Today, I’m surrounded by people I love, but am still lonely. I’m already getting those “suck it up” looks, and I just hate people. Missing George is hard. Every week I miss seeing him at work. I miss seeing him for our weekly game night. It just keeps happening. I’m not crushed anymore. I’m mostly
This last weekend was a blur to me. Jenny and I hosted the wake, and had dozens of folks show. We played games to honor George, and had pizza, wings, cola, and other noms. I met his brothers, his sister, and his father. George was greatly loved, and people loved celebrating his life by playing
I’ve long since learned, and try to live by a simple rule. When in pain, grief, fear, or frailty, there are only a couple of rules for being a good human. I call it the Dumping Circles Rule. When someone has died, for example, there is an order of who gets to dump sadness on whom.
I thought it was supposed to feel like it isn’t real. I hear people say that it doesn’t feel real to them when someone dies… I don’t get it. I wake up several times a night, with no idea why I’m upset. The it hits me: George is dead. I return to restless sleep. I
I don’ t even know where to begin. At therapy yesterday, I received a message from George‘s mother, asking that I swing by and check on him. This isn’t an unusual request. He’s long since accepted that I would just show up sometimes to make sure he was okay. My therapist’s office was about, I dunno,
You would think, with a name like Terminally Intelligent, that I would talk about death more. Well, I try my damnedest not to. It’s depressing, and hard for people to hear about. Not to mention the triggers that death can bring up for some people. On that note: Trigger Warning! I have an acquaintance who
A friend of Jenny’s, named Anne, asked on our Facebook page if I would write about my parents. She was referring to my “natural” parents, of course. You know, those bastards that birthed me. You see, my parents were capitol-D-Dicks. Yep, I spelled that out, it wasn’t even ironic, I just wanted to make sure
TRIGGER ALERT: Jenny here. This post is full of triggers, I promise. Rory’s still in the hospital, but hand wrote this post, which I am posting on his behalf. He wrote it his first day in the hospital, before they gave him any new meds. Needless to say, he was still extremely suicidal at the
Sitting here, crying my eyes out, I wonder why I haven’t killed myself. I have dreamt, wished and planned. I have tried. But I’ve never succeeded, thankfully. But it occurs to me: Why am I not dead yet? It struck me today; I participate in the slowest, most painful form of suicide possible. Living. I
Need help? In the U.S., call 1-800-273-8255 National Suicide Prevention Lifeline One of the questions I get the most often is; “What does it feel like to be suicidal?” I think people are trying to understand why I would want to kill myself, not once, but twice in my life. I’ve never had a good
