the not sleeping thing has come back with a vengeance. in the last 5 days i've gotten 8 hours of sleep.
haven't painted in two and a half months. and it sucks.
the energy that you put out there comes back to you.
saw therapist dude today (it was E's appointment).
he left me with some parting words. some day i GET to tell the boys the story of how their father died. um...get to?? how about 'have' to.
will they understand why i didn't take them to see their daddy? will they understand it's because i thought it would scare them?
that i didn't want their last memory of their father to be of him attached to 50 machines with weird sounds and smells....
will they understand why i chose to have their daddy taken off the vent?
i sure fucken hope so.
i want the memory of james seizing to leave my head.
i want the memory of james struggling to breathe to go away.
i want the memory of me discussing organ donation out in the hall while james was on life support to leave my head.
i want the memory of james dying (turning blue and purple, gasping for breath) to leave my head.
i want to live my life. not just get through each day.
sunset in the harbor.
would it really be a bad thing to live here?
i don't think so.
some day it would be nice if what i had to say had nothing to do with james. not because i don't love him anymore. i need more than memories in my life. just sayin.