Today is the fifteenth anniversary of my father’s murder.
(For anyone who doesn’t know what happened and wants to know, here’s the writeup that I posted in 2006, on the first anniversary. Content warning for a fairly detailed discussion of his murder, and a brief discussion of his SO Nancy’s suicidal depression.)
(…Something that I fret about sometimes: I imagine that most people, when they hear about a woman killing her male SO, assume that the man was abusive or otherwise at fault. I think that my writeup makes pretty clear that that wasn’t what was going on in this case; but just in case anyone skips reading my writeup, I want to say clearly that my father was not at fault here.)
I’ve been very mood-swingy this week. Perfectly fine, even cheerful, at times; sad and tense to the point of tears at other times. (US and world events have contributed to the sadness and tension, of course, along with stress about overdue work stuff. And listening to sad songs.)
I’m at FOGcon this weekend, where Mary Anne is a guest of honor. (It’s also launch weekend for her Sri Lankan cookbook, A Feast of Serendib!) But last night after attending the convention’s brief opening ceremonies, I sequestered myself in our room. I made some labels for things I brought for today’s gadget-and-toy petting zoo, and I read Facebook, and I read some of Naked Lunch (I’m about halfway through that). I wasn’t overtly distressed, but wasn’t doing well enough to interact with people.
Which may continue to be true today, dunno. I’ll definitely do the petting zoo, and I’ll probably attend the con lunch, but I may spend the rest of the day hiding in the hotel room. We’ll see. Food has often been helping with mood, so I’ll hold off on any decisions until after breakfast.
(I may also take a nap—woke up early after not quite enough sleep, couldn’t get back to sleep.)
Hugs and sympathies to family and to Peter’s friends. I hope you’re all holding up okay.