The other side of the glass

I remembered that I really don't like pink that much. I liked the design but it was just too pink and hurt my eyes invoking a tiny bit of nausea whenever I'd return to my blog. So I had to change my blog background.

Probably if I was really cool I'd create my own thing, but I'm not. So I pick from what is already available and that works just fine for me. There is always something that goes well with "Am I crazy" anyway.

So though I don't love the one I picked and it does not seem to be super reader friendly I picked it anyway because it reminded me of a time (not so long ago) when I felt very detached from life. I had explained it to my doctor as feeling like I was watching life through a window or from the other side of the glass.

I'll probably change it again soon.

the realities of life

On another note. I miss my brother. The suicide aspect is a bigger struggle for me now then the first year. It may be because my mind and chemistry is straightened out enough that I am no longer relating so well.
I feel angry about it. It is helpful to know that is a normal and expected stage of grieving... considering my delayed development I may be angry at the forces that be for awhile.
Mostly I am sad, extremely sad about it.
I miss him and I hate knowing that he is not coming back. My heart aches because of how he died and that it was at his own hand.
I am having to face that it was not just a bad dream. I went through an extended period where I must have been half awake and half asleep because it really did seem like just a bad dream. I am pretty sure in my awake life; if it was just a bad dream then my asleep life would confirm as I dreamed about this bad dream that really wasn't so... I know, it's confusing.

But reality sinks further and further in. And my eyes well with tears often as I realize this new reality. I am so sad that I do not get to see him for the rest of my life. I am sad that even the dreams of him have become few and far between. They may just be dreams but it is always nice to see him. I was allowed a dream of him the other night... I woke myself up I was so excited to see him and hug him. I was sobbing as I woke and lost that moment.

I don't want to forget my brother...
I don't want him to get farther and farther away.

"I like munnee"

I like to write.
I find it to be a good outlet.
Sometimes I write big ol' long e-mails. Sometimes they are answered and sometimes not. I am ok with either (usually) because I like to write anyway.

Sometimes I write random notes here and there.
Sometimes I write in journals
and sometimes on the computer like it's a journal.
I jot down ideas and epiphanies in random places to better hold on to them.

I like to read.
I sometimes like to read the things that I wrote.
I can see in the things that I wrote how I was feeling and who I was at the time of my writing.
I like to read the level me writings just fine. Sometimes they are interesting and sometimes dumb but they are easy and sometimes fun to read.
Sometimes my writings are very down and depressing. Sometimes they are angry or dark. I don't mind reading those. It often helps me feel good about where I am and the progress I have made. I can enjoy and appreciate life more knowing that I am not down like that.
Then there are the overly excited happy or anxious writings... The up writings (a bit of a manic undertone... or would it be overtone?)
I can't even make myself read those.
They are incredibly embarrassing... Though I find it hard to destroy or dispose of writings or pictures (it just feels wrong) I do occasionally throw those out in a thousand tiny pieces or even burn them.
...
And yet I felt so hyper, happy, obsessed, excited, spiritual and/or alive when I would have written such things.
...
That is all I have to say about that.
Except that sometimes I am an idiot and I hope that people can be patient. Maybe even understanding.