Nah, I lied. It’s not 4:03. It’s 4:23. But close enough for me. Guess I’ve been singing that Shinedown song too much.
Not so sure, though, if the poblem is that it is four in the morning or that it is the sixth of February. The day I got the message for which I had waited for sixteen years. First contact from you. Do you remember my reply?
Huh? I am nearly in tears.
And your response?
So am I. I don’t even know where to begin…
And you know, from the beginning, there was a phrase you repeated over and over and over. A phrase that, as a Special Education Inclusion English teacher I should have seen as foreshadowing:
No more time for lies, baby girl.
And yet, that’s all it was a time for, wasn’t it? Lies, lies, and more lies.
(My failure to recognize the foreshadowing explains, I suppose, why I am the Special Education teacher, right?)
My head is pounding again.
I am so annoyed. For the past month, maybe, I had been doing really well. I wasn’t crying everyday or anything. Then that stupid migraine. And then my sister being so upset. And now: 6 February. Oh this sucks, and I am sure that Valentine’s day will probably be unfun, too. No great story to read, over which to sigh and smile as my heart flutters.
Then will come 7 March. Fucking-A. Happy Anniversary, Baby, got you on my mind – thank you, Little River Band.
Could someone please just come knock me out so I can sleep through the next month??
I am running out of pain meds for the pounding in my head that never seems to truly stop…my ativan is running low for my erratic heartbeat…my body is running down from lack of good sleep…my eyes are frequently swollen from the tears I am again shedding — even in my sleep. I hate waking up to a wet pillow.
Well. I can handle it. And I will be fine. This next month will be the bad patch, I think, then I will be okay again. I mean, hell, I’ve done this (lived in limbo without you) for more years than I haven’t (thirty-three, actually, and I’m only forty-seven), so I can make it through the rest, I suppose.
I just have to get through the next month without cracking up again…and considering what I have managed to get through already, a month should be easy-peezy.
If only I can avoid any thought of you whatsoever and if I can sleep past 4:03 more nights than not. Damn Shinedown for putting that time in my head!!
Why don’t I just hate you and not think of you?
Oh wait. Again, there’s the answer:
I‘m Special Ed.
That explains it all, doesn’t it?
Gotta go. The pain meds are calling to me….