Stagnant

It’s been a while. 

My laptop at home is kaput, and this greatly restricts my blogging ability.  This should be remedied soon.

So a couple of milestones have come and gone, one of which was Luke’s birthday on June 12th.  The day crept up on me suddenly, as those anniversaries tend to do.  I waited until the last-minute to decide what to do.  Originally I was going to spred his ashes at our beach, but once the day came I realized I wasn’t prepared to do that just yet.  It’s not like I feel his presence in that box, or would even really have a problem with them being gone; it’s just the physical act of doing it that I am not ready to face.  It’s the emotional impact it will have that is just too much for me right now; apparently I feel safer in my denial.

His brother and best childhood friends did take some of his ashes up to Alpental on his birthday.  They hiked up that vertical mountain to bring Luke back to the place he spent most of his younger days.  I feel so fortunate to know he has such a great group of guys to take care of him, and I’m sure this was a very emotional trip for them to take.  I will get there eventually, I’m just not ready to deal with the emotions as of yet.

For as much processing as I do and have done, and how “good” I seem to be doing, in all honesty, I am very lost right now.  I am stagnant in my life, feeling like I’m just floating through my days.  I don’t feel like I’m an active participant in my own life, but rather that I’m being lived.   When you are with someone for a while, you make plans.  We had dreams.  Goals.  When Luke got sick, the goals changed; suddenly our entire life was focused on getting him better.  And when he didn’t get better, the focus became dealing with those emotions, learning how to merely cope without him.  And now?  Now all that has passed.  It’s been 7 months, and while I’m still processing his death, I’m also trying to redefine myself as a single person with my own goals. 

The problem is, I don’t know what those goals are now.  I’ve been having major struggles with my living situation.  I’m still in the apartment Luke and I shared, and while I don’t necessarily feel his presence there, I realize I am still living that life.  A very wise person I spoke with compared it to going back and visiting your grandmother’s house.  When you return to that environment, you might revert back to old habits.  I know when I go to my grandparent’s house, I instantly crave Ritz crackers, because that’s what I always ate when I went there as a child.  Is it possible I’m still residing with Luke, even though he’s not actually living there?  I don’t know, it seems relevant. 

To be honest, I’m feeling a strong drive to leave my apartment.  I keep thinking ridiculous thoughts, like, “Maybe if my carpet were steam cleaned I might stay.”  I was able to take a step out of that and realize that I was making excuses for my desire to leave.  I’m afraid that if I do leave, I will wake up one day and desperately miss my home, and by then it will be gone.  I’ve been realizing lately that the past 7 months have been a blur, and I’m not fully aware of everything I am doing.

I rented a piano, for example.  Why?  What possessed me to go out and make a major purchase of an instrument I have no idea how to play?  One day I looked at it and wondered how it got there.  This happens with a lot of things.  The other day I looked at my kitten, Bean, and wondered when I got him.  Had Luke met him?  I have to do math to figure out my recent past.  Then it made me very sad to realize Luke didn’t know this little kitten who is part of our lives, living in his home, playing with our other cat. 

I’m aimless.  Depressed.  I’m trying to go to the gym as much as possible to get endorphins flowing.  I’m drinking again.  This was a conscious decision, it’s not something I could just fall into after being sober for 5 years.  These things seem to be an answer for me right now,things I have control over in my life.  I feel like I’ve become a little reckless in my moral scope and my life plan.  I could just as easily quit my job and move to New York, as I could buy a home and settle down.  For the first time in my life I just don’t know what I want, and that’s new territory for me.  I’m always the girl with the plan. 

Now my plan is just to wait.  To see what happens.  This hands-off approach to my life is uncomfortable, I’m used to being very decisive, setting my sights on something and going for it.  Now, I float.  I’m considering a new tattoo.  It’s a daily struggle to not sell everything I own.  The only thing keeping me grounded is my daughter, who does not deserve to be a victim of her mother’s aimless whims. 

And I still can’t cry normally.  I had to go to court to fight a parking ticket, and since it had to do with Luke’s handicap sticker, the judge asked me where my husband was.  I am a very calm and collected person, but that question sent me over the edge, into sobbing hysterics.  I was humiliated.  I had to take the rest of the day off because I couldn’t pull it together.  Who is this woman I’ve become? 

I need to make a date with myself to sit and listen to all the sad music I’ve been avoiding; drink some wine; let it all out.  It comes in uncontrollable bursts, and I think I’d make a great actress right now because I can cry at will, but I know I’m avoiding this pain.  It’s like when you find out you’re pregnant, and you have this day looming in your near future where you know you will experience unparalleled pain; you dread it, but you know it’s something you will have to do eventually.  And the result will be positive, I’m sure of it, I just can’t willingly jump off that cliff.

How long can I go without doing that though?  I realize through my inactivity and my inability to make these decisions, I’m thereby deciding.  But it seems all I can do is wait it out, or risk making too drastic of a decision to recover from.  If home is where the heart is, and your heart is split in two, where do you go from there?

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