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Everything Changes.

Not more than an hour after I posted my last entry, everything changed.

My husband came home, and asked if I had gotten a call from a Cleveland number on my phone. I had, but I was on the other line with my sister, and it wasn't from the usual area code, so I didn't answer. So, they called my husband instead (he's third on the list of people to call, and my sister also had not answered the call). The call was from a transplant coordinator at the Clinic. They were calling to tell us that they had accepted a liver for my mom, and she would be going into surgery the very next day. I was beside myself. I felt guilty for not answering the call, but also remembered how I wasn't going to feel guilty about things like that anymore. I called my brother, who immediately broke out in tears, and he told my sister, who also started crying.

The next day, the coordinator called me at 7am, to let me know that the time of surgery was scheduled for 9pm on Tuesday. My husband had rearra…

Be Honest.

I went out to breakfast with my dad today. He had a vintage vanity that my sister was giving to me; I love everything about the vanity, so I wasn't going to let her just get rid of it. So my dad packed it into the back of his big ridiculous truck, and waited for a day that Kurt and I would be able to lug the damn thing up the stairs. We celebrated with various eggs and breakfast meats.

I called to get an update on my mom, as I do every day around mid day, and sometimes in the evening. I got a nurse today I had never spoken to; he had a very deep, matter-of-fact voice. I asked how she was doing, and he said she was stable, and about the same as before. Then, out of nowhere, he said, "you know, she's just going to be like this until she gets her liver. We're keeping her stable so that she can do that. But she's not going to improve until the transplant happens."

And for a goddamned second, that stung. But almost immediately, I appreciated his honesty.

My mom ha…

Thoughts.

I don't cry much. I've always felt the need to appear like I always have it together.

I was thinking about my mom last night. She's been laying in the hospital for a few weeks, again. I haven't seen my mom outside of a hospital room more than a handful of times this year. Things are getting worse before they're getting better.

I thought about how I haven't been able to go to my mom's house to pick her up and take her for a drive. We missed the farmer's market in Barberton this year. We didn't go to Amish Country to see the giant Cuckoo Clock. She got to see the seasons change from either windows on the 10th floor in downtown Cleveland, or from the screen of my phone.

There have only been glimpses, brief moments of the outdoors. Otherwise, it's all indoors. In a bed.

I cried the kind of tears that come from really deep within. Those grief tears. Those tears where even if you try and stop them, they keep coming.

I really needed to cry like that.

Feeding What Hurts.

Yesterday was my first food centered holiday since making peace with myself.

I had dinner with my best friend and her family. We've been friends for a really long time, and have similar hurts. We've been discussing our pasts in really raw terms, and it has been immensely healing and helpful for me to be able to open up like that. So, what better way to celebrate than eating homemade comfort foods. I got a little bit of each and picked through it while we watched Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. I had a piece of pie. I ate too much spinach dip.

But I didn't leave feeling too full while simultaneously feeling empty. I didn't have to endure attacks on my weakest parts being disguised as kind hearted joking. We ate, we laughed, we talked a little when our husbands were downstairs, and we had a good time.

I've always struggled with the holidays, because of my family dynamic. We've always been poor, so holidays became just another day a long time ago. Even as adults…

Things I'd Like To Be Writing About (once the funk lifts)

Writing is always the first thing to go to the wayside when I'm in a major funk. Depression is stupid, and adjusting to new meds is even more stupid.

So, when I'm ready, this is what I want to write about:

Malls (history, architecture, the death of the third place, personal stories that may feature Rolling Acres Mall the most)

Cannabis (personal anecdotes, medicinal use, cannabis tourism)

Mental Health (living with PTSD, what happens when I find myself triggered, what works, what doesn't)

Music and Pop Culture

SNL (I watch faithfully every Sunday morning, have for a long time)

I find myself wanting to blog again, because nobody reads blogs. But that doesn't mean that we have to stop writing, does it?

Quick Chicago Trip Wrap-Up

Our trip to Chicago was successful. We split an AirBnB with my friend Glen and his wife. We stayed in an area close to the Empty Bottle, since the show we were going to was there on Friday night. We also went to a bigger festival that Saturday night, after a great breakfast, and then a lot of record stores, music stores, and a bit of photography. Our roomies were a lot of fun, and the shows were great. I'm glad we could figure out a trip out of Ohio. And it always rules to be able to see The Hold Steady two nights in a row.

I also got to see two incredible malls. On the way home from Chicago, I was able to stop at Concord Mall in Elkhart, IN. The mall is notable for two things: the incredible closed Carson's wing, with all the wood paneling and dark colors, and for it being the mall of my longtime friend, Absurdist Writer and Lunchables Connoisseur, Jon Konrath.
It was cool to be inside of a mall that was so significant to someone that I know. I got a bunch of photos, and wi…

Everything Good Can Be Bad.

I feel like i've made a breakthrough in my own writing.

I have lived a life that is full of situations and people that make for great stories. I've run around with bands, broken into buildings, stayed the night with strangers from the internet,  things like that, and the stories I come up with are always hilarious.

But with some of the other stories (which are also good), I struggle with telling them, because in telling them, I look like an asshole. And I'm not comfortable with that, so I just don't tell the story, or I tell them in a way that comes off as defensive. And I don't want to be defensive anymore.

Over the past eight years, I have gone through some insanely tough restructuring of my life, and how I live within it. And during that time, there were some situations where yes, I was in the wrong, and yes, I acted like a total asshole. I've been the other woman. I've used people. I've lied a lot, because it was less painful than telling the truth…