« missing, one ordinary self | Main | stress. sigh. »

Friday, December 05, 2003

mostly about yesterday

ooh, rain that's supposed to last all weekend started last night. It Is Time. My annual reading of Jane Eyre can commence. Although maybe the Christmas tree is too cheerful to allow the proper atmosphere? Should I hold out for a foggy week in January?


In other news, I totally, fully suck. I completely blew off my discussion chapters for one of my reading Yahoogroups this week. I've been getting later and later with them and this week I fully FORGOT about them until someone posted the next section. This is like high school all over again, and that feeling of shame as I walked into class after class without homework. I just never got around to doing a lot of it. Someone please just beat me with sticks. I'd feel so much better afterward.


Other than that today is a pretty good day, so far. I am feeling much better than I was yesterday. Although the meltdown LT just had does not bode well for the rest of the day. Oh please, please just let me hold it together better today...


I'm all motivated again to watch what I eat. I was really well-behaved diet-wise yesterday; it was a huge struggle because I never really have got back on the well-behaved bandwagon after getting waylaid back in, oh, October I think. I haven't gained but I've only lost about three pounds in all that time. So yesterday I decided that it was The Day, I was going to just DO it, and I had growly cranky hunger to deal with all day in addition to a really ridiculous case of PMS, and a cluttery house. Is it any wonder my mood was so awful? I ask you.


Plus, on a serious note, yesterday morning when I woke up I had just been having a dream about my middle daughter, who died when she was two months old. The date that would have been her sixth birthday is approaching and I always dream about her around her birthday (as well as a lot of other times, but the birthday is a without-fail kind of thing). In all the dreams, she is still a baby; in this one, she was in a crib in our living room, except when I picked her up it turned out that the baby I'd been caring for all these years was my (living) daughter's doll. So I looked in the other crib in my living room, and it was full of dolls; my best friend was there (a definite dream-thing -- she lives in Florida; I only WISH she could just drop by like she did in this dream) and she kept giving me dolls saying, "Is she this one?" and I was panicking because she was lost, until the crib was empty and the realization hit me that she had been dead for almost six years and then the phone rang and I woke up. Crying. This did not help to set a positive tone for the rest of the day.


Wow, that turned serious, didn't it. I don't usually talk about my dreams -- in fact few things are more mind-numbingly boring to me than hearing someone detail every moment of a dream, so don't worry that this will become a daily occurrence -- but that one was key to how I felt yesterday, in combination with all the other factors. I also never know how much to talk about my daughter. I know a lady whose husband died five years before I met her. When we first met, the first thing she said to me was something to the effect of how hard it was dealing with life without her husband, giving the impression that he had just died, and I had a hard time maintaining a straight face when I found out that he'd been gone for so long. While I know that if MY husband died I would still be missing him unbearably after five years, bringing it up like that takes on a certain level of ridiculousness -- like someone you'd read about in an L.M. Montgomery book or something -- and I resolved at that moment that I would not be the person who brought up my daughter as a sympathy ploy to everyone I met. And yet her memory is very dear to us, and we still miss her, and I don't want the world to think that I have forgotten her, either. It's a hard line to draw; please forgive me if I've crossed it today. :)

--------