Anniversaries – two

Last year, on top of keeping a journal, I also kept a calendar where I marked important things. Things ranged from appointments to behaviors to triggers and anything significant (not all horrible, sometimes just things people would say to me that’d make me laugh).

October 6th, 2017 was the last time I cut myself. And tomorrow (technically today I guess though it is just after midnight at the moment), is 6 years since my mother was killed in a car accident. And I know each blog I’ve had, I’ve always pointed it out and I will probably do so for the rest of my life.

Because sometimes I still can’t believe she’s gone. This week I laughed when I bought computer glasses for work because they reminded me of the ones she had in prison, the ones she called “birth control glasses” because they were hideous.

I laughed again when I thought of the time she convinced herself that a moth had taken residence in her ear and would say, “But Felicia, I can hear it flying around!” She was like I am. Just convinced of things that are in my bubble and once self-convinced, cannot be unconvinced by others.

In my calendar, by this point last year, I had started drinking more. (To be fair, it started in the beginning of August, when Jared died.) I marked each day I drank (drank, drank again, etc). I’m glad I kept records because I forgot so much and it’s good to track progress.

My suicide book is not gone but transformed into a book I save solely to write intrusive thoughts, in mostly vain attempts to clear my mind when the medicine can’t kill them all. So I have placed this anniversary next to my mother’s and it isn’t a big one compared to what came later in the month, what came in November, December, January. The year has been full of intense changes, returned loves, and the excruciatingly slow process of self-examination and modification based on new knowledge.

Remembering my mom is sometimes a checkpoint for progress: how am I holding up? Am I the same or different? By how much?

I miss my mom a lot, forever. I miss myself from a year ago, only sometimes.

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