Thank you for all your kind comments over on LJ. I appreciate it very much.
Today was a good day to take off.
I'd wound up doing 4k yesterday and getting to 20k in Deadshifted overall.
After finding out my best friend's other best friend had been murdered last night, I honestly wasn't feeling much like writing much today. So I went to breakfast alone this morning, and then got up and poked at things, but mostly started talking to people, and then Jenn Reese, Ian Tregillis, and I went with Tobias Buckell for him to get a freelanceiversary tattoo.
It wound up being good for me. One on one talking with other cool people is the remedy for a lot of things as it turns out. Some other people had some parallel experiences with sudden loss that were good to hear. And just to be out living and being alive, as trite as it sounds, was a good distraction to have.
It isn't that I don't want to think about it, it's just that thinking about it still feels sickening. As a writer I can imagine what her last minutes of life must have been like so clearly it hurts. I don't want to really think about it without my posse of local friends who knew her around -- and who'd get the second, smaller punch, that it happened in your hometown, some place I have always, always felt safe at. Now, I freaking want to move away.
Anyhow. I don't want to be the goth while I'm here. And I'm not sure where to assign things yet. I'm reallllllly good at compartmentalizing. I'm realllllly good at forging on. I see bad stuff all the time at work. This is different, because it's someone I know, but I'm tough. For good or for bad, I'm tough. (I work on the hardest floor in the hardest hospital, heh.) [I'm only now realizing, with the help of therapy, that I'm oftentimes far tougher than I have to be -- that frequently the kind of tough that was required of me at prior times in my life and as a kid was vastly unfair, and that sometimes it's good to admit that you're not tough, at least to the right people in certain situations. See also: asking for help, and admitting ignorance.] So I'm okay now, for now. There's a lot of opportunities to feel alone-not-alone here. Which is good. There's people to listen, but also space to breathe.
And so Toby got his awesome tattoo, and we all went out to dinner, and then came home, and there was more hanging out, and this is probably the most social I've been in a month, and my throat's sore from all the talking now.
I'm gonna go to bed now and crash out. I believe tomorrow will be another writing day. But it's OK if it's not.