Has it really been 250 days?
How quickly and dramatically life can change.
How quickly and dramatically life can end.
How quickly and dramatically the world has turned inside-out, upside-down, and spun, swirled, and swivelled around.
I’m dizzy. I’m lost. I’m confused. Yet here I am, wandering this unknown and unwanted path without a clue of where I’m going or what lies ahead. Some days this fact scares me, bringing me to my knees. Other days I simply ride the waves while knowing there’s nothing I could have possibly done that could have changed what has happened. This also leaves me with the knowledge that there is much I cannot change for the future… I do not mean this in a helpless way, I mean this as a plain fact. There are things we cannot change; there are things we cannot control. As much as we like to think that we can always do something about anything, it is not realistic in thinking we can necessarily change the outcome. Again, not meaning this negatively, but I think many of us here can understand that. Regardless of the amount of hope, love, dreaming, or pleading, the outcome is where we stand, facing the reality of no control.
…So, as I mentioned, I walk this path through the dark, through the fog, through the storm, without control, without an idea of where this path goes, without my husband physically by my side… I have grown to hate the word ‘hope’ because ‘hope’ encompassed our unfulfilled goals and dreams…. but I hope this path has some clearing again one day. Until then, I continue to wander through the cloudy chaos of no control.
I haven’t written for awhile. I haven’t felt like speaking to anyone; I haven’t wanted to visit with anyone… (except for Mark, which of course is impossible.)
Over 2/3 of a year has now passed. It still seems about making it to the next day, the next week… I still don’t know what for. I spend much of my time alone outside of work, and am finding more and more that I don’t enjoy spending time with others. Their trivial complaints and nonsensical conceptions are as much endearing to me as they likely find my aloofness. My decreased desire for conversation is reinforced when they ask questions just to get me speaking. In the earlier months I appreciated their questions as a way to give me something else to focus on, whereas now it feels like an invasion of privacy (despite that I’m fairly certain it’s not… It’s likely what regular people do in conversations). Speaking everyday at work feels like enough, despite the epic emptiness and loneliness I feel constantly. I miss my best friend, my lover, my husband, at every moment of every day and night. This new life as one, just one, is…….. I don’t even know how to finish that sentence. It’s horrible. It’s shit. It’s fucked up. It’s lonely. It’s not what I bargained for. It’s not what we planned. It’s not…. It’s not.
Each day, each hour, I feel scared, powerful, broken, independent, lonely, committed, lost, blessed, shattered, loved, hated, strong, and decrepit. It’s exhausting. Physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting. I know the only one who can help me is myself, yet some days I do not have the strength. I guess that’s where we have others to rely on. …then we’re back to the beginning, where I currently feel so antisocial that I have no desire to converse with anyone.
So January has arrived…
Despite multiple messages asking what my plans were for the evening, there were no invites out. Honestly, I wouldn’t have gone anyway, but it would have been nice to know that my friends wouldn’t want me left alone as a sad lonely widow on New Year’s Eve.
Spent the afternoon, evening, and night watching movies. Took myself to the cinema, to be where we were at this time last year, to see the next movie in the sequence. It was my first time to the movies since his birthday when we went together. The cinema was a place I didn’t want to face since his passing because it was a date night thing. …Being home alone with my thoughts seemed like an even scarier idea tonight though.
I made it through the movie, and bolted as soon as it finished. I didn’t want to see snuggly, lovey, kissy couples wishing one another a happy new year. I didn’t want to see any clocks. My goal was to get home and fall asleep without seeing it was past midnight, despite knowing it already was.
…..and there’s the ride check. Out of all the people I could end up speaking to first in the year, it’s a police officer. The last time I spoke to a uniformed officer was when I was being told that every attempt to revive my husband was unsuccessful… They had “done all they could”.
…and here an officer stands, telling me happily that I was driving down main street as the new year rolled in, and proceeded to wish me a happy new year while my face started to tear up. There went the last shred of my avoidance attempt, and on came the tears. The screaming began shortly upon making it into the house. What a way to ring it in.
Fuck 2014 for taking Mark away. Fuck 2015 for coming without his physical presence. Fuck each and every year without him by my side. And fuck the ‘happy new year’ sentiment that people still insist on sending while they get to kiss their loved one and hold them tight.