Sunday, August 19, 2007

menses and dead dogs

**Images: current views**

Mitigating circumstances have exacerbated the death of my son. Not to diminish the weight of his death or the impact it has had on my life. Regardless, I would be the mess I am today and in the Jewiest of mourning. Oh, how I pine. Big pineage.

That said. Dr. P said, Katie, you have to start to build anew. Anew? What an odd and antiquated choice of words for "
In a new and different way, form, or manner." Fuck him. Though, he's right. I just don't want to agree with him. I wish I could chose not to. I can't.

Channel your anger, your grief and your emptiness productively, my mother says. She's right, too. I write. I knit. I scream. I yell. I cry. I sweat. I walk. I stretch. Bupkas. Now, I am trying to blog. This week, I want to catch up on my favorite blogs and comment. (Bored yet? Disgusted with me yet? Me too.)

Today, I decided to menstruate. Yes,
Mountjoy, I am menstruating. My menses commenced late this morning. It felt like a forceful gush of agony rushing through my vaginal canal. Usually, menseena begins slowly and taunts my vulva before making a grand appearance. Not this cycle. No, this cycle is for tears I have yet to shed. Anger I've yet to speak or write and wombache from sorrow and loss. A gush of emotion pouring out of my cunt at 90 miles per hour. If I am to learn anything from this period, it should be that my heart and womb are one. They work in synchronicity. I can live with that.

I miss you all. I adore you all and I am grateful for you all. I'm still a BlueJew. Thank God for Joni Mitchell... etc. etc. etc.


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