Journal #11
I can’t sleep. My insomnia is back. After everything happened with Michael I wanted to sleep all the time. It felt like all my years of not sleeping well hit me at once. I hadn’t felt that way since I was pregnant. I felt as in control of my emotions and body as I was when I was pregnant too. I could be listening to someone talking and could feel my eyes getting heavy. It was so rude but I felt like I just couldn’t get enough sleep.
Now, the insomnia is back. I have always ran on little sleep. It felt wasteful. Even sitting and watching tv I would also do other things like read or clean or work on paperwork. There was always so much to do and my brain never really shut off anyway.
But just because I was awake doesn’t mean I accomplished anything. Sometimes I would lay there wanting to go back to sleep. Other times I would have this nervous energy and couldn’t focus on what to work on. The list was massive, I always felt behind. Failing.
Now, it’s different. Now I couldn’t give a fuck. I could work, but let’s be honest, it’ll be there tomorrow and no one is going to be expecting it done that fast anyway.
I clean what I want but I don’t feel the need to scrub every little thing anymore. No one is going to complain. No one will really notice except me anyway. And if they do why do I even want to be around them. Granted I really don’t have people come over. The house reeks of tragedy and they are normally the ones bringing it in.
I tried to go to read through the massive pile of books I have bought and never read but my mind drifts away so fast from them. So many of them are personal development and feel like they were written by cheerleaders who were told they had to make a sign for a specific football player they barely know. Lots of glitter and exclamation points, but the catch phrase is generic and broad.
I would say they are trying but I am not even sure that is true. Some feel like they had an opportunity to write a book and this is what they knew they could kick out fast to capitalize on the current press they had. I did reread Crush It again. I remember listening to Gary’s podcast when Michael was little, in between Diggnation and Totally Rad Show. It might have been about wine but he was a riot. I probably shouldn’t have been listening with Michael in the car, he was so little. I exposed him to all sorts of things I probably shouldn’t have.
That is really what the insomnia keeps me up with now. The regrets. The questions of if I had done it differently. What if I didn’t divorce his dad. What if I didn’t work as much. What if I hadn’t have pushed him in school. What if. What if. What if.
Would it have changed things? Or would have life played out exactly as it did? Would it have happened earlier? Would he have put his pain outward towards others instead of inward? School shootings are all the rage right now with hurt young boys. Would have I been better at catching that?
I don’t think Michael had it in him to kill other people. I don’t think that would have been an option no matter how things played out. His anger was palpable and seemed so wrapped in entitlement. As if he had the right to complain about things he has never experienced or expected the world to change to fit his ideals. I chalked it up to immaturity and lack of life experience. It ran deeper than I knew.
It’s 2:43am right now. The cat that Tony got me is asleep. I could go to the gym. At least I could be productive and sometimes I can were myself down physically to the point I can sleep. Before I used to experiment with recipes, bake a new quiche or play with a soup. Now, it seems pointless. It’s just me here. The cat doesn’t really like soup, I checked. He does like pizza. But that’s quick to make.
No, I will continue to lay here, in bed. Once I am done typing this journal up I’ll scroll through Facebook to see what people are bitching about now and look at some misspelled memes. It will keep me busy until I can get up and start the day formally. I send an email before 5am and people freak out. There is really no point otherwise.
Maybe I should donate all these books. Maybe someone else can get use out of them. I know I won’t. And there is no point in having them just clutter up the space.
Well there is something I can do this early in the morning. Google to see where I can donate the books. Look at me being productive after all.
I guess it is somewhere still inside me still. I wonder which will eventually win out for my insomnia. The regret or the panic.
I wish I could just sleep.
Chapter 2
“Oh my God, it feels like I haven’t seen you in ages!” I feel her arms wrap around me and her enthusiasm washes over me like a spray tan.
“It’s been about a year. I think last time was Ben’s birthday last year”. Why did I come to this event? Tony had given me an out, even though his wife had thought it would be good of me to get out of the house and come. Tony had married an amazing woman, strong with a level of compassion that was real and genuine you just don’t see that often. But Tony got how much I really didn’t like people to begin with and that these type of events, aka children’s birthdays where I don’t know the vast majority of people were no where close to my thing. I would do anything for them, so of course I couldn’t miss their kid’s birthday party.
“I heard about your son.” She pushed me away still holding onto my shoulders to look at me. Her head cocked to the side. “I am so sorry for your loss.” The look on her face was that of pity. I could vomit. “It was two months ago, wasn’t it? It is so brave of you to come out to little Ben’s birthday party. It must bring back so many memories for you.” I sincerely wonder if I can ask Tony’s dad to represent me if I throw down at his grandson’s birthday party.
I feel a glass pressed into my hand. “Kathryn Kay I think your husband is looking for you. He might of misplaced one of your kids again.” Tony has impeccable timing. He always has. “Jesus that woman.” I take a sip of the whiskey neat. “You know if you wanted to slap her around a bit I would take pics. We could just say it was mental distress, no judge would convict you.”
It is hard to find friends who have as dark a sense of humor as I have. It’s also incredibly hard to find friends who the same insatiable drive I have. Tony had both and encourage both whole-heartedly. I don’t know what I would do without him in my life. The last couple of months he would check in on me with a mix of telling me what to do and telling me how much it all sucked and was fucked up. It was fucked up and it didn’t need to be sugar coated as anything other than that. And for a while there him telling me what to do was really the only thing I did. He one day showed up with a runt of a kitten and said “Here, found this guy. He needs to eat. So do you. You guys can eat together.” It was an odd way to make sure I ate, something I wasn’t really doing at the time, but damn it, it worked. I have never believed in soul mates, especially in the love area. Seemed odd to me, one person to be everything to you. But I do believe there are special people you are meant to find in your life. People who can get you on a level you sometimes don’t even get yourself on. Tony got me without me having to explain any of it.
“Alex! You came! Thank you so much, Ben will be happy to see you. I see Tony already got you a drink. There is a ton of food, help yourself. And if you want to take some home I have to go containers. We made too much.” Jessica smiled and hugged me. She smelled of cookies. I wonder if all good people fundamentally smell of cookies.
“Of course I was going to come. And you look amazing. I can smell the food from here, I bet it tastes delicious”.
“I will only say this – if you need to leave, do it. No hard feelings for not saying goodbye. I don’t want you to feel obligated. We love you, we are here for you and you do what you need to do. Okay, enough of that, just wanted to say it, now lets get you some food and a hug from Ben”.
I lean over to Tony “Honestly dude, you lucked out there”. He just does his side smile.
I head off to the area with the kids to hunt down Ben and hug him. Small children run around having fun. Now see, this I can handle. It’s not watching the kids play that is an issue. Nope it’s the adults.
I wander around a bit and find Ben. Give him a big hug and let him go back to his friends. I stop over and say hi to Tony’s parents and then go to grab some food. Most of the folks here only kind of know me. They know I’m friends with Tony from college. They seem to know that my son died but not necessarily how. I get the idea they know because no one asks if I have kids or how my kid is and keep doing the held tilt thing.
I get another plate of food and sit down with Jessica’s grandmother. The woman is a trip. We talk about old musicals until several of Tony’s and Jessica’s friends from work sit down at the table with us. I don’t know them besides KiKi’s husband and introductions happen.
KiKi’s youngest comes barreling through and falls flat on their face. You can tell it is going to be a wail because the catch the breath moment before the cry comes. KiKi comes rushing over. She sooths the child and picks them up, cradling them as they cry.
“Jesus, KiKi is turning those kids so soft. She coddles them. It is too much”. Dave, her husband says with a level of animosity towards his wife people reserve for only discussions with friends and family, something I certainly don’t qualify as. “My kids want to do things like be a gamer and youtube star and she just encourages them. They are never going to move out.”
The guys laugh. Another guy pipes up “You think that’s bad, my nephew actually told me when I called his dad a pussy I should say that because it wasn’t right. This generation is so fucking soft. They can’t handle a single damn thing without being offended. We are going to die out as a species because there will be no more men left”. This really causes them to laugh.
I look at the men. They are roughly my age and a bit older. At yet what a bunch of morons. They are bitching about the kids they literally helped raise. You don’t like how they turned out? Uhhhh…maybe you should look in the mirror.
Amanda’s grandma puts her lemonade down and clears her throat.
One of the guys eyes gets big “Oh, sorry ma’am, not appropriate language to be using”.
She just smiles. “Oh honey, none of this bothers me. I am a pussy. See a pussy can take a pounding then a push out an eight-pound kid. Pussies are strong as hell. Better than you dicks who apparently get squeezed a bit and you all start crying.”
She calming gets up and leaves the table. Since I can’t stop laughing I decide I should probably leave too.
I don’t think I have laughed since the incident. Not like that. Please Dear Lord, please let me be that baller when I’m old.