Friday, January 30, 2009


I officially can't take it. Officially.

There have been two deaths in the HumRRO family this week, one an employee, the other the father of an employee and a friend. I don't know if my friend expected her father to die. I know he had been ill. The employee who passed was in a hospice situation, otherwise known as waiting for death. And while not surprizing, the loss of life is still a shock to my psyche.

So I'll be starting off Superbowl Sunday with a funeral. One more reason to go to someone's house for the game... make myself be social. Make myself sit next to someone. Force small talk. Force myself not to weep.

Then I read a blog post of someone dear to my heart, and like the little stinker writer she is, she pokes her finger into my softest spot and relays her results like a champ: "A love that can stand up straight, won’t bump its head on conditions, run into glass walls. A love that won’t drown in miscommunication, in things left unsaid. A love that can handle a good fight, a love that realizes fighting for each other is the best kind of fighting, even if things get messy now or then, even if it seems too late in the game."

And that just does it. That's it for me. Sanity, signing off.

Can't take it. Can't take the idea that it's my own effing conditions, it's my own freaking glass walls... me me me, my stopping myself, me taking down the possibilities and sorting them into all the ways it'll go wrong. All the while it's still me looking into faces and asking is it you? Can you hear me? Do you understand me? Is anybody out there?

I'm pretty sure I'm not.

I'm curled in a ball in my bed, sobbing until I can't breathe, wracking my brain for a way out of this downward spiral. I'm scaring the cat.


  1. Damn, Shelly. I'm sorry. Words fail me. Sending love...

  2. *sigh* It was a one-two-punch followed by a 2x4 over the head. Eventually I do stop crying. Now I feel like someone has been punching me in the face.

    I suppose we all can wallow in our own grief. I just wish I could stop the running film of past lovers in my head. Wish I could take time back.

  3. You're not scaring the stinker writer. I wish I could take time back too, honey.

    Sending big love, a little slow on this, forgive me. I was scaring my dogs. xoxo