Here we go. about 12 days since my mother's death day, cannot call it an anniversary because that feels like it should be a celebrated occasion. it sucks. 22 years this shit has sucked ass the whole time.  I dwell on that: my mother is dead. but sadly i only remember to think about it on it in June and October. Birth Month; Death Month.

Don't get me wrong, i think about her every single day of my life. But my walls crumble in June and October. 

I hurt so bad and i feel like a hypocrite because the majority of my life i spend telling folks that they need to get over shit. I cannot get over mine. 

I NEED TO STOP BEING SAD. 

sad about her. sad that i cannot deal with it. at all, inside.

Inside i am angry, hurt, a broken shell. 

I want to grab someone and shake them and ask  why they aren't sad. but; instead i go about my life being sad. seeing my children's lives progress and being hurt that my mother cannot see the things they do. She never saw any of her grandchildren. 

I want an outlet like music gave me when i was a teenager or in my 20s. I NEED something. crocheting isn't doing it because i always have a kid expecting something, a new project. Clearly writing is not my forte, and i can only do it after the kids are asleep and usually, unless drinking, is my bed time too.... or, like this evening, i am drunk and being all woe is me.

Yup drunk rambling. but oooooh. no meds for years (unless you count booze)

maybe sad is the wrong word. maybe i am just angry. if that is the case and i am angry then that means that i really am just sad (anger is a secondary emotion)  and FUCK OCTOBER AND THE CONSTANT REMINDER OF THIS BULLSHIT!!!

listening to #thePixies, #PIL and #SlothRust. not that that changes or fixes anything.

I'm starting to not feel like myself again... if i even know what that feels like in the first place.