July 24, 2016

Anger and Fear

We’ve been watching Weeds on Netflix.

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Tonight, Nancy said, “He had a heart attack. Now I have no one to talk to.” I woke up this morning feeling angry. I have been told this emotion is coming but have been surrounded by so much love and kindness and sadness that I haven’t felt it yet. I was angry at being alone in my bed. I was angry that I was single again. I was angry because we had such an amazing sex life, and I am alone. I was angry because he was my partner, the one I told my daily bumps to, the one who told me his. The one who sometimes showed me how I wanted to behave, who taught me by just being him. The one who kissed me and loved me and wanted to make me smile. Who once said to me, “Stop being so cute!” I replied, “Are you sure you want that?” “No! No, you’re right!”

And yet here I am, alone. But he didn’t leave me. He didn’t take away his love. He wants to be right next to me, making me come, making me smile, making me coffee when I wake up two hours after him.

I’m not angry at him. I am angry at the situation. No one chose this. No one did this. No one can tell me to take responsibility for what happens in my life, not around this. Even the grieving and moving “through” and healing and hurting and having good days and bad, and feeling lost, and feeling grateful for the time we had and the lessons I learned. No one can tell me to do it differently, and I can’t choose how I feel each day.

I can only choose what I do with those feelings. Sometimes, I will be in the middle of the conversation and suddenly I imagine myself wailing on the floor right here, right now, like I did in that hotel room. I snap myself out and find the thread of the conversation and jump back in. My new catch phrase is, “I’m sorry, I missed that, can you please repeat what you just said?” because my brain keeps drifting into uncomfortable places. Which is all part of the grieving process. I am processing in real time. I can’t stuff it and ignore it; it won’t let me.

I slowed myself down, and I feel better. Today was going to be overwhelming and when I felt my limit coming on, I took care of myself. Fortunately, the plans I knew I needed to skip were canceled anyway, so I was able to go home, relax with a friend, and then put on my jammies and work on my new schooling. It was hard to focus, but it will take practice and come in time. Same thing with learning my limits. It is hard to say no, but I need time and lots of space to turn inward.

I guess I am learning that there is a “through” this. I am somehow doing it, my brain is doing it for me, and I am just allowing myself to follow. I think I want to be back on that hotel room floor feeling the grief fresh and raw and terrible. Maybe I shouldn’t fight it when it comes, but get myself out before I panic. I have to work through that moment, or it will be ice in my heart for the rest of my life. It hurts my stomach when it comes. It hurts my whole being. It is raw fear.

Tonight, I chatted online with a woman I barely know. Seven years ago, she lost her life partner shortly after they moved in together. He died suddenly one night while recovering from surgery. He was in his 30s. She is way more spiritual than me but still really good to talk to.

I have become part of a club I didn’t realize existed and never knew how much I never wanted to join.

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