Well, as little as I shared, we talked for hours!!! They all shared pregnancy and birthing stories, we talked about our memories, what's going on these days with us, our men, raising kids, etc. It was just really nice feeling connected. And we all have a lot more in common than I thought, sadly. You really never know what some people are going through because they're not as whiney as I am. Anyway, that was just grand. I was sooo tired the next day, but it was so worth it!!!
I've been doing pretty well lately. Not as sad, at least. I still have mood swings a lot more than I'd like, and my dissociation and mental processing have been getting a lot worse. I'm worried it's my medication. It's really hard to think and process information quickly. And I didn't realize my memory was so bad until I keep hearing "I've told you this before" like so many times...it's scaring me. As far as the dissociation goes, my face and hands are numb a lot of the time. I have a very hard time caring about anything (but also caring waaay too much about nothing), and I just feel like this life isn't mine. Like I'm living someone else's life. I feel like my body isn't mine. Idk. Idk what to do about this. If it can even be fixed.
Today was bittersweet. My mom's family was throwing a Christmas party. They have awesome food, and they're the most loving people you could hope to know. I always feel so out-of-place with them. Not for any shortcoming on their part. They always try to make me feel welcome. But anyway, we were there, listening to their stories, when my aunt said so casually in the middle of her conversation: "they had a dead body in their ward this week."
I just naturally and instantly perked up: "Really?!". Without even thinking. It must've been louder or more excited than I meant to sound, because my aunt and uncle were really amused. I felt kinda embarrassed. But my uncle went on to say: "If there ever was a wasted calling..." And my aunt chimed in: "I know! Someone so passionate about that..." They went on to talk about how people in the death industry earn a lot of money. It all blurred together. I just felt so utterly heartbroken. It really is a waste. I have always felt that people were *made* for something. Like they have the passion or prefect skillset for something. Something that would make them happy. Have you seen Salt Bae? Like him. He's a perfect example of this.
You all know how I feel about death investigation and the like by now, so I'll just summarize that it's one of few things that give me life. It's just difficult because I've tried nearly everything to get a career in that field. I have a lot working against me. You know that by now too (sorry I COMPLAIN SO MUCH!).
But yeah, that crushed my soul a bit, but I was so flattered that they knew how much I love that stuff. It was so nice to be supported. They always have supported me.
Anyway, it's been a pretty pleasant end to a pretty awful year. There's more to come :)
