Grief

Oh there has been so much time since my last post... but really? There has been nothing interesting going on. I have been down and tired and it's still migraine season apparently. None of that makes for interesting writing.

My Family Therapy class is over. I have one more thing to write, but that's due next week. There is plenty of time for me to procrastinate. One interesting thing: yesterday in class we covered "special topics" and had 4 guest speakers. One of the speakers covered grief and the family. After my stunning performance the last time we discussed grief in class I was overjoyed. This time I took half a Xanax and focused on breathing... but I did still learn some stuff.
Apparently, in the first year following the death there are typically four or five separate peaks of sadness... and the 3-month point is one of them. So this weird funk that I've been in and the way that I have been mentally retreating from everything is all totally normal.

I hate normal.

Yesterday when I got home (after what had been a long but relatively good day) there was an envelope from my mother-in-law in the mail. I knew right away what it was and I froze for a minute... the world did that tilt thing. Bean went into caretaker mode, but I said, "No, I'm OK. And this is just going to hurt." So she sat next to me as I opened the envelope that contained my copies of the death certificate. And I cried. A lot. Again.

This is going to sound dumb...
I know he is dead. I mean, I was there and I touched him and I KNOW he is dead. But now he is officially, unconditionally and completely dead. Now there is proof.

I guess it's sort of the equivalent of receiving your divorce papers in the mail... you know it's coming, but when you get them it's hard all over again. Even when Bean's dad and I got divorced - we had been separated for years before we actually divorced. We were both with other people and we had figured out how to be friends... We even held hands as we walked into the lawyer's office to start the process. Even then when I got the final papers I was sad.

So I am sad. And in a "typical grief" emotional peak. I am still standing, though. Still getting out of bed. Still moving forward.

Thoughtful Friday

... joy and sorrow are inseparable. . . together they come and when one sits alone with you . . . remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

-Kahlil Gibran

Family Fun (!)

Soooooo.... yeah.

By the time I left work yesterday I was dreading spending time with the entire-damn-family. I mean, my sister and I get along in theory, but I just mostly wanted to take a nap, eat some food and swim. I got to mom and dad's and nobody was there. Nobody.

Mom called my cell phone and said that my sister wasn't coming because her friend Sherri (white-trash whore) didn't have anywhere to go for the 4th so they were going to stay home and cook out with her. (I would just like to point out that in that situation I would so TOTALLY have just invited my friends to come, too. MY friends are well-behaved enough to spend time with my parents).

ANYWAY, mom and dad had gone to another cookout for a few hours and then my uncle was going to come over and the four of us would eat steak.

So I took a long nap, ate some steak, watched a movie while we waited for it to get dark, and then we got into our suits and floated in the pool while the neighbors put on a fantastic firework show. It was honestly the best 4th of July I've had in a long time. Floating in the water in the dark with green and purple and orange and white sparkly exploding overhead.

I think my mom was hurt that nobody else came, but dad seemed relieved... I think for him (and, frankly, the rest of us as well) the grand kids are great one at a time, but all at once can be overwhelming.

The sucky thing is that I'm working both jobs today and I feel like hammered shit. I didn't sleep well last night (quelle surprise) and now I have badbadbad heartburn. The reflux kind that makes you feel like you have been drinking battery acid. Good times.

Hope your 4th was fun!

Thoughtful Friday - Strength

You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, "I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along." . . . You must do the thing you think you cannot do.
-Eleanor Roosevelt

Family Fun (?)

I can't remember the last 4th of July I spent with my family... Maybe when my brother was a baby?

Somewhere between Christmas and Bartleby's death my sister stopped ignoring me and her husband (gasp) started emerging as a reasonably nice person. I have actually stopped calling him "the baby daddy" and started calling him my brother-in-law. Like, to his face and stuff. He also stopped calling my mother a bitch... and has been (gasp again) invited to my parents' house this afternoon. And it is reported that he might actually come.

So my dad will burn burgers and hot dogs (seriously, I was in my 20's before I realized you could grill without charring) and we will all play nice and swim with the babies.

It's weird how death changes things... the brother-in-law's dad died just before Bartleby... maybe a week before... and the combination of those two losses pushed my family back together in a way that we haven't been able to manage for at least the last three years or so. There are still issues, but everyone sort of reached out reflexively and met in the middle.

It's a good thing... I think. We can at least all start to heal together and move forward.

So happy 4th of July everyone! Don't blow your hand off with homemade explosives!

Better

Today I feel less fragile... less foggy.

Though last night was odd...
The doorbell rang at 9:30 and I got scared. "Fight or flight" scared. It was just a guy trying to sell newspaper subscriptions, but he was really pushy about it and I felt very alone and exposed. After he left I was jumpy and nervous about being alone in the house. (I know what at least one of you is thinking and no, I do not need a gun. For the love of sheep).

I also did some cleaning last night and found more of Bartleby's things. I don't know if I will keep any of them or not. I have decided to wait until Bean gets home and ask her if she wants anything. She has been really sentimental about him lately... I think my forgiveness theory has legs. I also feel (today anyway) that the man he was - the man who loved us - would be happy with the fact that we are starting to be happy now.
I am starting to forgive myself for letting it get so bad before I acted... and I am starting to feel more like myself than I have for a long time. I am also starting to loosen my grip on the idea that marrying him was the biggest mistake I ever made. Dismissing four years of my life as "total mistake" is not helpful.

I have been working half-days this week and sleeping in. I have had the most bizarre dreams - they are almost bad dreams, but not quite. It's like they could slip over and become unpleasant, but they manage to hold steady until I wake. And they include the strangest ties with reality.
In one of my dreams I was out to dinner with Lara and Shelly and Michelle and Sally and our server (a Kiersten, of course) took Lara's knitting bag. It was a small pink bag... one that I actually own, but I don't think Lara has one. The rest of the dream was me trying to get it back for her.
In another dream I was on an island somewhere with Michelle and Bean and a lot of people I didn't know and we were supposed to meet for dinner but I couldn't find the restaurant... I just kept walking up and down these streets and sometimes Bean was with me and sometimes she was with Michelle.

Analyze away... I'm just happy that neither of them starred Bartleby.

Tonight I have a hot date with some of my favorite women! It's going to be great fun - even though it is going to take place outside. (I don't like the outside).

Me-Row?

I keep having the same dream over and over and over. It's very unpleasant, so I will spare you the details, but it is about Bartleby and it is horrifying and it won't go away.
It also makes me not want to sleep.
At all.
I don't have the dream every night, but the threat of it - the possibility of it - is enough to keep me shaky.
So on very little sleep I feel fragile and easily spun. And incredibly needy. And insecure.
Needy like, "Hi, please spend lots of time with me so I don't have to be so alone!"
I actually like spending time alone.
Insecure like, "You love me, right? Tell me again. And again."
I am not this girl.

So I have been maybe a little withdrawn... and maybe a little quiet...
Because I don't want to overwhelm everyone around me with my neediness and insecurity.

Now I know how Sammie feels when I leave for a few days.
When I come home she is all over me and very insistent about the petting and scratching.
And she has this purring meow that sounds like "Me-Row?"
I think Me-Row means, "Oh my god you're back! Why did you leave your kitty alone for so long? Don't you know that I love you and need you to open the food bag and also scratch my ears?"
Eventually she realizes that I'm not going to leave and I do love her and she calms down.
So, Me-Row.
I'll be better in a few days.