Marissa Lingen (mrissa) wrote,
Marissa Lingen


Oh, man, kids. My proprioception is shot clean to hell today. It's disturbing as all get-out. Earlier I had to open my eyes to see where my hand was. Like whether it was up by my shoulder or down by my thigh--I knew I could logic my way through it, but the thing is you are not supposed to have to logic your way through, "Where is my hand?" It's one of the ones you're supposed to get for a freebie. It is always in the last place you put it. You should not have to try to estimate how bent your arm is by figuring out how many centimeters of inner elbow are pressed together. If you close your eyes to type, you should not have to reason that your hands are at the same level because you know you left the desk level when you closed your eyes. It is an extremely wrong thing what is wrong with its wrongness.

I don't like to whine, but this is the third Christmas that's been like this, and I could really do something else now.

One of you-all wished me a better ratio of happy niece time to nasty vertigo time, while I was in Wisconsin, and I had to say no, that's not how I do this. Because if I think of the two in ratios, in comparisons, then in some sense the vertigo is canceling out part of the niece time. (Or the time hanging out having dinner with people I love, or the time reading a good book or etc.) And I really need for it not to cancel. I really need for all the good stuff to still be here when I'm done doing the math. Because so far we have been only intermittently successful at making the bad stuff go away, and so if I make the good stuff into the antimatter form of bad stuff instead, that's no good at all, and I might explode.

There was lots of Christmas stuff with missing my grandpa that I expected to be hard, and it was hard. The bit I had not thought about at all that nearly undid me was that Grandpa always collected the trash, the torn wrapping paper and like that. He was the keeper of the bag. Mom hadn't thought of it, either. She immediately passed responsibility on to Daddy, and Christmas could continue. But it's always like that with grief: you think you have a handle on where it'll be hard, and you're always not quite right enough. Right enough to get through, and right enough to have the good memories, and right enough to have Orange Julius and gjetost. But--you never think of everything until it's right there.
Tags: grandpa, grief sucks, stupid brain tricks, stupid vertigo

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