I think a lot about the word “resilient”. (I know. I know. Hide your shocked face. Sheri was thinking a lot about…a word…)
ANYWAYS…
Resilient.
What does it mean exactly?
Welp, let’s break it into three definitions.
According to Merriam Webster, the definitions of Resilient are:
Characterized or marked by resilience: such as a) capable of withstanding shock without permanent deformation or rupture b) tending to recover from or adjust easily to misfortune or change
Ok. Now, for the ones in the back row. good ol’ MW up there says that it means being able to deal with shock and misfortune…without becoming deformed.
Cool. Ok. Next.
What people truly mean by Resilient:
“You have faced challenges that would have overwhelmed many people, yet you found a way to keep going. You adapted, survived, and continued building a life despite circumstances that could have stopped you.”
Ok…that’s kind of sweet. Usually heartfelt. Its trying to spin a bad situation into a compliment to the person who survived it.
I’ll allow it. Next.
What many people who are called RESILIENT define it as:
“…’dafuq? Did you just compliment me on only having internal injuries after being hit by a bus? Like… ‘Congrats on the trauma, boo! You rocked this!'”
Please don’t take this to mean we don’t appreciate the compliment.
We do.
We know you mean well.
But that gratitude for the way you describe us comes with so many other feelings.
“I’d rather be considered weak and never have experienced these things.”
That’s the part people don’t understand.
“I mean…tradesies? 🤷♀️”
And, sadly but truly, there’s often a question lurking underneath.
“Do you really believe I’m resilient and strong, or are you just uncomfortable?”
We hate that our stories do make people uncomfortable.
We have been judged for what was done to us.
Sometimes…we don’t know if it’s another silent judgment, a plea to stop talking about uncomfortable things, or – as is genuinely the case – a truly well-meaning compliment from someone who can’t see the scars.
Whatever the definition, I guess at least we’re not visibly deformed. 😆
One of my favorite things lately is re-reading my old blogs when they show up in the traffic. Sometimes it’s because I’m pretty freaking funny. Other times, it’s because I find wisdom I forgot somewhere along the way.
Today, someone read a blog I wrote about how I try to be intentional in sharing kindness, just in case I’m the only person who shows them kindness that day. I wrote about changing my mindset from, “What if I’m the only one today?” to “What if I’m the last?”
What if I’m the last person who has a chance to tell someone they’re beautiful before they give up on ever believing it?
What if I’m the last person to tell someone I love them before they stop believing anyone can?
What if I’m the last person they trust…and I mess that up…and they never trust again?
I have lived that way.
So re-reading that post didn’t remind me of wisdom I’d lost.
It hit differently today.
It made me realize that this feeling inside me…it’s that I’ve reached a lot of my lasts.
I have lived much of my life hoping that one day it would get better. But I don’t have much of that hope anymore. I just have a lot of plans for how I’ll live without those things.
When I think about anyone ever treating me like I’m beautiful, I don’t have hope. I have a list of people who told me I wasn’t. And a plucky, “Oh well” attitude.
“I don’t need to feel beautiful. I’ll live without that.”
When I think about anyone staying, I don’t have hope. I have a list of people who didn’t, and a lot of jokes about becoming an urban legend in the woods.
When I think about anyone caring about my feelings or my boundaries…
You get the point.
I keep going. I keep being “resilient” (I hate that fucking word). I keep laughing and living.
But hope that it will get better?
I’ve already had my lasts.
All I can do now is make sure I’m never someone else’s last.
Sooooooooo…how’s it goin’? 😉 I know I haven’t written much in a pretty long time. But…this time it’s because I’ve been trying to learn to live again after losing Aaron.
I *am* starting.
I had a rather transcendent experience at Warped Tour last November that gave me the push I needed to get my life back in action.
Since then, I left my job that I’d been at for 22 years…to finally go somewhere where I could have TIME to live. And that’s been pretty cool. Scary. And, quite honestly, humbling.
I spent a lot of years being one of the best at what I do. In my opinion (and the opinions of those close to me – even my old boss), I still AM one of the best at what I do. But, Lord….proving it to a whole new set of bosses?
HUM…BLING.
(Quick edit to add: My old boss just told me they hired a second new Tax Manager since I left…because *hair flip* one person couldn’t replace me. Boom. *sassy mic drop*)
But it’s a new environment…and more chances to find actual…life…in my life again.
I’ve tried dating a couple of times. Bad results. Horrible. 0/10 Do Not Recommend. Honestly, has reminded me that I think I’d rather be alone. At least until men figure out how to treat women again. (Side Note: Check out Chanel Yates ONCE UPON A TIME. This song makes me laugh every damn time I hear it. 😆)
Like I might start writing children’s books.
I’ve made a few new friends at work…I made up with a best friend that I’d had a 3+ year falling out with…and I’ve truly worked harder at leaving my house instead of wallowing and crying about what I’ve lost.
But I still remember every bit of what I lost.
And, while it still has the ability to bring me to tears…the memories have also been like a radioactive spider that keeps biting me to remind me that losing Aaron gave me one very cool superpower.
My give-a-fuck is completely broken.
The girl who used to spiral over every disagreement, misunderstanding, and microaggression? The girl who has spent her whole life being ready for the danger…the abandonment…the manipulation…and the guilt…and blamed herself for every little piece of it?
She’s with Aaron now.
But Super Sheri?
That’s a whole different story.
Now…I can still be hurt. It’s a lot harder, but I can be. But, when I am… I’m not blaming me anymore. I’m not spiraling in anxiety. I’m just flat-out pissed the fuck off for however long I need to be…and then I move on…usually without the person who decided my boundaries weren’t important.
I’m not chasing people anymore.
I’m chasing my own peace.
I still have to deactivate Facebook sometimes (it’s currently deactivated for a few days), but not because I’m spiraling in anything. Just because…well…if I’m being honest…the world is REALLY loud these days.
And I don’t want to give the shitshow we’re living in my peace.
I can be hurt, but I’m honestly not sure if my heart can actually be broken anymore.
My family and the loss of Aaron have both shown me what heartbreak actually is.
Everything else?
Just noise.
Noise that I’m ready to respond to with, “Nah. You hurt my ears. Bye.”
I’ve always been unbreakable, but I’ve rarely given myself full credit for it.
Now…I’m like a jawbreaker.
Try to break me.
It’s only going to hurt you.
Some people will read this and think, “Sheri’s lost her mind.”
That’s fine.
Those aren’t my people.
My people know that finally getting here…gaining this superpower…being unbreakable (even to myself)…this is the greatest gift Aaron ever could have given me…and one that, I have a feeling, has him cheering on in Heaven like a new GI Joe movie just came out.
And knowing that I’m living in a way that would make Aaron proud?
That’s enough.
(Had to stop back by hours after writing this. One of my very closest friends in the whole world…my surrogate brother…texted me to tell me he’d read this and KNOWS Aaron is proud of me. That made my heart extra happy tonight. ❤️)
Preface this to say, I’m not feeling any kind of way tonight. I’m a-ok, b-ok, etc. I’ve just been meaning to get this thought down for awhile now.
So, one of the wonders of PTSD is flashbacks. Luckily, I didn’t have to deal with those. Or…so I always thought.
Like most people, I always assumed flashbacks were uncontrollable memories of the events. Like a soldier back from war will SEE visions of what he left behind.
That was when I thought all PTSD was the same, regardless of mine having a C in front of it.
I was wrong on both counts.
For many, flashbacks and nightmares aren’t memories of the actual event(s). They are being flooded with the same FEELINGS that you were flooded with during the event(s). Fear, loss of control, anger…all of it.
I only recently understood this about flashbacks. (I already knew it about dreams.)
And since learning this, I keep coming back to one particular memory that always left even me saying, “WTF?!?!?”
It was about 4.5 years ago. I was meeting some friends for a race. I was rather…meh…about going for a couple of reasons. 1. I had just found out that my mother had moved. Still somewhere close, but I didn’t kmow where yet. And that is a terrifying thing to me. 2. I knew someone I REALLY didn’t like…like she triggered me in a way only my mother can…was going to be there. But, so were my friends…so I went.
When we got there, I started to walk to the area everyone was in. But…as I walked up…I saw that woman…and I started to cry my eyes out…I was wandering in circles trying to convince myself not to flee…I was both frozen and ready to take flight. Someone I was friends with could tell I was upset…although neither of us could say why…so we just stuck together for the race and then went to get breakfast.
What I knew, even in that moment. I looked like a crazy woman. A crazy woman who wouldn’t even stop to talk to her friends, but just wandered around crying.
What I now understand, I was having a flashback.
I was already triggered by the move of my mother. Then…as I walk to my people…my life that I’d built for me…there was this woman…this blonde embodiment of my mother (to this day, I swear in EVERY way)…holding court in the center of my friends…my friends that I had already felt slipping alway…as they steadily slipped forward towards her.
In that moment, I was 10 years old again and I was losing everything. In that moment, I was 18 again and my job was on the line because she’d shown up and talked to my coworkers. I was 22 again and she was telling me she didn’t need a daughter, thus taking my little brother away. I was 24 and she was calling my fiance to tell him not to marry me.
In that moment, I was somewhere between that park and my childhood home.
In that moment, I was losing everything all over again.
In that moment, I was again a child who could only stumble around and search for a way out.
Understanding that…and applying it to other memories that suddenly make more sense…has made a huge difference for me. I no longer feel like I’m too emotional and dramatic.
I understand the strength it takes every time I stay and “finish the race.”
What used to be a point of shame is now a point of pride.
I think you’d be proud of me. I’ve been finding my way back to life lately.
Bella and I took that trip to Warped and…it kind of pushed me out of my fear. (I should probably mention that I found myself talking about you a lot that weekend. Like I was trying to bring you on the adventure and remind the world that you had lived and were loved.)
You can thank Lizzie for most of that. That “friend from the pit” who told me, “Everything is only scary the first time”. I know you know who I mean. After she convinced me that 46 years old was the perfect time for a first time crowd surfing experience (she was SO right!), she told me you were watching and you were so proud of me. I’m choosing to believe her. It sure felt like she was right. I really felt you there.
I don’t know if you saw the other two parts of that weekend that solidified my resolve to try to live again.
The first was literal moments after Bella, Jazzy and I went our separate ways the first time on Day 1. I made a beeline for Charity Circle (you know that’s how I roll). And, of course, my first stop was To Write Love On Her Arms. There were a man and a woman working the booth. I started looking at shirts and the lady came to talk to me. I told her,
“I need you to know that this was my first goal for the day. Finding this table. My daughter made an attempt almost 4 years ago. And, because of organizations like yours, she’s 19 now and thriving in a pit down the way. I always try to support your organization to give back. So I had seen you were here this weekend and knew I had to get over here. Plus…you know…no shipping on this shirt!”
I vaguely heard the man speak then, “How is she now?”
You know how when mens’ mouths open, I just assume they must be speaking to someone else? Yeah, I did that again. (In my defense, at least this one wasn’t asking me out like when I usually become completely oblivious. 😆)
So, he stepped in front of me. “How is she now?”
“Oh! Me?! Sorry! She’s doing so great. The first year after that was pretty rough. She got into some trouble. A lot of fighting. But…then I met this guy (his eyes light up) that I fell in love with (huge smile from dude)…and she loved him as much as I did…”
“That’s so great!”
“Yeah. I really feel like he changed everything for her. But then he passed away on New Years Eve (you should have seen his eyes)…so we’ve been kind of grieving…but this is our big planned trip and we’re here together…and…Jesus…I don’t know why I’m crying! I’m happy today! I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”
The look on his face…”You’re crying because it’s real life…and it’s really fucking hard. But I have to ask you…you’ve told me all about her…are YOU ok? Are you talking to someone? That’s a hell of a 4 year run.”
I have to tell you. That was the first moment I said it all in one breath. The first time, when I put it all together, someone looked at me with the pure compassion I never look at myself with. It woke me up like nothing had before that (this year lol). Like, “Holy shit. When I lay it all out like that…why have I been so hard on myself about not being able to “just smile and be happy”?
Seriously, it’s not a moment that I knew I needed until it happened. You know I hate pity and I’ve had to run from that a few times. But, this wasn’t pity. This was pure compassion and acknowledgement that I’ve survived an awful lot since 2021.
The other moment was on the way to the festival on Day 2. (Seriously, what ever happened to camping at the event?? Can you talk to someone up there about a new commandment coming down or something? Plzkthnxbai?)
We were waiting for the shuttle. (Stop laughing. Yes, I hate taking shuttles when I can walk perfectly well. We didn’t on Day 1. But none of us could walk by the end of Day 1. 😆) I started chatting with another woman who was waiting.
She was telling me that it was her first festival alone and that she was facing her fears head on. I told her that I got that and told her about you.
Her response floored me. “I’m so sorry. I get it. My boyfriend died 3 years ago in a plane crash.”
“I’m so sorry that you understand. I wish no one had to. It’s weird…everyone wants you to rejoin the world and be happy again and…”
“And you have no idea how to do that when you feel like you don’t even know who you are anymore and like life already passed you by.”
Ho.lee. shit. Seriously…I couldn’t believe I was hearing MY FEELINGS come out of this woman. She was maybe early 30s and absolutely drop dead gorgeous. All this time…I’ve been telling myself that I must be feeling these things because I’m older…I’m not in the shape I was….I wasn’t attractive anymore…and life had already passed me by. It turns out those feelings are normal and not indicative of me being on my way to being that urban legend widow in the woods.
Mind blown.
Anyways, sorry this is so long. It’s not MY fault I can’t text you all of this as it happens. 😛
So. That was Warped. Between those experiences and spending a weekend back in MY world…with MY music…and MY people…I decided I was determined to keep it going.
Since then I’ve been out with Amber (and didn’t even try to bail!), have been traveling for work and actually TALKING to people again…and…I went on a date.
I know you said you wanted me to. I hope you meant it. Because it feels like I’m betraying you. Even as I simultaneously find joy in life, it feels like a betrayal.
I honestly didn’t mean for it to happen. It was late…I was alone…and decided, “Ok. Everyone keeps telling me that Aaron wanted me to find Love again. I don’t believe that’s possible…but I’ll go window shopping for guys. No intent to purchase. Just see what’s on the racks these days.”
Baby. It’s ugly. I’m not even going to lie. I only responded to one person (and have, since, already hidden the profile from anyone I hadn’t already matched with). So. Many. Shirtless. Gym. Pics. Which reminds me, thank you for never being that guy.
I did get one message that made me proud. “You’re cute. More attitude than I’ll ever put up with again. But you’re cute.”
Stilllll got it. 😁 You know I love making lesser men cry. 😆
No! That wasn’t who I went out with. That one went right to trash after my little mental hair flip. 😆
But, like I said, I did get one message that made me do the intrigued head tilt. I decided to respond to him. We chatted for a day or so…and then I told him about you and told him that I meant it on my profile when I said I had no idea what I was doing other than window shopping. I kinda figured he’d run for the hills. He didn’t. He still, apparently, hadn’t. I’m assuming you understand that since you never ran…but it’s still feeling a little foreign to me. 😆 But…anyways…it was a really good date. Mexican and an arcade. (I know, right? Dude knows how to play to his audience!) And then a whole lot of talking. Honestly, you two would be friends. It was kind of weird how much you had in common. Lol
Will it go anywhere? God knows. (No, like really. Go ask him. You can do that now!) But I don’t know. Lol But I had fun. And I like him. So time will tell.
But, that led to a whole new situation with Bella. She had told me she wanted me to get out there and even date. She fully supported me going out with him.
Aaron, I hope you know how much that girl of ours loves you.
She was panicking that I wasn’t home. She kept texting and calling to make sure I wasn’t dead. To be honest, I thought she was just being Bella. I didn’t realize the depth of what was happening with her that night. And I’m kind of ashamed of it. Like maybe I don’t deserve the “mom” in the dot Com.
When I talked to her the next day, she was pretty pissed off at me. But, being Bella, didn’t really want to talk about it for about another 12 hours.
After that, she came to me and asked about my date. But…you know how I read the emotions in the room…she was asking because she thought she should, but she wasn’t comfortable with the conversation. So, I asked her if she was really sure that she was ok with me dating. She swore that she was but admitted that it was weird. “Because it’s not Aaron?” “Yeah.” “I get it. It’s weird for me, too. Are you SURE you don’t need me to wait longer?”
“I’m positive, but…maybe next time check in more before I start to panic. I was really convinced you were going to die.”
I was shocked. You know how purposely hyperbolic she is sometimes. I thought that’s what she was doing the night before.
No. Apparently, Bella has been afraid that I wouldn’t come home since the day you didn’t.
She promises she’s been talking to her therapist about this, but I’m worried. She’s been holding all of her grief in. Refusing to talk about it except with her therapist. And I’ve tried to respect that. And, in doing so, missed this very big thing.
So, we made a plan. She wants me to continue to date. But I’m going to be checking in more intentionally…and I’m not going to bring anyone around until she’s more comfortable with it. These both felt like very fair commitments to make.
So, yeah…I’m living. And, as I remembered, life is messy…but also pretty glorious when you let it be.
But now…the real reason I’m writing this long ass missive tonight.
It’s December.
Tomorrow it will be a year since they told you you were terminal.
In two weeks it will be a year since the last time you were home with me.
Christmas will be your birthday and a year since I got to see you conscious and speak to you in person.
And New Years Eve…yeah.
I’m going to do my best not to let the month of anniversaries derail me. I’m going to keep trying to see friends. I’m going to be present with Bella for the holidays. And, yes, I’m going to go out with him again if he asks.
I’m going to try to honor you by living the life you asked me to live.
But sometimes…on nights like tonight…it hurts. And I miss you.
And I just really hope you’re not mad at me up in Heaven.
Because, yes… I’m still the “Are you mad at me???” girl. Some things never change. 😆
Ok, first…you guys…I just broke chat gpt. I asked it to create an image of Jesus walking across a raging river. Next to Jesus should be a bridge also crossing the river. It couldn’t even process. It just kept spinning and spinning and spinning.
Yep. I broke chat gpt. I’m kind of stupid proud of this. 😆😆
Want to know WHY I was trying to create this? Then read on!
So, the other day, my daughter (who is wading into the horrors that is online dating) joked to me about not being…I don’t remember what word she used but, basically,… malleable.
In one of those epic parenting moments that you’re not even trying for, I just told her to add to her profile:
“I’m the raging river, not the bridge. Trying to walk over me is just going to hurt you. Unless you’re Jesus. (If you’re Jesus, call me! *finger phone*)”
She laughed at me and told me there’s something wrong with me.
I mean… yeah, but what’s that got to do with anything?
I stand by what I said.
I raised a daughter who is, God bless her, just like me… but more confident. So… all of my ways of thinking about things (both the serious and the quirky), but 💯 ready to speak those thoughts as loudly as she wants.
Which is great. But we’re also not going to make any man happy who likes meek quiet women. It’s just not going to happen.
Because we’re not bridges to be walked over.
We’re the raging river that will hurt you if you try.
It’s been almost 6 months since I felt any real urge to be anywhere but my bed.
Last night, for the first time since Aaron passed, I started having this feeling of,
“Ok, enough is enough. Aaron would be ashamed of me for giving up on life.”
This morning, I woke up with energy…ready to get some shit done.
And I actually did.
I completely cleaned my entire room… you guys, I even dusted the ceiling and did a COMPLETE rearrangement of my furniture.
And, other than it being a Georgia summer and me being a middle-aged woman with hot flashes, I didn’t lose steam 5 minutes in and return to my hole. I stayed in that mood.
Now…cleaning isn’t exactly fun, but what is fun is that first feeling of life in a long time. I know I’m NOWHERE near the end of this grief roller-coaster, and tomorrow could be another major dip, but…
Let me preface this blog. I wrote a different blog earlier. That blog is now deleted at my daughter’s, rather reasonable, demand. You’ll see why.
I, halfway jokingly, often say that I don’t have a passive-aggressive bone in my body. All my bones are aggressive. 😂
But, truly, I believe that communication can save most true friendships and relationships.
Lack of communication will kill them dead.
Does absolutely every blessed thought you have need to be said out loud? Absolutely not. Please don’t do that. Ever. Bad things, man. Bad, bad things. (Ask me how I know.)
But, if something is really bothering you or, worse, bothering you for multiple days? Say something.
If you don’t, you’re running the obvious risk of eventually snapping.
Moreover, you’re assuming that you’re right.
You are literally sitting there obsessing or hurting over something that someone you love said or did…that you potentially misunderstood.
Do you always misunderstand? Hell no. And if someone is trying to make you believe that you’re *always* misunderstanding, JUMP SHIP. That’s called gaslighting. We’re all wrong sometimes, sweetheart. We’re also all right sometimes.
ANYWAYS…This is one of my quirks. I do obsess and let things fester if I don’t handle things in one very particular way.
I write it down. Maybe here. Maybe in a notebook. Maybe ranting in a text to a friend. Maybe in a private Facebook group of very close friends. I get it out.
After I get it out, I try to push it to the side. If it goes away easily, I was just reacting out of gut instinct…but I’ve realized I’m not quite on the right side of it. (This result happens more often than not.) If it keeps coming back, I need to move to step 3.
Calmly (always wait until calmly) tell the person that I want to explain to them why I seemed…whatever it was that I seemed in the moment…I’ve been told my eyes give me away every time, so they already knew. Tell them, “I really don’t believe that you meant this this way.” (Remember, this is someone I love and trust, so I don’t believe they mean to hurt me.) “But, when you said this…I heard this…and it really hurt.”
This can go two ways. Either they listen, and you communicate and clear the air. Or they refuse to listen and get angry…and you should reflect on why you trust this person with your emotions (or they’ll just dip, which…much to my chagrin, I have to admit…was probably them doing you a favor in the end).
I trust more accurately these days, and I’ve never been a person who will pretend.
If I don’t like you, you will know I don’t really like you. I don’t have tolerance for fake. I’ll also always be kind and would give you the shirt off my back…but you’ll still know I don’t like you. I don’t know any other way to be.
But if I DO like you, then our relationship is more important to me than my pride. It’s more important than any potential hurt feelings. I know that not communicating, even when I’m hurt, is death to the relationship.
Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t exactly my most endearing quality, even to those who love me…but they accept it because they understand. If I’m coming to you to tell you that you hurt me…then I trust you and love you enough to be vulnerable. That simple.
WELL. Here comes the prior blog part. (Excited? Did I build it up enough? It’s like when you’re just trying to find out how to make fried chicken. You have to read about someone’s first marriage and how that bastard cheated before you can get to the recipe. No? Just me? ANYWAY….moving on…)
I had a feeling today that I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced before. I honestly don’t even have a name for it. Maybe…Sapiness? Not like, “I’m being sappy”. But a simultaneous feeling of happiness and sadness. (Hapness? Ha-penis? Tried to find a word…found that a common word is an insult to some dude’s small peen…)
Good God, I didn’t take my Adderall today.
I was hanging out with Bella. She is my 19 year old daughter, for those of you who haven’t known me for years. I was talking to our (Aaron’s) big fat orange boy kitty (that says it all, right?), Excatibur (Exi for short…The King’s Blade…). I was telling him how much his daddy had loved him. I then looked at Bella and said that I missed him.
Here’s where things get screwy.
She said, “Oh”.
What’s funny is I then wrote a blog. A blog about ALLLLLLLLLLL the different uses of the word “Oh” and how every use carries a different punch. I…ummmmmm…haven’t drank the wrong punch like this since a bad frat party in college.
I took the “oh” to mean, “Can we end this conversation. I am uncomfortable.” Now…to my credit, I was right. Girl does NOT do feelings. What I misunderstood was what came after.
I’m 46 years old. Sometimes, I think my hearing is just not what it used to be. LOL
I asked Bella if she had talked to her counselor at all about Aaron. “A little.” OK…”Are you kind of feeling like you’re over it?”
WHAT I HEARD: “Uh-Huh.”
WHAT SHE SAID: “Nuh-uh.”
I mean…I thought she said she was over losing him.
I was…sappy? had? I don’t know, but I was something. I was THRILLED that she was feeling so centered with everything. My first reaction was to be happy that she was doing well. My second feeling was sadness. Sadness that I was truly alone in my grief now. Sadness that Aaron had been so easy for her to move passed. Sadness that I would hold our memories of him alone now.
So. I wrote it down. I wasn’t angry. Just to be clear. I was filled with…hadness?
I wrote it all down. I re-read it a few times over the next few hours because it was still weighing on me.
I asked her if she wanted to come talk (we’ve been a little snappy with each other today…).
She walks in. “Yes?”
“Do you want me to explain why I’ve been…whatever…for the past few hours?”
“Sure…”
“I’m really happy that you’re doing so well. But it made me a little sad, too, to know that you’re over Aaron’s passing.”
“WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! WHEN DID I SAY THAT?!?!?!” (We embrace all words in this house. 😂)
“Well…when I was saying I miss Aaron…and you said, “Oh”…and I could tell you didn’t want to talk about it…so I asked about therapy…and you said you’ve talked about him “a little” which made me think you don’t need to talk about it anymore…so I asked if you were over it and you said, ‘Uh-huh.'” (The Blog Gods are yelling at me for a run on sentence, but I really do speak in run-on sentences when I’m nervous.)
“I said, ‘Nuh-uh.'”
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh….” ~ #Whoopsiedoodle
“YOU’VE BEEN MAD AT ME FOR HOURS FOR SOMETHING I DIDN’T EVEN SAY???? Bitch…”
Yeah…I kinda deserved that….
Yay, Communication! Go Team! *cartwheel* *jazzhands*
*Jazz Hands* Mom 