Seattle 1

My first day back and I already feel like a great gulf is between us. Why won't you let me help you?

I talked it over with my aunt today and we decided that it might be best for me to go back NEXT Wednesday instead of this Wednesday. We decided that my mom doesn't want me there right now. It makes her try too hard. She's not at peace ... when I'm around. She doesn't want to see me hurt. I make her want to be better too much ... and she can't be better right now.

I went out tonight. Made jokes. Made laughter. Answered questions about my mom's condition. It was fine. It was fine. I feel like cardboard. And ashamed that I can so easily slip into some semblance of normalcy. I'd rather feel my head exploding and I'm sad that I'm numb and attempting laughter instead. I imagine that every day will bring something different?

So, for now, I lurk. Abstract. Cold. Idiotic.

One thing--on the plane, I sat next to an older man from Edmonton who asked me why I was in California. He told me that his dad died from lung cancer six years ago.

It's hard for my mind to let her be person and not just mother. I feel like such an idiot for feeling so comfortable at home.