off. I am almost there but my back keeps spazzing on me so I need to rest. I just have my “office” area to clear. I have a paper pile up. I don’t even remember what these papers are. I found a cab voucher that I will use next week when I see my pcp. I changed it from virtual to in person because my knees acted up while I was in the hospital and I think I should get them checked out. I am scared it might be the beginning of osteoarthritis. Both knees hurt in similar areas so not sure if they are injured or it is degeneration. Going down stairs is more painful than going up. I have to do one step at a time to avoid pain.

I had four cups of coffee today. I wanted to go to Starbucks but it is like 90 degrees out and I hate heat so much. I have stayed in my room most of the day except for eating and using the bathroom. I found my last box of Spring Day coffee from Starbucks. So good. I had to buy more coffee as there is only a few cups left. I have been up since 9 when my aunt called me. She wanted to know if I wanted to go to her house today. I told her I had therapy. We might get together for lunch later this week.

I am still so angry my mother fucked with me and I can’t ask her if she was serious about calling me son as we never talked about it. I know from experience that kidney failure can mess with the mind. I don’t know if she was in her right mind when she called me son in front of her sister. Then I have when she had a moment of clarity she recognized me and then afterwards she didn’t. She drifted off into the dying phase and never regained consciousness again. I feel like I am left holding the fucking bag with a few important questions that will never be answered.