Fallout (*Update)

*Six hours into my dad’s surgery (twice what we thought it would take) and there is still no word. I know, not much of an update but I am going crazy and had to do SOMETHING. And? Yes, I still feel pretty much as shitty as when I wrote this post. I bet some of you are reevaluating your desire to run into such a big barrel of fun as me at BlogHer, huh? The emails and ecards were lovely, though. Really. I will let you know if something changes. .

My day started out ordering a few more business cards for BlogHer.

It ended with me sobbing hysterically for hours over an order of greasy Mexican food from Beto’s.

What happened between then and now can only be described as one of the most suck-ass days known to mankind.

I jumped in my car to drive two hours to see my father because in the morning he is undergoing a very serious surgery on his heart. I wasn’t fully aware at ALL how serious until this afternoon. I haven’t talked about it to anyone because it’s all been very fast.

I desperately didn’t want my last words to him to be, “Yes, dammit!!! I will water the plants, ok? I HAVE to go because James and Christopher are about to murder each other.”

CLICK.

I could NOT have that remain as it was. Because of anyone on the earth, I know that bad, bad things DO happen.

So I hastily arranged to go see him in the hospital and what can only be described as a sadistic comedy of errors on my life by the universe commenced.

THING AFTER THING AFTER FREAKING HORRIBLE THING happened over and over.

Under less seriously circumstances it would be hilarious, but it just SUCKED ASS to go through today.
Having my father tell me where he kept the state quarters he collects for my boys in case the worst happens was quite bad enough, thank you.

Final straw?

Checking my email and after a leap of hope that they hideousness of my day MIGHT be brightened I little I saw my rejection for BlogHer Community Keynote speaker.

Nope. I didn’t tell anyone I submitted. I submit for lots of things and I get rejected for almost all of them and I usually do not say word one about it here or really anywhere. Only the ladies that I worked with knew that for months I worked on a proposal for a BlogHer panel that, yup. got rejected.

I was sad. I teared up because I put a crapload of time and thought and work into that proposal. And? I got over it and congratulated the winners and moved on.

This?

Has fucking crushed me.

F-U-C-K-I-N-G. C-R-U-S-H-E-D. M-E.

Why?

Not why you would think. See that post below? The one about blogging jealousy? I really mean it.

It would have been beyond wonderful and humbling to read something I wrote in front of my peers. It sucks that I wasn’t picked, but really? EH. I’m not picked for lots of things. I have been auditioning for shit in front of people since I was little. I’m not saying that it’s fun but dude. I can eventually deal.

I submitted this post.

It’s about my son, Matthew.

It is by far the best thing I have written.

I cannot do better.

So, yes. That is part of it. Finding out that my very, very best? Is not enough.

Still, I could still live with that but there would be a lot of Ben & Jerry’s involved to get me through it.

What it comes down to?

I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER.

I should have known better than to submit THAT post. Or any post regarding my son. For one? If I had been asked to read, you can bet your ass that I would have worried that I was selling out my poor little boy for glory. (How is that for conflict?) Still…I thought about that and I know that there are so many others who have felt that way. And I know damn well that every parent has wondered what it would be like to have to walk in my shoes. (Hint: It fucking SUCKS.)

Plus? I had 4 months with my son. It is stupidly important to me that his little life reach people or touch people since he has so little time to put his imprint on the earth by himself. That was part of my motivation in submitting.It may not make sense if you haven’t walked in my shoes. Maybe even that wouldn’t matter as very little about the whole awful situations makes sense anyway.

I should never, ever have taken my boy and put his memory and my feeling about him into the hands of others to accept or reject. I am not sorry I wrote about it or him. Here? I have control. It is different.

I took the most precious, tender, secret, loving thoughts and feelings that I have about my little bug and put that control into people who do not know me. Who did not love him. Who had a cut and dried decision to make.

And those memories and feelings and nights sobbing in my pajamas in the cemetery by him now have a fucking “REJECTED” sign all over them.

I never, ever, EVER should have put myself in this position and I should have known better. I should have known how personally I take my writings about Matthew. I knew deep down that the fall out of this would be terrible and I should not have done it.

SO?

I don’t know. I don’t know how to feel. I know that embarrassed, stupid, shamed, angry, sad, achy, loss, and just feeling bone-dead-beaten down are all floating around in my mind, heart and soul but god damn if I have the energy to figure out the why’s and where’s of them. I know that this situation was made SOOOOOOO much more shitty by the seriousness of my father’s situation and that every single time I am within miles of a hospital and those smells and sights and cold, sterile air, I am launched back into the trauma of the day Matthew died.

There are also piles of things that are going on that I NEVER talk about here and it is all coming out with a vengence tonight.

And that? DOES NOT HELP.

I think I will just throw this computer away for awhile and try to cope and deal and concentrate on my father. (And yes, if you are really enough of an ASSHAT to wonder if the rejection of the post is a bigger deal to me than my father…Never mind, I’m not even going to answer that, you prick.) I just cannot, cannot talk more about it than I have.

The stupid blog post is something that I can handle writing about and posting here.

I don’t want to analyze or logic through the “Why’s”. Does it matter? The end result is the same, right? Besides, emotion tied to loss like this is not logical AT ALL. I’m not even going to see who made the list because chances are high people I know and loved are on that list and guess what? I DON’T FEEL LIKE BEING HAPPY FOR ANYONE ELSE RIGHT AT THIS MOMENT. Because like I said, I believe in the monstrously long drivel I wrote on blogging jealosy and I WILL be happy for them but screw it for now. That can come later, ok?

I don’t ask that there be one whit of understanding about this post. I don’t care if it’s seen as petty or small. I really don’t care about much right at the moment. This post? Is for me. I really don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks of it or me right now. I have to get some of this out because I just can’t take one more thing and talking here usually helps. Which I need, even if it is only a little bit. Because I am at the end of my freaking rope.

I am going on 3 hours of sleep in two days and since my dad goes into surgery at 7 and it’s 5:15 in the morning, I am going to stop talking.

I would say that I feel like complete hell but at this point I feel like I have to look UP to see hell.

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