Notes from my Black
I told her that…
My previous post about the sweat bands… still heavy in my head. I couldn’t throw them out yesterday.
I sat on the floor next to her yesterday morning and told her about them. I held them in my hand and blankly told her the story. I showed her the hole I’d made and described to her how I had hid the razor in it. She listened and seemed emotionless.
Last night she side hugged me. I guess that was her way of pulling back. Ok. I noticed the she looked like she was going to cry. This is 12 hours since I’d told her about the cutting. Seems like this emotion should have been separate from what I expected earlier but didn’t come. I have no idea why she was sad. I didn’t ask.
I’m not sleeping well. I need to get these things gone through and tossed or donated… it’s just a lot. Not so many things, but a lot of baggage.
I get that my mom may not have known about the sweat bands. I mean she washed them… she would have seen the blood… but whatever. My mom saved a walking boot from when my neighbor broke my foot- on purpose. I was like 10… why would you save such a thing? I don’t at all understand. She threw away letters from my friend that wrote me from overseas, but she saved this boot… it’s just messed up. The walking boot I had no problem tossing in the garbage.