Oh, is it my turn all ready? Cool.

Just got back from therapy. Cashed my check and did some shopping at Price-Mart. Got myself some sugar free frozen confections because the section where I normally get my sugar free Voortman disappeared and a big display of gold Lindt bunnies took its place, god damn it.

I mean, replacing diabetic-friendly cookies with overpriced chocolate bunnies? Really? Talk about a slap to the face of us sugar-intolerant folks.

But luckily, the wonderful folk at Chapman’s ice cream had my back, and have both ice cream sandwiches (awesome) and ice cream cone-styled things (whatever they call them in your area) that are gloriously sugar free, so I got those instead.

And now when I want dessert, I have to actually GET UP and go to the freezer to get it AND THEN walk all the back to my computer and sit down to eat it. ^[1]

Surely no other has suffered such as I.

At the checkout, in the candy section, I spotted some kind of candy display that said “Kick the sugar. Keep the candy. ” on the side.

Oh ho, what’s this, I thought.

But then I pick up one of the bags and it says “3 grams of sugar per bag. ”

Well then fuck YOU for getting my hopes up. It should be illegal for them to say “kick the sugar” when they really mean “kick some of the sugar”.

That’s what prompted me to post this to Facebook :

Out : calling it “diabetes”.
In : calling it “sugar intolerance”.

Because if the world of food can bend over backwards to cater to people’s imaginary gluten issues, it can sure as fuck do the same for those of us with real problems.

Because yes, I am quite bitter about how the anti-gluten people have enormous numbers of products specifically designed for their entirely fictitious belief that gluten is bad for them when there are tens of millions of diabetics in the world with real actual scientifically verifiable medical issues and we have to limp along with a tiny number of products and even those might disappear any minute in favour of GOLD BUNNIES.

Is it any wonder I’m in therapy?

It went well enough. The death of my father is a huge topic, so it’s not like we could cover it all in one session. I am building up to writing that letter.

Although I dunno. Maybe I am doing myself a disservice by building it up as this big important thing. Maybe that’s just asking for procrastination.

Maybe I should be just letting out my feelings about my father’s death out in whatever form they come out and not worry about some big deal artificial exegesis.

I know that so far, I have barely nibbled the tip of the iceberg that is all the feelings that are going to come up now that he is no longer around.

Hell, I know that his death isn’t even really real to me yet. I know, intellectually, that the world no longer has Larry Donald Bertrand in it, but it will take some time and a lot of catharsis before it really hits me emotionally.

Well there’s no wrong way to grieve. I will do whatever makes sense at the time and feel my way through the process and get whatever needs doing done.

My word, I think I am actually starting to miss him.

More after the brake.

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Picard is harsh

No spoilers. Just : latest episode ending? Ouch,.

Feeling kind of raw and tender, and not just because of Picard. I think my father’s death is beginning to truly sink in and, unsurprisingly, it hurts like hell.

This is the sort of thing that is difficult to intellectualize. So I won’t even try. I do that way too much anyhow. All the matters now is the emotions.

He was my father. He was a short-tempered, impatient asshole who could not or would not stop himself from attacking those he loved and, as far as I know, ending up dying alone as a result.

He was a survivor of a hellish nightmare of a childhood due to his father, my grandfather, basically being Satan.

Grandpa was the sort of guy who steals money from his employers in order to go out drinking and gambling and chasing women, and when he got himself a gal, he would take her home to the house he shared with the wife and kids and fuck her right there on the bed he shared with my Grandma.

He beat the crap out of his wife and kids, including my father, whenever the hell he felt like it, molested any kid he could get his hands on, stole and/or embezzled from everyone he could con into hiring him, and was the main reason my father had a transient childhood because wherever they went, it was only a matter of time before they would have to flee the jurisdiction due to Grandpa’s evil, evil ways.

Makes me wonder what the fuck HIS childhood was like.

So compared to that, my Dad did quite well. Grandpa set the bar pretty goddamned low.

But I still lived in fear of my father’s temper growing up. We all did, my mother included. One of the happiest times in my childhood was when he was gone on some kind of government job for two weeks.

We were so relaxed and happy then!

And so there’s doing better than his Dad did…. and there’s nevertheless still doing a pretty shitty job overall.

When he was on his tirades when I was a kid, he would say “Oh that’s right, I’m such a bad parent. Look, I don’t drink. I don’t gamble. I don’t chasewomen… ”

And I would think, woop de frigging doo.

But when I learned about his childhood, it all made sense.

My father was a very poor parent.

But I loved that son of a bitch, nonetheless.

And I miss him.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.