Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Days Like This

Days like this make me want to pretend I do not exist.
To go home.
Take off all my clothes.
Crawl into my bed.
Pull the covers over my head.
And sleep until it is all "better".

It is not one major thing.
It is a million tiny things.
Nothing that most people cannot handle.
Things that will resolve themselves but in the mean time really drain all the energy from my being.
Things that must be taken care of as soon as possible.
Things like these that remind me of how fragile I still am.

One of my cats is a little sick.
I am sure she is fine.
Or will be fine.
But the thought of her not being fine rocks me at my core.
I cannot lose either of my cats.
I heard a few weeks ago that cats are great because they keep us in a routine.
Stable.
And when that stability this morning was rocked just a little it has a pendulum like effect on me.
A little rattle at the top has a huge impact on the swinging mass.
I cannot take this rocking.
So I cancelled my long overdue massage and made a vet appointment.

Then there is the rain.
It is dreary and gloomy.
I was caught out in it.
No umbrella which is not unusual for me but annoying nonetheless.
It was not just a sprinkle.
It was a downpour.
And I was almost late to class.
In true Florida fashion, it turned to a slight sprinkle about sixty seconds before I got into the classroom building.
After soaking me.
Upon leaving the class, same thing. Reverse order.
Starting sprinkling and then started to downpour.
Fuck.
Ninety minutes later, I am still wet with no reprieve in sight.

And on top of all this, it is exam week.
Third week of class and I have two "lovely" exams to prepare for and take.
So add another wonderful stresser on top of the growing list of normal stuff.

Then, three weeks to my anniversary I realized this morning.
I can already feel it creeping into me.

It is only halfway through this day.
And two days into this month.
And I cannot disappear.
I must continue to pretend to be okay.
To put on the mask and smile.
Make small talk with my peers.
Do my various chores and jobs.

Ugh...

4 comments:

Janine (txmomx6) said...

Star,
I hope you never feel the need to put the mask on here .... never.
Write what you need to write and be yourself.
We get it.
Janine

Jen said...

I am sorry for all you went through today. That just might not be such a bad idea....going into bed and pulling the covers. Sure goes a long way at times!

My daughter was hit by a car last June and I have been handling everything to the best of my ability. In December I had to put my cat down. I had had her for 13 years, since she was a kitten. I felt like that was icing on the cake! The straw that broke the camels back. I felt my whole world closing in around me. I felt I was suffocating. It was so strange. I thought I can handle such a thing as my daughter's accident, but sprinkle this on top and I turn into a ball of mush!

Take care and I hope you are feeling better tomorrow!

Juliana said...

You have every right to feel this way. My brother died in April and I see in my moms eyes every single time I see her how hard it is sometimes just to breathe. I wish that I could give you some words to comfort you, to ease the pain...but I cannot. I have no idea what youa re going through. I can just say that we are here for you in blogsphere. I really hope something today makes you feel a tad better.

Crash Course Widow said...

When my cat--the only pet we had left at that point--got super sick the month of the 2nd death anniversary, I became a fucking mess. I'd thought I was holding myself together fairly well--had been dating my friend (although was wanting to break up by then) for 5 months, was doing "better" griefwise, was doing relatively okay with the 2nd death anniversary--and then I felt apart over the cat. So I completely understand, and remember fully how painful and powerless it made me feel. And it's one of those weird, unknowable, really maddening things about grief: we get better over time at dealing with the normal and "big" stuff in grief, but it's the so-called little things in "normal" life that bring us to our knees. I think it's simply because grieving takes so very much energy that there's little to nothing left over for the little things that we used to have no problems with. I know I've experienced what you're describing a million times...and I can give testimony that it does get better, does get easier...but it doesn't go away entirely. I've had a doozy of a 3 weeks since spraining my ankle...really felt like I was falling apart, and I couldn't even figure out why (which is probably why my blog has been silent for 3 long weeks). I definitely don't feel as raw and fragile as I would have 2 or 3 years ago, but everything you described here fits my last month too...even at 4 1/2 godawful years out.

With your wedding anniversary coming up this month, be sure to cut yourself as much slack as you need. If crawling into bed or crying all the time is what helps you make it through it, then please do it. That 2nd year of widowhood is still so tough and awful. Be gentle with yourself, my friend, and please be sure to find solace and comfort from people around you who understand.

Many, many hugs, Star. xoxo, Candice