Very drained

Today marks the second anniversary of my Uncle Andy’s death. I guess I hadn’t realized it until mid-way through the day, but this knowledge seemed to match a lot of the day’s activities. All mom was trying to do was talk to me about something (not even directly related to me), and it brought on a tidal wave of emotions that I wasn’t at all prepared for. We began talking about things I haven’t talked to anyone about in years, and, of course, I cried. I cried about past hurts relived. I cried about things that I didn’t know were worthy of tears. I cried, and then I laughed at myself because I was crying. Stupid, stupid hormones! In the end, it did make me feel better having had the conversation, having cried the tears. I feel like talking to my mom and knowing she has had similar thoughts has made me feel like I am not quite as insane as first thought—which is sort of depressing, since I was blaming my problems on insanity. If I’m not insane, then the things I’ve been feeling are normal…. I don’t buy that, either.

I’m very tired, so I’m going to get ready for bed.