Adventures of a Shockingly Average 30-Something

(title is a "Mean Girls" quote, in case you were wondering). Ok so. In my health class on Monday, we had a guest speaker who came in and talked about grieving children and how it usually takes three years to fully grieve, and how death impacts children greatly and everything. And that got me thinking... my great grandmother (we called her Nana) died when I was (I think) in 7th grade. So I shouldn't have been over that until 10th grade. But I think I was "over it" before it even happened. I hate talking like this because I hate even thinking about it. I hate myself for thinking the way I did back then. I look back now and wonder how I could have been so awful. Because you see, I didn't like her. I didn't hate her, but I didn't like her. I never minded her until she moved in with my grandparents. There were times, not all the time, but there were some times when I would wish she was dead so she wouldn't live with them anymore. And then...

I thought I posted this on here already, but I guess I didn't. Two of my friends and I did the Cinnamon Challenge! It was so so so gross, but it was fun too. Watch it? :)

Dear Candis, It’s been exactly a year since you and your mommy moved away. It’s been a year since I last cuddled you. It’s been a year since the last time you sat in my lap, and we watched some episodes of Dora. I don’t think you knew what was going on that night. I don’t think you really understood that you and mommy were leaving. But I think you did know that something was different. You were still happy and smiley because that’s just who you are, but there was something else too. You seemed a little confused, like you were trying to figure out just what was going on. I went back upstairs to where I lived, so you and TT could eat dinner, and I asked your mommy to come get me before you guys left so I could say bye to you, one last goodbye because who knows when the next time I’ll ever see you again will be. She almost forgot, but she remembered right at the last minute. You were in the car already, buckled into your car seat, with your winter jacket on. It w...