While I'm Not Listening...

While I'm not listening, my brain is telling me things that are very important. My brain tells me things all the time, and I've gotten too used to not listening to it.

Or, maybe I listen, but I process and process and process... and it takes so long I may as well be not listening.

The things that are important don't ever escape me, because my brain is talking to me about them all the time. But I think I'm too busy or something. I don't know.

It's been just over a year since Brad died. I know: Brad, Mom, I do go on so. But I think I will think about those two people for the rest of my life. I've been missing Mom since not long after she went to the nursing home--the day I visited her, in fact, and knew she was no longer "there"... but instead in some time in the past, probably before I was born.

And I've been missing Brad since around 1985 or so, with about 25 years of not listening to my brain berate me about it between times.

When I ask myself why I'm able to have any success in this diet thing--why I'm actually able to do it at all, when I've never had any sort of motivation in the past, I have to wonder what is so different. Yeah, the doctor was all like, "Get this number down, or I'm gonna be all diabetes prescription meds on you" and whatnot--but... I don't know. I've heard things from doctor's before. Yes, actual things. Words, even. Talk of diet and health and death-before-45, even.

So my latest working theory is that after about ten months of finally facing the horror of my stupid teenage decision back in February of 1985, and facing the fact I'd never be able to "fix" it or even "make it a little better"... I think I've forgiven myself. I think somewhere around mid- to late-September, I came to terms with the fact time still only works one way.

And I'm not sure I realized in those 25 years just how angry I was with myself. Or, to be terribly honest about it, how much I hated myself.

Now, I don't think that's the whole ball of wax. I mean, I've got more baggage than Santa at 11:59p.m. on December 24th, I'm sure. But it sure feels "true".

Which means nothing, of course. It's just how a thing feels.

Or, who knows? Maybe I just needed to blog what I'm eating every day, and that was all it took.

But I still do a great job ignoring things. I was reading a story or experiencing some story (maybe a television show or a movie) the other day about someone who nearly died (I can't even remember what the story was now, or how the person nearly died), and I thought, "Boy, if that was me, I'd make sure my life meant something after that. I'd make sure that my being here made a difference!"

And my brain, arms crossed, smirk on its face, just looked over and me and said, "June, 2005."

So I've been thinking since then (okay, did I say "the other day", because it was more like "a month or so ago") about what I should be doing that I'm not.

I have an appreciation for the people around me that I'm not sure I had 5.5 years ago--or at least now I have a deeper appreciation. But I don't know how much of a difference I'm making.

So I'm trying to figure out what I need to be doing. I'm not talking "change of life" here, like I'm going to sell everything and travel the world helping anyone who needs it--because beyond talking their ear off, what skill could I offer, right?

But I need to be doing something--and typing a blog about needing to do something isn't enough, I know. I just don't know what I should do first. I'm not thinking anything big...

I just need to figure out how to brighten the corner where I am...