I give thanks for Ativan

Thanksgiving sucked.

My last night at Kripalu, I got inspired by Deepak Chopra's book, "The Path to Love," and I meditated hard on opening my heart. Open sesame, heart. So open it did, and I found....grief and pain. I burst into tears and sobbed for more than an hour. I wanted to talk to Glenn because I still feel so much love, and I don't know how to not share with him. The term, "broken heart," is so literal.

When I got back to Sudbury after a 3-hour drive in the pouring rain, I called him. I went to Kripalu because I felt like there was something I needed to do, something that needed to be processed or completed. I still can't put my finger on what it was, but I feel like I did it while I was there, and I think talking to Glenn was part of that process.

The holidays are hard. Particularly the first holiday of the being single.

Today I endured Thanksgiving with my dysfunctional family. No one in my family knows how to communicate. My mother is a know-it-all and my father is arrogant as all hell. They walk around exuding this bizarre sense of entitlement.

I am 13 again and embarassed by my horrible family.

On the drive to my aunt and uncle's, my brother did not sit still for more than 5 minutes--I counted. He fiddled with the window, with the air vents, with the radio, his shirt sleeves, his book, his fingernails, his hair. He talks loudly and incessantly, and he takes everything we say to him as a personal insult. How am I going to make it through two more weeks here?

One word. Drugs.