Whiplash

Hey there. There's too much to post, so you're all going to have to wait. I went to the Ranch and it was amazing and beautiful and awe-inspiring and I'm writing a LONG ass piece/blog with lots of pictures - because I took over 1,000. That's right. I didn't add any extra zeros. Paul and Mom can attest to that. I had an absolutely exclastic time.

Then I came back and it was Paul and I's anniversary. It was really good. We ate at CopperGate (beware of clicking the link if you don't want to see nudes...their theme is boobies). Anyway, it was rocking Scandinavian food with beautiful vodka. But I couldn't separate the fact that Rich died on that same day. Before, I was thinking since he died at 1 am I could remember his death on the 10th and Paul and I's anniversary on the 9th. I want to separate the two, but I can't. They're linked too closely, intertwined.

I had a pretty bad night last night. I got really wrankled at the bar and freaking irritated with everything. Everything. So I told Paul I wanted to just go home. I was so tired and weighed down with what felt like a lead vest. So I sequestered myself in my room, not wanting to talk or speak or be within 10 feet of ANYONE. And I thought about Blogging his eulogy I gave him last year, but didn't even want that amount of connection with others. So I brooded and mulled and waded a bit through my head. Then I finally fell asleep.

I felt better this morning. I loved biking in, did it in 30 minutes, 3 minutes off my best time (27 min) and I wasn't even super trying. It was great. Work was work. I had some moments after Lilly (Rich's ex) called and talked about him and Clio (his daughter). Grumpy a bit this afternoon. Still off. Angry. Leadened. Sad. Frustrated. Non-emotional, a little blank. Not ever present or intense.

Paul called it a coalescing of something that was always under the surface. He said it has scarred me for the rest of my life, and that's not a bad thing. Our parting was so tumultuous that it's hard and it hurts. It's not clear cut how I feel. There are all these random thoughts that completely contradict each other, like "I'm sorry." and "I love you" and "Why the fuck?" and "You pitiful bastard left your only child alone in this world....you left me." And somehow that hurts a lot, even though I left him and I hurt him...blah blah blah. Upshot of this blathering is that I'm subtly emotionally fubar'ed right now. At that place where you can't even decipher what you feel enough to experience that emotion and let it go. BLERG. Icky-poo.

And this right after an amazing rejuvenating sublime long weekend at the Ranch. I'm a little bit in whiplash.