My dad died on Valentine’s Day from a cancer in his brain that he fought for a year and a half. I’ll talk about that more one day, but what I want to say now comes from the buildup and the fallout. What I want to say is not about the suffering and turmoil that I watched my dad and my family experience for that year and a half, or the milestones we hit every day that I never mentioned, like the last day he had ice cream or went outside. I want to talk about him and I will. But today, I want to talk about the aftermath. People don’t know what to say about death and dying. They tell you they’re sorry and they could never do what you’re doing, they tell you how strong you are and graceful you’re being, admire how you’re “back to work” or “still able to have fun”. Grievers are told time and time again, nobody knows what the right thing to say is. And we have grace. Giggle it off and nod our heads, tell them thank you and it’s okay. Because it is okay. They aren’t doing anything wrong t...
Yuck. When I think of the word rejected I just think of that one episode of Zoey 101 where they follow that guy around chanting “RE-JE-CT-ED YEAH YOU JUST GOT REJECTED!!” It haunts me. HAUNTS me. Y’all I dunno if I wanna talk about this it hurts my feelingsssssss. Okay screw it fine.*long sigh* I got my feelings hurt (cue the worlds tiniest violin). I’m talking HURT hurt. CEO of getting rejected. BIG ouch. Anyways. Rejection is one of those weird things. You know what it reminds me of? Being like, 11 and you fall off the swing set and you actually got hurt but you just start to laugh and jump in circles and act like you’re not hurt even though your ears are ringing and you can’t feel your elbow. It’s like that. It’s the worlds largest cringe. Like all of the oceans on this earth just rear up and vomit into one giant cringe tsunami. When I face rejection, I want to puke, cry, hide, and die all at the same time. I think the ...