eureka

I’ve figured it out!

I know why I’ve spent the last two weeks being angsty and melodramatic and much, much less talkative than usual! It was really bothering me that my inner monologue couldn’t even come up with a decent reason for my non-stop sour mood to the point where I couldn’t even write about it – there was badness, it was huge, yet no words would come out to explain away the melancholy. That’s really unlike me – I have a soliloquy for every damn situation – but I figured it was one of a dozen or so reasons I had to be down in the proverbial dumps.

It’s not, though. The first half of this month has been uncharacteristically shitty for me, and it’s NOT because of any of the following things:

  • The impending end of summer
  • My near-death experience by a) frat boys, b) a truck, or c) the aporkalypse
  • The ambitious yet utterly insane work calendar I set up for myself
  • My missing self-esteem
  • Cheddar puking on every single thing on my desk yesterday morning
  • Having to skip 7 or 8 Fun Things because I was too sick to go outside
  • Missing my friends because of the hamtrax and uncooperative schedules
  • Being absent from work for 3 unplanned days, forcing me to cram 9 days of work into 4
  • An insensitive husband making dumb comments about my appearance
  • Being out of Diet Coke

It’s none of those. Yes, they’ve all negatively affected me one way or another, but I’ve gotten pretty good at shrugging these things off and continuing my Life’s Work of being ridiculous – but not this time, and I’ve finally figured out why.

Four years ago today, my dad selfishly decided he was done with life and succumbed to his advanced age and raging stomach cancer. I miss my dad, and every year around this time I am filled with sadness and guilt at his death. The very fact that I am sad leads to another sad – while it’s perfectly natural for me to miss my father and be upset at his passing, if I were to be perfectly honest with myself I would have to admit that I am TOTALLY CHOKED a) that he died at all and b) that September is now a sad month for me when it used to be filled with awesome.

I love September. There’s so much going on – long weekends, gorgeous days, pretty colours, cozy sweaters, parties, BBQs, super fun events, killer sales on school supplies. It’s usually a month of happiness, too – anniversaries and happy times and celebrating the fact that we made it another year without killing each other. All good things.

Then, right in the middle of it all, is a giant behemoth of sad. My dad passed away on September 18th, and while his death remains suspicious in my mind – 91 year old men don’t suddenly contract cancer just like that and then die – every year I struggle with balancing my natural September delight with sadness and missing my dad. Every year before now I’ve been completely conscious of the Deathiversary, and appropriately angst-ridden – but this year, while it didn’t slip my mind, I’ve been dealing with swine flus and work and a dozen other things that have weighed heavily in my brain juices. My dad is always on my mind – I’ve finally been able to put his memory into Happy House, whereas Sasha still lives in the Burst into Random Tears Condo – but THIS September, I tried to bury the Deathiversary in Other Things, and clearly failed miserably.

Strangely, I feel much better now. I miss my dad – hell, I’ll always miss my dad – but this month has been really, really weird for me and it’s just a relief to realize WHY. And now that I know why, I can deal with it and get back to normal (for me anyway; it involves glitter and stripper shoes).

I love you, dad, and I miss you. You suck for being dead, but I’m glad you’re in a better place. Look after Sasha for me, and don’t let her eat your chicken.

Ed and I are off to Portland for a mini anniversary trip. I will buy things, he will tell me I’m pretty until I tell him to shut up, and hopefully when we return on Monday I will be in a much better frame of mind. I’m more or less already there, but I think getting out of the country will be good for me (if only for the tax-free shopping and beer at 7-11).

Sorry for being out of sorts, but I’m better now.

6 thoughts on “eureka

  1. My father died 28 years ago, on October 15th; the beginning of October has been filled with angst ever since.

    After a while, you see it coming, and can tell everyone to get the hell away from you.

    I hug you.

  2. 780 words (781 if you count the title)
    3,372 characters (no spaces)
    4,145 characters (with spaces)

    She’s baaack.

    On a more sombre note, my sympathies re your father’s ‘Deathiversary’. And hey! – let Sasha eat his chicken. What good is ‘heaven’ if you still have to deny yourself or those you love?

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