There are bombings all over the world in the last few days. People are dying from no reason bigger than hatred that some people think differently.
There was an earthquake in Japan.
I’m… at Knott’s Berry Farm. Well, I was.
And now I’m rocking and crying. Today was horribly triggering. But it feels so very selfish and stupid and petty. God, my whole life is pretty fucking ridiculous these days. Yeah, it will take a whole book to figure out why this trip was worth this for me.
We get home in seven days. I’m triggered as all fuck. This place is hurting me.
We had a wonderful day. I completely held it together. I mediated like a god damn champ when they had a hard time.
And now I’m rocking and hurting because keeping it together today was so god damn hard.
That’s where my father used to finger me. I haven’t been there in more than ten years. I actually come to SoCal pretty frequently. I choose to not go there most of the time.
That’s my mood right now.
I think that I’m going to finally find the motivation to get the money from my father’s money that the state is holding. It has waited a lot of years. I think I’m ready to take my payment for what he put me through.
I don’t think the kids know how upset I was. I think I did well. They both gushed all the way back to the hotel about how absolutely fantastic today went. And I really agree.
But there is that part of me and this part of me and today I realized that I… completely missed the anniversaries this year. I think this is the first year I’ve ever just sailed right the fuck past them without noticing.
Am I who I thought I would be by 33?
Is my daddy still the monkey on my back?
What the fuck did I learn out in the Wild Wild West? Oh. Lots.
Hungry for a life I’m not ready to begin.
But it’s time to start anyway.
What does it mean. How forking shallow is it. I don’t know. I don’t know.
You know, it is fucking awesome that I learned how to cry completely silently a long time ago. Otherwise this crying in the room with the kids thing would be pretty fucking awkward.
I’m sorry James. I had to.
I hurt. I shouldn’t be typing nor looking down. And I should be sleeping.
But crying alone is hard. Thank you for keeping me company, internet. I love you.
Noah. I have so many stories.
My fingers hurt.
Must haz self control. Seven more days.
It was really hard going through layer after layer of memories of my father. I think they have substantially changed the area where he used to sit me on his lap. I want to write more. The basic allusion to this is in the book. But oh.my.god I could give a lot more details. Especially right this moment.
I’m having some really really really really really really really big feelings. And I have to just calm right the fuck back down and go to sleep. Tomorrow I have work to do. It is not yet time for me to rest. Only seven more days.