My body is not a graveyard
So this is how I shall be ending my year. My darling is currently snoozing in the break room at work due to being sick (again) so there shall be no New Years kisses tonight. Not that I mind, at least the first New Years we get to spend together I'll get a lot of kisses. Thinking back I spent last New Years Eve just as tonight, at home, with the family, mostly alone once the little man is asleep. It's how I like it though; transitions such as this require some alone-time.
Though I haven't been posting much lately, my mind and body have still been pondering over things quite fervently. I have grown a little paranoid of unwanted eyes reading these texts, and thus have kept my mouth shut. Or rather, my fingers. December went by really quickly, to be honest. Starting out with an exam week and then the kick-start of a new school period, then paddling on to dance recitals and work shifts (tiring, very tiring, but pretty nice) and then bam, it was Christmas. A new sort of Christmas once again. I've been feeling very guilty spending the holidays with this half of my family only. Not that taking the other half into account would be possible - I do not see a way in which it would be - but I must admit I felt very very guilty, for numerous reasons. The fact that I couldn't afford a present for basically anyone (the presents that I did get were sponsored by my mother) was among the least important.
What ate at me most was the absence of my father, and my reluctance and inability to deal with this fact as it was, after all, a voluntary parting on my side. However much I move on with everything else there is that big bubble inside, full of questions, anger, disappointment, guilt. To tell you the truth I feel as though I have murdered somebody. Memories, good ones, are dying, numbed out by fluctuations in medication (I forget to take them) or just put away somewhere voluntarily. Every now and then I remember things, little things, and it shocks me like an unexpected needle. My therapy process has been put on hold, for a change. I haven't cut, and I hope to keep it that way. My eating-disorder bug is back inside my mind again, though. It is scary.