It hurts and I can't imagine how much Melissa hurts right now. I can sort of get a grip on it because of Lana and what Barrett did, because the best friend for over fifteen years and on-again-off-again lover status encapsulates both though only one was a vicious "Oh yeah? Well take that!" and the other almost apologetic.
But both were due to chemical brain depressive states. And both left behind some very traumatized people and goddammit there wasn't anything we could have said that would have stopped her. I offered her a home and said we could figure out the cats and so did Melissa. It makes me want to slap her.
It's hard as well because I'm very angry at the thefts and now it has to be pushed to the side. I purchased a travel size medication safe that arrived today and it shows how upset I am that I'd do so after all this time. But it's really obvious and I just can't risk it getting even worse. It's just adding to my stress levels which causes me to become more ill and I just need to let it go, at least for now.
I don't know when the funeral will happen. I'm sort of hoping Tracy and Jerry can take me since they met her during one of her visits with Melissa bringing me the dogs when I was in hospital. But I don't know how to even begin to broach it when I don't know when or where it will be. My chest hurts. Of course.
James and I had an adventure filled day that included me doing more than I should. Of course. But we made it to Baskin-Robbins though I never did have a bowl of my mint chocolate chip ice cream after my decaf mocha coffeelatto or whatever it was.
We also started a new salad Aerogarden tonight together. Tomorrow we will do the other two - clean up and fix what we can and replace what we can't. Also setting up my new chair I caved in and paid for to assist me in my core exercises for PT back work. He's also said he's very much looking forward to aiding me in the sorting and selling of what can be sorted, sold, donated or trashed. I hope he means it because everybody _says_ they wanna. But here we are and I'm still hoping.
I guess Sunday, today, will maybe show how much it's real and not just wishful thinking. Should I sell the rocker-recliner? I'd like not to. But why hang on to it? In storage it's just a haven for insects and mice. Or maybe even squirrels. I don't know. It's like the washer and dryer. I'm not getting what they're worth and if I'm lucky enough to get disability and even back "pay" I'd love to put it toward a small house and replacing an $1800 set for a mere song isn't bloody likely. But that thinking brings me full circle back to Diane.
And my cheat begins to hurt again. I feel incredibly sick and miserable. Of course.