October 13, 2013
Last night was not good. The evening was good, but the night was not. Friends were doing a cabaret, and that was good. But then I got home and went to bed. Or rather, I went to bed. I wasn’t at home. I was upstairs at my parents’ house, in my old bedroom.
Now, for the record, my old bedroom is not still my old bedroom. We have renamed the two rooms upstairs. They are the Room Formerly Known as Mine and the Room Formerly Known as My Brother’s. There are still beds in both rooms, but they no longer mainly function as bedrooms. My old room is the sewing room. That’s also the room that my parents’ old double bed is in. It is the guest room of choice. So I was in my old bedroom, but I was not sleeping (or not not sleeping) in my old bed. (My old bed now happens to live in my brother’s old room. His old bed? Can’t remember if it went to Goodwill or trash pick-up. It was a water bed. Enough said.)
We’d planned this. Last week, my mom kind of sprang on me the idea of us staying at my parents’ for Saturday night. And I kind of panicked. Just a little. So we decided that this week would be better. Advanced notice, you know. So I knew this was coming. But still…
I wasn’t tired yet when I got back around 10:45 yesterday evening, so I read for a while. And when I felt like I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, I turned off the light and rolled over. And that’s when I lost it. I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to be home. I left Sofia there. All alone. How could I do that to her? I did fight the urge to jump out of bed, run downstairs to my parents’ room, and say that I had to go home. But I thought about it.
And eventually? Eventually I turned the light back on and read some more as I tried to stop crying. It was past midnight when I finally turned the light back off and well past midnight when I finally fell asleep. About three hours later, I woke up and went to the bathroom. I don’t know how long it took before I fell back asleep. I woke up around 7:30 and did not want to even try to sleep anymore. I made coffee and curled up on the chair in the ell and read until my mom finally got up an hour later.
My mom considers this a big step. This spending the night away thing. It doesn’t feel like a big step. It feels horrid. If it’s a big step, then it’s in the wrong direction. I don’t want to do it again. Ever. Maybe if I’d brought Sofia with me it would have been better. I don’t know. But I do know I haven’t cried this hard in weeks. And that I can’t stop. That I start to feel okay and then I think of nothing in particular and start to cry again. And I feel guilty, not just for leaving Sofia all alone all night, but because my mom and dad haven’t spent the night together since Sofia died. And that’s not fair to them. And I don’t know if it was the fact that I was alone without Sofia or that I was alone without my mom that made last night so hard. Whatever it was, it was more than I was ready to handle.
But maybe this means that I’m ready to be home more now. Again, I don’t know. I don’t know how I’m supposed to know. I don’t know anything anymore.