Moving. Always Moving.

Lots has been going on in my little head these last few weeks. I am moving. I am always moving. Maybe not physically, but mentally. I realized that much of the way I cope with hard spots is to move-- to run away. If I can't run away physically, I run away emotionally, or I run to a movie or even food. I run. I don't want to face the pain. I don't want to deal with Nate's death. I want everything to be ok. What is ok? I don't have any idea. I don't know how to explain death to myself, so how do I talk about it with people? And, the other big question, is how do I deal with people who don't even acknowledge my pain. I spent some time with a girlfriend recently, and she kept saying the stupidest things-- like she couldn't understand why I was tired (duh, the most emotionally exhausted I've ever been... not to mention, I have a 14 month old who is just learning to walk... it's not like I get to take naps during the day or just take life easy) or why Cole wasn't being himself (hum, lets think about it, Cole understands I'm stressed), or why I was sad. At one point, I looked at her and said, My brother died. She still didn't get it. How do I deal with people who just really don't get it-- I understand that lots of people haven't had death near them, but to not even try. Come on.
So, to anyone who doesn't know what to say when they're faced with death, say, "I'm sorry, this really sucks." Hug the person. Tell them you love them. Then follow up with "this just really sucks."
The End for now