Sick

I haven't written for a long time, and when I have, I haven't written about anything I've said I was going to write about. So, long story short, I probably won't. If I haven't yet, it's probably not going to make it in. I've been very sick this past week. I've been kind of angry about being sick as well. Mostly because I thought I was immune to all that. Not sure why I thought that, but I was pretty sure of myself. So much so that every night when I went to bed, I was positive I'd wake up feeling better. I started that on Monday. It's Friday. Every night my sleep got worse and worse. Last night, it really felt like I had no sleep at all.

So I'm leaving work early (at noon) and going to a doctor. Trying to do the positive thought thing, but now I have to go hang out with sick people in a waiting room. (I'm one of them.) Oh well, if it will make me better I'm all for it.

And... I win for the most boring blog entry ever. Cause I have nothing else to say. Sick... going to be better by tomorrow with the help of medication, and life is good otherwise.

I'll have more to say next time. Or I won't write.

Reminder to myself...

I realise that putting a 2 in the title of a post should mean there is a 1 some place. I thought there was a first, but it says A World Without Strangers.
I don't feel like changing either of them, but thought I would mention that I see it looks strange. I probably should have confirmed that before hand.

Also, I did some more research, and I'm writing it here because I have it on a piece of paper on my desk, and KNOW I will lose the piece of paper. My blog has two anniversaries: June 2006 is when it officially began. August 19th, 2010 was when I started to take it seriously, and began writing things that I was scared to write about -and frankly, scared to speak about. So I will be celebrating both those blog-o-versaries when the time comes. Not sure how. We'll have to wait and see... This is my reminder post for myself. (We'll see how that works.)

Until next time,
E

The Kindess of Strangers Part Two

Mother's Day was this past Sunday. If I was in the gratitude mode, I would love what I have, and appreciate the fact that I am who I am because of my mother. (I am who I am because of myself as well, but you know what I mean). I truly believe parents are huge influences in what their children become. It's not always the case, but it is in my situation. I've ALWAYS had the support of both my parents, and my mom is quite possibly the best person I know. I will aspire to be as good of a mom as she is to my sister and I. (if the chance comes).

That being said, sometimes I forget the gratitude bit, and I wallow.  The reason I wallow is the same reason I started this blog. Unfortunately, the list has grown. The number one reason is because I'm not a mother. I want to be. Some day. It feels like the chance is getting farther and farther from me. This day makes me think of my grandmothers. One passed away the month before Mother's Day, the same year as the miscarriage. If you've read this, you know, but it's still hard. My other grandma is in a nursing home, and has been very up and down this year. She's my mom's mom... she shaped my mom. Something else, that I'm sure will be obvious. Those moms who have lost children. I can't even begin to imagine what a hard day it was for Cameron's mom. She and her husband are wonderful and loving people, and I can't imagine what they are going through. What I've been through -does not compare.

So, I was having an "I'm feeling sorry for myself" day. I try not to do that very often, but it does happen. I went to sit by the river with a book and my journal. It was a beautiful day. (Beautiful enough to give me a sunburn). Everybody was out. Families, kids, couples, singles. I got myself a hot dog (I couldn't resist), and sat down to call my mom. After hanging up, I was still feeling down, and this guy came and asked if he could sit on my bench. (That's right... I called it 'my bench'.) I said yes thinking he was just going to sit, and I'd put my headphones on and continue my moping. Instead, he talked to me. He asked me about the hot dog I was eating. (PS, not that comfortable eating in front of strangers at all, never mind a hot dog )... He asked me about my life, what I did, history in Saskatoon, what's fun to do here... He just moved here, and wanted to learn more about it.

I don't remember being annoyed. I may have been a bit at the beginning, but I enjoyed talking to him. I also enjoyed getting out of my head. He didn't realise the impact he made on my day. We talked for about an hour, and then he gave me his phone number so we could go roller blading together (I don't own roller blades). I took it, and he went off to enjoy the day. At no point did he hit on me, or say anything inappropriate. He just wanted to talk, and maybe thought I did as well. It's the 'old school' way of meeting people, before the silly Internet. I guess it just goes to show that the people on the dating sites (myself included), say they don't know how to meet people, but maybe they just don't try very hard.

I don't think I'll text him. That's not really important. What's important is that for a moment, I stopped feeling sorry for myself, and my day immediately got better. Sometimes I feel like I should give myself moments to feel sorry for myself, and feel sad, but then I realise how much better it feels to be happy.

That's it.  Strangers. They're good.

Need You Now

I've been deleting texts lately. I don't need to keep them all, and most end up being deleted once we pass 200 messages anyway. So I guess I was attempting to save my phone's memory, as well get rid of things I don't need (if only I did that with material things). There was one group of messages I wasn't prepared to delete. My last couple of conversations with Cameron. I haven't deleted him as a contact either. I don't want his picture to disappear. (although not only is it his fb picture, but I took it, so I have it to look at in many ways.)

Every once in a while I pull up our last texts. I'll either smile, or tear up... or both. On Monday I was doing my usual purging of messages, and I tried to delete the first on my list. Instead I deleted my last contact with Cam. Three days later, I'm still upset about it. The message wasn't anything important. Mostly us discussing meeting up when he came to Saskatoon for Christmas. A bit of joking, a bit of Erin and Cameron. Now it's gone. Just like him, and my heart occasionally breaks all over again at the loss.

I've been listening to the song "Need you Now" by Lady Antebellum. Sometimes on repeat - because I'm a dork. I feel like it fits sometimes. I think Miss you Now is more appropriate in this situation because the whole point of my life seems to be that I can do it on my own. I shouldn't have to 'need' anybody. Although, I have a pretty big support system, and life would be pretty hard if I didn't have them. Anyway, listening to this song probably doesn't help my mood, and forces me to think about how much I miss him.

Cameron's mom described grief as a roller coaster. Very good description.

I know this entry is kind of all over the place, and I still haven't written about my trip to Whitecourt. I will. I'm not sure if I'll have time to write about it today though. I'll just say this, Whitecourt was home to me because of Cameron. I believe that with all my heart... BUT I've been unfair to Whitecourt, and the friends I've made there. I got a chance to catch up with co-workers and friends while in Whitecourt, and I was reminded of the other things that made this place good. I hold a lot against Whitecourt because of what I went through while I was there, but I forget that it also holds a few people that helped me out when I needed it, and are still there to help me out when needed. I feel like this needs to be said. I was stuck in a haze of unhappiness, and going back with a fresh view, and the even need to have gratitude, I was able to see things clearly.

Also - my mom was with me for this trip. She helped me. I hate to cry in front of people (although, I do it a lot). I hate to have people realise I'm not strong, so mom being with me helped me stay strong. (less breakdowns).

More on the trip later. I'm on my lunch break. Have to get to work now.

The Court of White

I'm going to Whitecourt this weekend. I'm going with my mom because I honestly don't think I can do it alone. I need to check into my condo and make sure my renters are still good.

I've been losing sleep and stressing about this for days. It hit me last night, as I was writing in my journal to Cameron, that I'm about to see the last place we hugged. The place we said goodbye for the last time (except I didn't know it was the last time). I will probably walk past his house. I won't go in (because it's not mine), but I know I'll walk past it. We will drive past the place on the highway. The place. I don't know exactly where it is, but I have an idea.

Everything in Whitecourt is memories of Cameron and I. I thought I was stressed out before, it's just building up.

I hate losing it in front of people. I hate crying in front of people -including my mom.

I HATE not being strong, but I've somehow lost all my strength these last few days, and am left with a tension headache, a pain in my chest, and tears.

I'll write when I get back.