I’m mildly addicted to twitter. It’s my social media go-to. I would rather check my twitter than check my facebook, myspace, linkedin, etc. I would rather check twitter than my email. I would rather eat live worms than go without my twitter family. Alright, I will stop my crazy game of “Would You Rather” since it can get out of hand pretty fast. But going back to my twitter fam, they are amazing. And really, some of my best friends. I know that sounds kinda sad, but it’s true. I remember first really ‘utilizing’ twitter a couple months after my brother died. I was able to express some anger, hostility, emotional breakdowns, psychotic breaks with reality… and there was always someone listening and taking what I was dishing. And all  they were doing was politely telling me how to whiten my teeth. Then someone who had also lost someone tweeted me. A real person, not someone saying they ‘lost weight heres how’ or ‘check britneys lost photos’ kinda junk. It was a real person, who has since deleted their account. I then, finally grasped the beauty of twitter. I micro-blogged my ass off about random stuff and someone always found me. Someone was always there for me. Yes, I love twitter. It makes me feel like people actually care that I put pickles on my peanut butter sandwich. When I’m hungover there is always someone to laugh at me and tell me I should have drank more water.

Its very reminiscent of that saying “A friend will help you, but a real friend will help you hide the body.”  Wednesday would have been my brothers 24th birthday. I think that day was when I realized just how truly special and amazing my twitter fam is. Some of the most supportive, loving, kind words came from people I had never met before. My ‘real life’ friends never reached out. Not even through facebook or a text message. Not even a phone call. Who knows why, maybe they didn’t want to stir up feelings or whatever, because everyone likes to ignore and/or quickly change the subject if it’s brought up.

So, thank you my darling Twitter family for being there for me and helping me hide the body when I’ve needed it.

xoxo

I wouldn’t rewind much. Just a year. Just back to December 5th and redo that all over. I think my brother could have lived if maybe if I could rewind and take him to a doctor. I was doing so good for so long. I really believed  I was ok. I had everyone else believe I was ok as well… I know that I’ve been strong and put together because I don’t know how to deal with it, I guess I’ve told myself enough times it’s Ok, I don’t even know. I’ve been crying for 3 days straight and can’t even manage to get out of bed for more than twenty minutes. My poor kiddo is suffering - well, maybe not suffering. Because he has been in bed with me watching videos and eating cocoa puffs out of the box. Speaking of my awesome child, when I start crying he touches my tears and laughs. Then he gives me a big, huge hug and says “Cuddle Mommy.” His laughs and cuddles stop my tears briefly. At least long enough to hand him a snickers bar.

My mom took the week off of the 6th, because she’s not going to be able to function either. When my mom breaks down, it makes me really tense. Like, I can’t fix it. I don’t know what to do. Then I get mad at Evan for leaving us. For doing this to us. Then I get mad at myself for feeling this way. People tell me he’s in a better place and I try really hard to believe it, and I’m sure he is. But damnit, I really liked having him here. In this place. A whole year has almost gone by. The shittiest part right now, is when I think about Evan, I don’t think about the goofiness or stunts he pulled or conversations. My mind instantly goes to that moment when I thought he was just sleeping and when I put my hand on his back to wake him up. The way he felt. I can still feel him on right hand. It’s almost as if my mind has two dueling memory centers. Because when my mind is taken back there, a happy memory will pop up,  but then another memory of that day will pop in my head. Does that make sense?

I question everyday why this happened to my family. And not to say that other families deserve it, because nobody does. But I listen to people bitch and bitch about their siblings or that they haven’t talked to their siblings in months. I just want to shake the crap out of these people. They don’t get it, they still have their siblings. And every time, I just want to want to say “At least you have your sibling.” I know that’s wrong, but nonetheless it frustrates me.

In my downward spiral of the past week, I have neglected some projects I am working on. I took down the store, because I just don’t have the energy for it anymore. Anyway, sending peace and love with you until my next update.

It’s October 28th. That means there are 39 days until it’s December 6th. I’ve been avoiding thinking about that day like the plague. My sister keeps bringing it up that she wants to start a tradition of breakfast on or around the 6th. I’ve been avoiding that conversation too. I would rather avoid the day all together. As well as the 7th. That was a bad day too. It’s almost like I want to pretend it never happened. Well, that’s damn near impossible. But what I really want to do is just go to sleep on the 5th and wake up on the 9th. That sounds like a brilliant plan. I just wish I knew how to implement every one of my brilliant plans.

You know what comes right after December 6th? Besides the 7th. It’s Christmas. That’s right, Christmas. It’s hard to be festive and happy. We powered through it somehow last year. I wouldn’t say it was great or wonderful and honestly I don’t even remember much of it. I just remember everyone trying so hard to be happy and festive for my little kiddo. But I digress,

December 6th was the day my brother died. December 7th was the day I ran downstairs and found him.  Somehow, I’ve managed to somewhat feel like I’ve began to move forward. I get these bad days, though, like today where I break down and cry. Where I remember every vivid detail of everything on the 7th. From calling 911 to touching him to calling my mom in Mexico. Everything comes rushing back like it happened ten minutes ago. On bad days, I try to convince the kiddo he needs an early nap because I don’t want him to watch me cry.

I have mixed feelings about the 6th. I don’t want to celebrate or remember the day my brother died. I really don’t want to remember any of it. But I know that’s impossible.  And I know those are only my feelings for today, for this moment. It’s 39 days away until it’s been one full year without Evan. And there are so many, many more without him.

Evan and I had sneaked into Qwest Field for the Seahawks/Jaguars game. This was the game that sent the Seahawks to the Super Bowl.

I have literally been making cupcakes two or three times a week lately. I don’t really know what has brought this new found obsession on, but I can tell you that my two year old is LOVING it. Usually the Hubby just brings most of the cupcakes to his office, which they are LOVING it as well. Last night I made some of the best ones yet. A triple chocolate fudge with peanut butter frosting with a drizzle of dark chocolate ganache on top. The Hubby stayed home from work today, so his office does not get to partake in the chocolatey goodness I made. Sad for them, joyous to me, damaging to my waistline. It’s 10:30am and I have scarfed down 4 already.

Earlier this week I made German Chocolate Strawberry cupcakes with a cocoa cream cheese frosting. Yumm.