On the LUAS. I love looking around and imagining other people’s lives. The girl who just got off the phone, Dunnes bag on her lap, asked, presumably her boyfriend, there’s no rings, “Is he asleep?”. I guess she’s hoping to get in the door to a glass of wine and no screaming baby. Dad with teenage daughter who just told him, in a very loud voice, that he was annoying her. I know what I’d do with her.
Everyone seems to be on their phone, even the decidedly dowdy (well I’m sorry, but she is!) middle aged lady (please god her peripheral vision’s not great, at her age…) is using an iPhone: glasses on nose, using her index finger. I’m also on my phone: didn’t I complain about that earlier?
Today’s been a funny old day. I don’t really know what I’m doing with my time, the days seem to be slipping by in a haze of ok-ness. Not terrible, not amazing but grand like. Where did the whole “like” thing come from? How did South Dublin end up sounding like California? And why do “country” people use “like” so much, but in a completely different way to D4 Heads?
“Sure it’s fuckin’ grand like, leave it so.”
“He was, like, so looking at you, like, Saoirse!”
Beg you can guess who’s the culchie and who hangs out in Dundrum in Uggs.
I did make some calls this morning about Illness Benefit and certs for work, so that was productive. And not PanicPuke inducing.
And I went to Pieta. It wasn’t too bad. But the guilt thing is still there. Although I’ve stopped apologising for wasting her time. I don’t feel I really dealt with what I needed to deal with today. I absolutely can’t afford avoidance in these sessions. They aren’t infinite. I mentioned it to my PietaLady at the end, “Make me come back to the thing that happened”, why can’t I even name it? I’m so terrified and ashamed of the word.
I don’t want to see the letters beside each other, joined up into a chain around my wrists, rusting in the wet grass, creaking with my bones, scraping against my memory locks.
I can’t look at the pictures in my head.
I spoke to a friend about it tonight. He says I still play it down. “At least it wasn’t very violent”; “I’m lucky really”. His reaction touched me. He has a good, strong heart and a brain the size of China’s ambition to rule the world. I’m so grateful he came into my life. I have tears in my eyes thinking of his words of encouragement. The Good Doctor.
I feel very lucky. People keep saying they admire me. I admire them for giving their hope and love and kindness to me. Monet and Posh were on too, checking in, being sweethearts, as everyday.
I don’t know if I’m crying because I’m sad, lonely, relieved, loved or just pre-menstrual. Where’s that chocolate?
I had some serious giggles with a top secret online girls only commune today too. So a big shout out to all those in there who have offered blog following and misandry (not really, we’re too fond of the boys) as well as words of support that only women know how to package up in a warm little bundle of sisterly solidarity.
Also, Jamie Heaslip totally checked me out. Well he looked at me. While stuffing his face. He even looks good doing that. Oh Jamie. I tweeted him, guess what, he didn’t tweet me back. #brokenhearted #hisloss