Yoga for Healing

Sally and I went to a Yoga class yesterday. I have asked my body to contain me and keep standing through all of this, but I haven's asked it to be physically strong in a long time. There were poses I couldn't do anymore, and some that I could only sustain for a short time, but I did it.
After class I felt peaceful and stronger.

It is easy to forget that my body is reacting to the stress and trauma too. For the first few days after he died I was thirsty all the time. I was obviously mentally in shock... but it is easy for me to forget that the healing process is physical too.

After Yoga, Sally and I met Lara and Andie at The Best Bookstore Ever for lunch and then we went to Twist. Usually on Saturdays I settle in and stay until closing, but yesterday I found myself really tired by 4. I came home and slept until almost 9, made some dinner and then went back to bed just after midnight. Apparently I needed sleep. It didn't feel like my usual "sleep for escape," it felt more like "being OK is exhausting and I need sleep."
There is another yoga class today, but I'm going back to work at my other job tonight and I don't want to run out of energy halfway through my shift.

I think I'm just going to rest for awhile and then get ready for work.

Exhausting

Being OK is just flat out exhausting.

And I am OK.
Mostly.
But I don't realize how much effort goes into it all until I am about to collapse. By then it's usually too late... sort of like the early days of potty training - only with more crying and less pee.
The worst part was going to pick Bean up from my parents. They bowl on Thursdays... with lots of people from my mom's office. Lots of people who know what happened and who really want to know that I'm OK.
And I am OK.
Mostly.
But picking Bean up was at the end of a very (very) long day and the more tired I get the less OK I am. After about the hundredth sad look and concerned smile I got that prickly feeling in my throat... that "way too many people here" feeling. We came home and I made some orzo with marinara and lots of cheese.

I did have one sort of funny thing happen today... there is a therapy group for kids and their families after the death of a family member. They called me back today and while we were doing the initial intake the woman on the other end of the phone figured out that we are in the same MSW program and she is, in fact, in one of my classes this semester.
"You haven't been in class lately!" She said.
"Um, my husband died," I reminded her, "class seemed somewhat more than I could accomplish."
"Oh! Right!"

For the love of sheep.

But I am back in class - for what it's worth. I think I can make up what's missing in my addictions class... if I work my ass off and fudge a little. But my other class might be too far gone. I don't want to face it, but I can't afford to fail and I can't quit now.

It is just really difficult to think about working my ass off for class when all I want to do is crawl under the bed and just stop.

But I'm OK.
Mostly.

In Knitting News...

Did anyone else notice that Susan from Crystal Palace Yarns totally commented on my blog from yesterday?!? I KNOW!! It's sad how much that excited me. The only thing that would have been more exciting is if The Yarn Harlot commented. (Sorry Susan).

I do think it's cool that the company is interested in what the bloggers have to say because we are a powerful group and we can make things shake. "Word of mouth" used to be limited to the people in your general area - no longer. I had over 500 "unique" visitors last week alone, and I have a small, relatively unknown little blog. Way to go, Crystal Palace!

The other thing is that I started my very own support group on Ravelry - Yarnaholic's Anonymous. I need to slow down with this yarn ordering and buying just because I'm stressed or sad. We're going to support each other as we try to knit from our (rather large) stashes and try not to buy yarn "just because." Come and join us!!

Of Cruises and Socks

No creepiness last night. Of course, I took a sleeping pill and went to bed rather than going outside in the dark by myself. That might have something to do with it, but I could be wrong.

Bean and I had a really nice time with Emilie's mom and dad. We had BBQ and talked about their recent cruise. I really really really really really really really really want to go on a cruise now. Really. They went to Nassau and Key West... sigh. Can't the widow get a cruise?!? I so need an older, rich man who just wants to adore me and buy me things. Anyone have an extra one of those hanging around?

(Oh, Emilie? I'm supposed to subtly suggest that you need to give your parents a grandchild. I offered them Bean, but I think they were hoping for a smaller model. I reminded them that they had a new granddog, but that didn't seem to be quite what they were hoping for. I tried!!)

It is Wednesday, and Wednesdays are for knitting... so knitting shall resume. I have orders on the way from Knitpicks and from The Loopy Ewe that I am hoping to get today. (I know that you're all shocked. It is so unlike me to deal with stress by acquiring new yarn). I ordered all of the Knitpicks self-striping yarn that had purple in it, along with 4 sizes of 47-inch circulars. I have some serious sock knitting ahead of me, with The Monkey Swap and Sock Wars and all... and bean has been wearing her spring socks (basic sock recipe, 2-at-once, Panda Cotton in Picnic) EVERY DAY. I have to force them off her feet and into the washing machine. It's like the "barbie dress" she had when she was 2. We had to peel it off at night, throw it in the washing machine and get it dry and back on her before she woke.

I think she's trying to tell me that she needs more mommy-made socks.

Knit on, knitters!!

Ugh. Seriously.

Blah blah blah, Iraq. Blah blah blah, American freedom. Blah blah blah, economy.
All freaking day with these guys.
(We're airing the General Petraeus and Ambassador Crocker briefings today. Brief my ass).
It's booooooooooooooooooooooring.

I did get to have some cake, but there was a meeting attached.
Boooooooooooooring.

And it's rainy and cool today. I would very much like to take a nap... Can't the widow get a freakin' nap? Throw me a bone here, people!!

Bean and I are going out for dinner with Emilie's parents tonight. They are very sweet and they treat Bean like a grandchild. There are lots of reasons I am happy that Emilie and I are friends, and her parents are one of them. It's one thing to have people in your life who have known you for 20 years and still like you, but when their parents still like you too it's really cool.

Of course, they do think that I should go to Law School when I'm done with this social work nonsense, so they really are kind of like my parents. They're just a little more subtle about it.

Last night was weird.
It was my first night with no "babysitter" and KU won so around 11 there were lots of fireworks and stuff. It scared Bean so I charged out the back door to confront the guys next door (who I assumed were at fault) but they weren't outside. The fireworks were coming from a few houses away. It was cloudy and windy and there were weird noises and it was very creepy outside in the dark.
Then I realized that I was actually in my back yard and the recliners (THE recliners) were on the back porch. I wanted to go inside so bad, just to get out of the creepy dark and away from the recliners but I couldn't make myself turn around and I certainly didn't want to back into one of them accidentally. So I stood there. In the creepy dark. With the weird noises. Sobbing and shaking because I felt so scared and powerless.

On the one hand, my dad needs to pick these fucking chairs up before I have a full-on nervous breakdown about it.
On the other hand, I am a grown-assed woman and I know that the recliners are not going to hurt me. He is not in the recliner anymore and he is not going to hurt me. It's over, he's gone and they are just chairs.

Refer back to the creepy dark. And the weird noises.

And I did eventually take a deep breath and walk past the chairs and into the house... though it was the emotional equivalent of turning off the bedroom light and then making the mad scramble into bed so that the monster won't grab your feet. Apparently our fears don't go away as we grow up, they just get more personal.

Back to Work

And it's actually sort of nice. Nothing here has changed and I know exactly what I'm doing.
I spent the weekend with friends, knitting and eating and getting a tattoo and watching movies and... oh you noticed that one, did you? I will have a "real and complete" post about it when I get the pictures from Andie... but I finally have some ink.

Here's an example of how my brain is working at this point:
This morning I couldn't find my glasses. They had completely disappeared. I wore them to bed, took them off in bed and lost them sometime during the night. Consequently, I had to wear my contacts today. I haven't worn contacts in maybe 2 years... at least since before we bought the house. But I knew exactly where they were. My glasses from 6 hours before? Gone from my mind. Contacts from 2 years ago? First place I looked.

Bean comes home tonight... all reports are positive on her progress this weekend. They say she was a little cuddlier than usual but otherwise doing well. I really think that we are fine. The initial shock of it was intense and I still have moments of breakdown, but for the most part I feel... not terrible. The situation had become so stressful and unlivable... I would not have wished for this ending, but it is over and we can now move on.

I had a little moment of breakdown last night and Steve said, "Even if he had moved out when he was supposed to it still would have ended this way." There was nothing I could do. He had probably been sick since before we got married and he was not the type to comply with treatment - especially treatment that a) put him anywhere near a hospital or b) required him to stop drinking.

Deep cleansing breath.

So tattoo pictures as soon as I can get them From Andie and figure out a way to show them without being obscene... heh heh heh.

At Peace

I just got home from the funeral.
It was a lovely service. (Isn't that what people say?)
The (wonderful) amazing part was how many people came. My mom's whole department came. Almost everyone from the station came. The therapist I work with on Sunday nights came. People I worked with last year at Hospice came. All of his friends from high school were there... some of whom I had not seen since we were all in high school.

There was a lot of hugging and crying and also some laughing. It was exactly what he would have wanted and that feels good.

Thank you all for your comments and prayers and good thoughts. Bean and I are doing pretty well, considering.

His mother was concerned because they couldn't find his wedding ring. (He lost it over the summer). Before the funeral started I slipped my band off and my mom put it on him for me. Our marriage was good in the beginning and I have to believe that if he hadn't been so sick for so long that it would have stayed good. Finding out that he had an undiagnosed illness that has been brewing for years and years really helped me understand the last year or so of our lives together. He was probably sick long before we even got married.

I am at peace with this now. It may be a long time before I can get rid of the image of how I found him, but emotionally and spiritually I am at peace. (Yes, I know this is a process and that could change in less than a heartbeat).

I know that I did everything that I could do for him, and I loved him as well as I could. It is terrible that a 30-year-old man could die. It is terrible that his intelligence and kindness and potential are gone.

His best friend is coming over tomorrow to go through some of his things, and another friend will be by this weekend to pick up everything else so that I don't even have to worry about that.