Well, it's been a while since I wrote. We went to BC to see the new house. Tim hadn't seen it yet, and we took Evan. It was a mixed bag. We didn't plan very well, and ended up having to buy a few necessities to get us through the week. We stayed at the house, which has a few guests, it appears. Bugs. Whatever, apparently they're normal. Evan was as good as a bored 3 year old could be, really. And even then, we found our patience wearing thin and yelling too much. He spent some time with Colby and Tyler, but we neglected to arrange anything concrete. And here Tracy was planning to make Evan a birthday cake etc... And now this week is Evan's actual birthday, and I've fucked it all up again. A good friend of ours was waiting to hear from me about the birthday plans, and since I didn't get back to her, now we're having a mediocre party at the mall, not at all what I really wanted, but it's my fault anyway, so whatever. I hate how this is all going. I feel like people are trying so hard to do what I want, and accommodate me through this, but really, I wish people would just tell me what to do. Make the decisions for me. I can hardly decide what to make for dinner anymore, let alone plan a birthday party. It's an excuse for being a lazy correspondent, I know, but I really feel unequipped to deal with the responsibilities and obligations of being a good friend right now. I feel torn between trying to be the good friend and make plans for outings etc, and just saying fuck it all, and dropping out of everyone's lives, because at least then I can't let anyone down anymore. I think I'll just do what I usually do. Suck it up, let them be angry and disappointed in me, and move on. Tim wanted to talk vehicles last night, about his, specifically. The original plan was for us to get a small SUV for me and Evan, and a battered old pickup truck for him, as we'd be taking trips to the dump, bringing home home reno stuff, etc... and now he's thinking an old SUV would be better for him too, and what do I think about that? And he throws all these questions at me, and I just couldn't do it. They may seem like just 'ideas' to him, but to me, these are huge discussions, that rattle the already tenuous foundations of my existence, and I can't handle much change right now. I could feel the inside of my head bubbling over with ever question, until I was almost mute... I literally could not answer another question, and lost it. I had to explain how being inundated with all the questions affected me, and how unstable it made me feel, and how I am wracked with indecisiveness right now, and can't even handle being asked what colour car to get, nevermind what kind of car, truck or SUV. Fuck, I feel like everyone expects things to be back to normal now. Don't get me wrong, everyone has been really supportive, and wonderful, for the first 8 weeks or so, but now I find people feeling impatient and frustrated with me. I think it must be like this for them: I had a loss. A wicked, horrible, unfathomable loss. They grieved with me, it was torture for many of them too. After a few weeks, life carried on for them. As it does for me too, I mean, time doesn't stop for me either. But how I deal with life now is different than those who got to go back to their normal, relatively unchanged lives. My everyday existence is different than it was before, and it won't ever be what it was, no matter what. So as much as people want me to be who I was before (which, truth be told, wasn't great either, I've never been a great friend, really) I can't. I am not that person. Though it may puzzle and even frustrate people that I can't even get through a seemingly unrelated activity without somehow coming apart at the seams, I can't help it. And if I repress my need to somehow escape, to save the others the awkwardness and inconvenience of my grief outburst, then I fall into a black hole, and am moody and withdrawn for the rest of the activity. So what do I do? I don't want to be the killjoy, the one who dampens the mood or whatever, even for myself, I get angry at myself for falling into it over and over again, when all I even want is just to have some uninterrupted fun with my family and friends. I just can't. I can't do it, because it's a part of me. Isla's life and death is woven through my whole self. It will be a part of every single thing I think, say and do for the rest of my life. It'll affect my choices, my ability to cope with future crises, my willingness to take risks, and accept challenges. I think after an appropriate grieving time, most of my friends and family went back to their lives, but didn't realize how I can't do that. One blogger whom I completely respect and am in awe of, despite our religious differences, described it beautifully. She said she feels like she's sitting on the bottom of the ocean. Her grief is the deepest and darkest of all, and no one is there with her. There are friends and family on the surface of the ocean, looking down at her, maybe dipping a toe or a finger in. They cannot share in her experience, it's so different at the bottom. And she cannot share in theirs. They are above her, in a different place, with different realities and experiences in the world. They don't see the world from the same vantage point, and therefore, she can't live the same way as they do, or the same way she used to. That's how I feel too. Everyone's back to normal, and want me back to normal, but this IS my new normal, and it sucks for me too. Bigtime.