First of all, I am not going to kill myself. I know that’s a morbid title so I just want it out of the way.
So yesterday was Valentine’s Day, the stupidest holiday of the year. I have been single for a really long time, mostly by choice, a little because the pickins is slim. I avoid all the fake, bullshit romantic garbage that the day brings for MOST of the day. By the end of the day though, man it hits home that I have been single for a really long fucking time. 18 years?! Since my youngest was 10 months old, that’s a really long time to be alone.
That’s not to say I haven’t tried here and there. I have had some wonderful days spent with some interesting guys. A few were put into rotation, more still were just for the moment. Out of all of them, dozens of them (don’t judge me ffs I let my freak flag fly high and proud), do you know how many were actually single??? THREE y’all, FUCKING 3! I was none the wiser until after the fact with the exception of one ongoing, drawn out, off and on, affair (gag).
So that brings us to last night when, after a whole day of not giving a shit, I got in my car after work and the events of the day hit me so hard. I had done something so stupid because I am a “nice person” and a total doormat. What had the lady done you may wonder? Oh I will tell you. The affair has been going on, and off, for a decade. He lives with a woman, they have kids. She is nothing like me. I am an angry, angsty, proud leftist who will not hesitate to tell you to fuck off. She fucking goes by Sparkle. See? Different. He lied to me about her and their life for years, and me being the trusting person I am, believed it. Every last lie. Convincing myself that even though it was a bunch of lies there must have been some bit of truth to it. But after I found out, after I confirmed it I tried to stop, there were more lies of course, it would ebb and flow, there was a friendship there, blah blah blah. It’s a reminder of just how stupid I am most of the time.
We all live in the same town, I was fucking here first, so they encroached onto my hood. Yesterday morning he told me they didn’t have water and he was waiting for the plumber to come check the well. He asked if he could come shower at my house if this was gonna be a long fix. I said sure. I wouldn’t be there so I didn’t care. he knows how to get in so whatever right? Do you see where this is going? I was the side chick letting the idiot have a shower at my place so he could be clean for Valentine’s day with the fulltime, live in chick. TON of bricks dropping on my head.
So while I sat there stewing in my anger at myself, I started thinking about what would be would be fun for my funeral. I started writing, in the third person lol, a long list of things about me most people don’t know and all the reasons they don’t know the things. Half way through i switched to first person. One or all three of my kids can take turns reading it OR they can have it printed in the program. I just want to make people uncomfortable and then I want them to laugh. So here it is, what I tapped out on my phone in 10 minutes.
Things I want to talk about when I’m dead…
So she’s died. There lies Jessica. Friend to very few, mom to 3, sister to two. Her biggest regret in life was that she accomplished nothing.
She spent the majority of her life deeply depressed and lonely. She struggled to connect in any real way with other people. She was often quiet and reserved as an adult because she was belittled and bullied as a child.
She had so much to say but found so few to listen.
She often wanted to flee this shithole country that shit on her when she was down, which was often. She carried the shame society heaped on her for being poor, or a single mother, or not traditionally educated around with her and tried make others experiencing those things feel heard and cared for.
She was impatient as fuck.
She believed in efficiency, lists, post-its, technology, and all the science. She never completed a to-do list…
She saw the way the world should be and could not understand why others lacked the humanity to also see it. It infuriated her.
She did not believe in god. So there had best not be any Jesus at this thing. My children would never do that to me.
She was NEVER a proud American.
She was a proud leftist and mother to little leftists. She was grateful to live through the Trump presidency but was disappointed he was replaced with yet another old white dude.
She believed that class was the thing often overlooked in our society.
She hated most white people. If you’re a white people and here, you were probably okay in her book.
She had trouble sleeping most of her life and was concerned this was due to a psychiatric condition but it was more likely due to never being brave enough to say all the things during the day so those things kept her up at night.
She did not know how to relax. If she wasn’t doing anything she wasn’t relaxed, she was paralyzed and couldn’t function.
She loved TikTok but was always to nervous to comment or post any videos saying her piece.
She was mentally unstable and pretty open about that. Her mind raced all day, everyday, trying to think of new things to stimulate her curiosity. The next rabbit hole to go down. the next article or book to read. She couldn’t sit still long enough to read a book by the time she hit 38 so if you’re looking for a bunch of half read books in excellent condition, there will be a giveaway if the kids got it together.
Her racing mind often made it hard for her to communicate. Moments into a conversation her mind had sprinted to the next topic. Is she sorry about that? Who knows, she’s dead now.
In her kitchen, she was larger than life. She would cook enough to feed a small army and always regretted not having a deep freezer. She is actually writing this, so let’s switch to 1st person!
My favorite font was Georgia, which this is in.
I loved to bake and if I baked you a treat it meant I loved you. Same for a meal or sharing my food.
A lot of people have seen my boobs, it’s cool though because they are fantastic.
I loved to write things and I started writing these last words on 2/14/22.
I thought it would be funny and cathartic. I have recently been battling through one of my deepest episodes of depression which is probably related to perimenopause. I, only half jokingly, threatened to walk into traffic recently but was angry it was moving too slowly to do any actual harm.
I loved my children. I know I didn’t always give them the life they deserved but I tried to make the most of our limited means and time. They were the only people, as of this writing, to truly stir my soul. I wish I had been more present with them but I was always so sad and desperately chasing dopamine and serotonin and overwhelmed and scared that I couldn’t fully enjoy the joy it was to be their mother. I guess that is also a regret.
As of this writing, I have never been truly loved by another person. I have loved many people but they always hurt me deeply. I gave up on any romantic attempts at 40 and desperately tried to love myself but I found myself lacking. So that probably explains a lot. I have been hurt so deeply by so many and I wish I knew what is was I did and in which life I did it to have deserved all the lies. What was it about me that made me such an easy target? I hope I found out before I died but if I didn’t, jot a note asshole so that other women can be warned. Please also note that if this part made you uncomfortable then you are an asshole and should probably unpack some shit with a therapist.
The only place I ever wanted to be was in Maine. I craved solitude and quiet most of my life. Hopefully I made it there.
I never met a dog I didn’t like, a body of water I didn’t want to sit by, a shaded path I didn’t want to walk down, and a flower I didn’t admire. I saw beauty in almost everything.
Even though I was the pastiest bitch to ever walk the earth, I loved sitting in the sun.
I loved buildings, but preferred them to be older and full of character. I could feel their history as I walked through them. I saw every holiday and family dinner. I saw joy and sorrow. I felt the old footsteps and wanted nothing more than to give a family back what they had lost. But that doesn’t make anyone money, and in life, in capitalism, profits matter more than people. Even though we are real and money is a bullshit, invented concept that forces us into greed and never forces us to closer to our own humanity.
I never wanted to be rich. I often talked about what I’d do if I ever won the lottery, which I never played. I would find a way to give most of that money back to the poor and the marginalized. Not through some shitty policy that made old, rich, white people feel good, even when it failed, but in actual things that people needed. Safe, warm, affordable, healthy homes. Community gardens, childcare coops, support for education (affordable fucking education), mentors, and mental healthcare. Because it’s about class solidarity and I could never be a rich person – just a person who had more money they didn’t need.
I HATED ELON FUCKING MUSK WITH THE FIRE OF A TRILLION SUNS!
I wanted the already rich and powerful to stop thinking about how to be more rich and powerful, to stop abusing us who keep them rich and powerful, and give us our share. Eat the bloody rich.
If you’re here, tell my kids why. You probably never met them because I didn’t invite people in. Again, I had a very difficult time connecting with other humans even though I always wanted to. Don’t sugar coat it either, don’t just say I was nice. Tell them why. Because I never understood why anyone would ever want to show up. Granted, I’m sure only 5 people I am not related to are here but tell them anyway. Then join the parade, New Orleans style.
I hope the announcement included no formal wear unless it was loud, colorful, and dripping in sequins.
I hope you let people in and I hope every one of you were loved exactly how you are so when your funeral comes around, people don’t have to read a booklet to know the real you.
I do hope you enjoyed a trip to my future funeral. Until that day comes please try to be a better human to those of us who are trapped in our spiraling, unfocused brains. We are trying and we are sad and we just want to connect the dots.