Why I hate March

Thinking about Thursday

I hate March.

I hope you will forgive me a little slip into the puddle of self-pity today. I don't do it often, and rarely in public.  You see, eight years ago this month was the worst moment of my entire life.

But, it was eight years ago, and I'm supposed to be passed it now. I am supposed to be a grown up and reasonable. I'm not supposed to sit and cry like it was yesterday or throw myself on the floor and scream, "It's not fair!" like I really want to do. Anyway, I've tried both and neither are particularly productive.

Usually, I just keep going. That's what we do, right? Just keep swimming in the sea of denial. Because if you stop, you might have to deal with it, and if you deal with it, it might be real.

So, ignore the fact you can't hardly breathe, plug your fingers in your ears and sing happy thoughts to yourself while pretending everything is fine.

Works for me. Or at least it did until my neighbor two doors over lost her father today the same way I lost mine.

Then March jumped up and smacked me in the face.

So, I hate March.
Cancer sucks.

I'll be better tomorrow.
That is all.