Hello lovers!  Hope everyone had a great Hunger Games weekend!!  I went to see it with a bunch of coworkers after work Friday.  I devoured read the serious in a ridiculously fast time.  I can never thank one of my best girlfriends S enough for turning me on to the books!  I was so enthralled reading the books, and my poor roommate heard me rant and rave while I tore through the books.  Even more than my insatiable desire to finish the series, I wish my dad was alive to read the series.  Here’s hoping they have them in Heaven!  But back to the movie:

EPIC

I thought the movie did a fantastic job of portraying the best of the book that it could- for a short movie.  I think people that get very upset when the movie doesn’t match the book don’t realize- well duh, the movie will never have YOUR portrayal/imagination that you created when you read it.  So of course it will never live up to what you imagined!  I think the terror Katniss felt when entering the arena was great, but I do wish they would have expanded on her relationship struggle with Gale as well as their trials while in their Districts and in the arena a bit more.  I think this website (Thanks, Katy!) does an excellent job of stating everything that us obsessed devoted Hunger Games fans think the movie could have included to really make it even more awesome.

Moving on to a bit more sobering topic.  The anniversary of my dad’s suicide is approaching.  On April 3rd it will be three years.  Three years.  Three years seems like so much and so little at the same time.  I cannot believe so much time has passed since I have seen, spoken, hugged, argued, and laughed with my dad.  I have come such a long way since the first few days and weeks following his sudden passing.  I spent the first year in a blur trying to find my place in a new world- one without my daddy.  It was extremely helpful to be attending graduate school as a full time student, while also working a full time job.  I began a mere four months after his passing, and I was so grateful for the intense distraction school gave me.  And when I wasn’t writing papers or reading articles for class, I was consoling my mother- a young widow at the age of 53.  Only after I finished school in December 2010 did my real healing begin.  I began spending time with friends again, sleeping through the night, and really trying to cope with the changed person I became.  To this day I struggle with normal life situations.  I get jealous when friends tell me they argued with their dads.  Anytime I watch ‘Say yes to the dress’ I cry a little inside knowing my dad will never be there to make fun of all the frilly dresses, or walk me down the aisle insisting he will never give away his daughter- my groom will have to fight him for me, and of course everything he will miss as I live on.  And every time I pass my old home exit off the freeway when driving to my mom’s new house, I feel so deeply sad I can no longer seek comfort in the home I made so many memories with him in.

From the outside I’m sure I appear normal- I go to work everyday, I continue to exercise, go out and meet friends, and even date (albeit fruitlessly).  I laugh at my coworker’s silly jokes, I cry watching the Hunger Games, I love getting my free truffle from Godiva, and enjoy sitting outside soaking up the suns glorious warmth.  But inside I am still healing from what professionals call complicated grief- grief that has longer periods of sorrow and anguish.  Knowing my dad took his own life has a myriad of grief symptoms I cannot even begin to describe on this blog- anger, disappointment, guilt.  And this grief doesn’t simply ease with the passage of time- only my coping skills help me disguise it better from the world.  While I have accepted my dad was in an excruciating amount of physical and mental pain, and I know he was not in his right mind and only saw death as an escape from his pain, I still struggle with just not having him in my life.  I find sometimes I struggle even with trying to become upset-like I cant seem to get sad. I don’t want to be sad all the time, I used to be happy! Only when I have the occasional dream or nightmare does that elicit sadness and eventually a cathartic sob session.  I miss him so much it hurts almost more than losing him.  As any fellow daddy’s girl can tell you, my daddy meant more to me than anything in life.  I lived to make him proud.  And I continue to live today for myself- to make him proud to the day I can see him again.

If you or anyone you know are in crisis and need help, please contact the free and anonymous call center 24/7 at (800) 273-TALK.