Time moves slowly

This is a Really Real Widow Post.

Tick-tock-tick-tock.

This week is moving so slowly.

Friday and Saturday will be three years but the time leading up to it drags forever. I just want to get to Sunday so Parker’s Deathday can pass and I can get on with living.

Last night I was so angry, and I know it was partially related to grief and widow bullshit and it wanted to direct itself at Sarah Jane even though she did nothing wrong. I felt the need to be a total bitch so I completely withdrew.

Eventually I sent her a message telling her why, but I still felt like shit for avoiding her all night.

And today I’m replaying my last day with Parker over and over in my head. It doesn’t help that I woke up thinking today was the 7th.

I wish it was so I could get that day over with.

When I relive that last day I’m reminded why I’m so afraid to get angry with people. So afraid to want help, so afraid to need someone to do more than they naturally want to do.

I just needed more help around the house but I didn’t know how to ask for it without it turning into a fight. And no matter how much I try to tell myself that the fight didn’t kill her, I will always feel like it did. I will always feel like my need for more is what pushed her over the edge.

I’m seeing the house the way it was set up on that final day.  Seeing her in her spot on the old couch. Seeing her on her ankle scooter wheeling away from me. Hearing the last few angry words we said to each other before I came out to sleep on the couch.

And then I’m feeling the absolute silence when I went into bed a few hours later. The silence I didn’t recognize until I tried to wake her up the next morning.

It’s replaying over and over again in my mind. I can see all of the spots that I could have done something differently, something that would have saved her. I’ve thought about them a million other times.

But I also know nothing will bring her back. It is as it is meant to be.

But I can’t help wondering.

I wish it was Sunday already so this would go away.

Well Played . . .

This is a Really Real Widow Post.

I took the dog out tonight and the yard was filled with fireflies.

Normally it’s a big deal being that Parker was my firefly and all.

But tonight, it was meh. They were just fireflies.

No Big Deal.

It’s kind of where I am with a lot of my grief. Things that meant a lot are no longer as big of a deal. I’m moving forward. It doesn’t mean I’m leaving her behind, it just means the pain is fading. Unfortunately the memories are fading too.

It’s not all good.

But I stood there and watched while the dog was doing the thing that dogs need to do in the front yard. Trying to look in the right spot while one blinked. Catching them just out of the corner of my eye.

And I realized one was getting closer.

And it landed on the door jam right beside me.

And I smiled.

Well played, Parker.

Well played.

Was It Ever Different

This is a Really Real . . .Something? . . . Post.

Maybe Relationship.

Maybe Widow.

But no matter what the subject is, it’s Really Real.

You should all know by now that I check Facebook memories and Timehop every single day, without fail. It lets me see how far I’ve come, lets me see the amazing things I’ve done with Wonder Woman and Kidlet and Batwoman, and before that it shows me little gifts in the forms of messages left behind on my wall to and from Parker.

A year ago I was in a partial hospitalization program. I was in a severe mixed mood episode, was both suicidal and manic. Wonder Woman had been staying with me for 2 months but was officially moving her stuff in.

Now, a year later, I’m reading those posts and remembering when we first moved Wonder Woman’s bed into the house and got rid of mine. Remembering all of my stress over the moving happening too fast and not fast enough. Wanting her stuff here now but holy shit her stuff is invading my space and changing the way I live.

It all feels like it’s from another lifetime.

It’s only been a year but it feels like she’s been here forever.

I can’t imagine this house without her shoes (so many shoes) all over the floor in the living room.

I can’t imagine not knowing the recipes I’ve learned to cook because it’s food she likes.

I can’t imagine coming home and not seeing Trillian (her sweet kitty) in the tub.

I can’t imagine waking up or going to bed without cuddles, almost every single time. 

So many cuddles.

But at the same time, I absolutely can imagine the day that this all goes away.

I have, almost the benefit, of knowing that life can change in an instant.

Sorry friends, this is where the sweet sappy post gets grim and dark.

I still check her breathing, I still panic when she’s late, I still wonder who I would call, I still wonder if they would know to call me if she wasn’t home.

I almost can’t imagine a day that she wasn’t here but at the same time I’m constantly aware that any day this could all be taken away.

But I try, so hard, not to live like I know, while always living like I know.

The benefit to widowhood is that I appreciate all of those little things that I mentioned before. I even appreciate things that would have annoyed me in life before death.

I wish everyone could learn the lessons without the loss.

What can you be more appreciative of?

Logistically

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

Today is a day of logistics.

I woke up super early and popped out of bed. I’m definitely feeling better emotionally because I don’t dread the day as soon as I open my eyes.

Another sign that I’m doing better is that I’m working on “doing all the things.” I start an accelerated 6 week college course next week and they opened some of the course work early so I started working on that. I also did more work on plane tickets for an upcoming trip. I scheduled some appointments and also sent off an email asking my primary care NP for a letter of support before she leaves the practice.

Busy, busy, busy.

And if feels much better than sitting around staring at a computer screen scrolling Facebook endlessly.

Unfortunately when I’m stuck in that low grade depression all I really can do is sit and stare at the screen. I can’t find the motivation or interest in anything else. I want to be interested, I really do, but nothing grabs my attention.

Of course, even though I’m interested in doing stuff now, doesn’t mean I can figure out what, exactly I should be doing once I run out of logistical stuff to work through. I want to craft more stuff, but can’t figure figure out what to craft. I can only cook so many dishes. I can only plan meals so far ahead. Only so much school work has been opened.

I could clean more of the house but, lets not get carried away here, I’m not quite that bored.

I did finally color my hair. It was so faded it wasn’t even pastel anymore, it was, well, I’m not sure what it was but it was kinda gross. Now it’s bright and vibrant and you can see me coming from a few miles away.

Now I get to sweat pink and purple at the gym for the next week. I’m always afraid a drip of bright pink is going to run down my face while I’m on the elliptical. That’s the one problem with these bright colors, but I can’t imagine anything but my signature pink and purple.

Have you ever done anything wild with your hair?

Question of the Day: So Misunderstood

Today’s question is:

What’s the one thing that people always misunderstand about you?

A lot of people think I don’t like them when they first meet me, especially if it’s in a group setting.

I have an amazing case of resting bitch face.

I’m super uncomfortable talking in groups of people until I get to know everyone.

Pair those two together and it looks like I basically hate everyone. Especially since I tend to look people in the eye when they talk. It seriously looks like I’m giving each person the stink eye when really I’m just being attentive to what they’re saying.

I actually make a conscious effort to put a different look on my face when I first enter into a group but it’s easy to lose focus of that once I get engrossed in the ongoing conversation.

What about you?

What’s the one thing that people always misunderstand about you?

Craft a Happier Day

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

I’m having one of those chicken and egg moments. Which came first?

Am I feeling better because I started crafting?

Or was I able to start crafting because I was feeling better?

It’s hard to tell.

Sometime late yesterday evening I pulled myself out of bed and started playing around with the vinyl cutter.  I’ve made quite a few things since then and now I want to make more, more, more!

Eventually I’ll run out of ideas and then maybe I’ll be bummed again, or maybe I’ll pick up one of my other crafts.

I have plenty of supplies but only so many projects. It’s frustrating that I love to craft but have no interest in selling (it takes the joy out of it).  I can only store so many bracelets, vinyl projects, etc and I don’t always feel competent enough to give it away as gifts most of the time.

Anyway, back to the chicken and egg problem.

When I’m depressed, I can’t make myself get involved in this stuff. I can’t even come up with ideas of what to work on. I just have no interest.

Eventually I can force it, and then I can normally run with it.

Maybe that’s because I’m already pulling out of it, and the crafting just helps me come the rest of the way out.

I’m the same way with any activity. When I’m depressed nothing seems interesting, but once I can get something to take hold, it helps me pull my way out.

The gym definitely helped keep me going this past week. I went 6 days out of 7 and feel like I’m back in the groove of that. Batwoman and I sat down today and scheduled this week out as well.

For now I feel like I may be on stable ground, and I hope I can stay here over the next two weeks. This time of year is so, so hard and honestly, I think I’m handling it really well.

Time to go craft a happier day.

 

Question of the Day: On a Boat

Today’s question is:

What would you name your boat if you had one?

First I did some research on the web, what exactly goes into a boat name.

I consulted this article from esurance.

Apparently it can be almost as complicated as naming your kid! You have to consider safety for ease in relaying the information to the authorities, what the name says about you, and also the gender of the name (boats are generally considered to be female).

So, what would I name my boat.

I think I’d go with something in memory of Parker, honestly.  Maybe, Remembering Her.

I’ll have to think on this one more.

How about you?

What would you name your boat if you had one?