Queering the Triathlete (and Other Discomforts)

A Melancholy Zebra determined to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

A Short Rant on Cheering Me Up

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Just don’t. Is that okay with everybody?

I’ve been really sad for the past day. Rather, I’ve been apprehensive for nearly a month and extremely sad for just under 24 hours because now she’s gone. And I love her, and I miss her.

So, no I am really not okay right now. But some people have gotten it into their heads (okay, just the one) that I need cheering up most of all and ASAP.

No. 

What is so unsettling about other people being sad about normal shit? Frankly, I’d be more disturbed if I didn’t feel like this, if I didn’t go off on crying fits and sit heavily listening to some of our songs, reading our letters, remembering our conversations. This is supposed to be sad. I’m supposed to feel grief and fear and despair and other mishmops of clusterfucked feelings because she matters. We together mattered. And things that matter are worth mourning properly. 

So, no I don’t want to be dragged out to some random event to “have fun!” and “smile!” and “don’t think about!” No, I don’t want to listen to placations of: “there will be other people!” and “it’ll get better!” and “you’ll move on!” There are other people. It probably will get better. And maybe I shall move on. I know these things. And I don’t care because that’s not where I am right now, and I’m not ready to be there yet. I don’t want this grief surprising the fuck out of me weeks or months or years from now because I didn’t pay attention to it and didn’t it do its normal and painful thing.

I won’t dishonor the real heartache of this situation because it makes other people uncomfortable to see it. If you want to help, listen to me without giving advice or trying to downplay how I’m feeling and how draining it is. If that’s not in your bucket, go build sandcastles on a different beach. 

 

Okay. I’m done pissing into the digital void.

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