Apr. 30th, 2011

Just had a thought which is making me laugh a little through the tears.

I wound up quite insistent about getting my mother's name put on the gravestone, because it had been several years and I wanted her visibly remembered and such.

I just realised there was an element of selfishness there. Because at the time, I was verging on suicidal. It's only now that I can look back and say, "oh. I wanted some reassurance that, if nothing else, my name would be on a stone somewhere."

I'm doing better now. I still have bad days, and I'm a lazy besom, but it's actually kind of frightening to think about how far I am from where I used to be, mentally.

Of course, right now I'm not fresh from looking at jobs, courses, or finances, which all get me down. Even then, though, my future may be murky, but at least it exists. I'm going to keep making things. I'll write, every so often. I'm going to be an aunt, how weird and cool.

And I'm not living from event to event, the way I used to. ("can't kill myself before K's wedding, G's birthday, can't mess up Christmas...")

I'm just living. And that's OK.



June 2012

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