It’s Nata’s death anniversary. I go to bed feeling like there are knives in my stomach. I wake up feeling the same way. It’s hard to explain how this is, that the sensation of knives is there even if I don’t think anything. Even if I am just breathing. I can make it go away, but I know it isn’t really going away. I have just decided not to feel anything. It’s pure emotion. It isn’t emotion in response to a thought. It’s not creating more thoughts that spiral down. It is completely and entirely emotion, that I can allow to drift into thoughts that then help me process it and could, conceivably, make it better. But I can also just let it remain there without thinking anything.

Partly because of that, I couldn’t really sleep. I half did, but it was the lightest sleep imaginably except for maybe four hours of it. I think between 11 pm and 3 am I really did sleep. The rest of it, was a long cat nap I kept waking up from.

But also I am worried about C’s teasing situation. Actually, it isn’t teasing. It isn’t gossip. She just doesn’t know the word gossip. She keeps saying teasing. I told her yesterday to tell people she as my adopted daughter. Our relationship is interesting to students because it feels secret to them and forbidden, and also they have no category for it. It seems secret mainly because I am private, because I get insanely annoyed with Country X patterns of relating and I wish people would talk one at a time and I get fed up with their total lack of restraint of curiosity. It’s their culture, but it’s the thing I can’t stand, especially because talking across a language barrier involves an intense kind of concentration that is exhausting to do for 8 hours a day. So I talk to C alone a lot.

If it is public and if they have the right category to place it in, there’s not much that’s very interesting about it. They’ll shut up and move onto a juicier tidbit.

She won’t tell anyone though. She agrees to and then can’t bring herself to. So I am going to have to do it. It’s hard for me too, because it brings up all of these feelings of grief for me. This is my present. It recalls all this complicated grief for the past.

I think who I should tell. Who can I tell in a way that is natural? I don’t tell students personal things. We get as far as what I ate for lunch and what country I am from. I guess I can tell a few of her friends. I talk to them a bit more. It’s more natural. It might seem natural I talk to them about her. It seems insufficient. They aren’t the ones gossiping. She says the boys are the ones gossiping.

Anyway, I decide to post on her Facebook wall. Wider audience—she has 300 friends almost. I could be telling anyone, and maybe one of them has a mouth.

So I write this: C, I am so proud of my adopted daughter and happy you are in my life. If I went searching for a daughter purposely to find one, I could not find a better one than you. I know you are not perfect, but none of us are and you try harder and have a softer heart and a better character than most anyone I know. I will always be there for you and hope you will think of me as your mom forever. Please study hard and don’t forget education is your foundation for the future.

Who knows what that will do. Two students “like” it, but they are not at our school. I am not even sure who they are. I think I know one of them from last year. The other one, I am not even sure about.

So there’s that.

The goal for today is to get through it, really. If I can do something good, that’s a bonus.

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