Hello dear reader(s)!
I am going to attempt to lighten the mood of my posts here, while still admitting that I am very much grieving the loss of my wife. We’ll see how this plays, but I don’t want to enter a major chronic depression, so this is the balance I can strike today.
I have heard that you are not supposed to make major decisions within the first year. While I do not agree with the arbitrary timeline, I do agree that you should not make ANY decisions until you have had time to get to a less foggy point. For me, that day was yesterday to where I now feel comfortable making even the most basic decisions. Major decisions are still off the table, but basic is seemingly okay since yesterday. I think. How basic? Well…
1. Deciding to go into the room you need to go into. This seems simple. You have to go to the bathroom, so you go to the bathroom. Until you get into the bathroom and think that you need to start cleaning it out and putting things away. Then you forget you had to go to the bathroom in the first place. So you decide to continue cleaning and move out of the bathroom and into another room. You remember you have to go to the bathroom when your body decides you have 10 seconds to get there. You barely make it. Repeat for about a week.
2. What clothes to wear. You decide you are going to wear something comfortable and cool for the cleaning and packing things away. Okay so far. Then you get a wild hair and decide instead to drop off some of the things you know won’t be kept or given to friends and family to a donation center. Then you drive halfway there and realize you never put the bags in the car. So instead you decide to get some things to replace the things you can’t look at again or do not fit with a no-longer married person. (Example: floral print bedding). Now you are officially a person of Wal-Mart.
3. What to eat. Eating is hard enough, but you know it is necessary. So you work on deciding what kind of calories you will need for the next few hours, while trying to keep it healthy so you can take care of your body in the stress it is under. But then you end up doing a lot more than you thought you would be able to. You don’t notice you are hungry. Then you near collapse, and notice you are dropping weight like a hippie dropped acid.
4. When to sleep. Last night I didn’t sleep until 1. I was up at 7. The night before that I fell asleep between 9 & 10 and was up at 6. Before that 8 & 9 and was up at 9. My cats are seriously pissed at the lack of routine, and may be contemplating my demise.
5. What to watch. While in the hospital, I watched comedies. When Hannah was in and aware, she wanted action movies mostly. Mindless entertainment is the key. Afterward I am finding myself wanting to watch comedies, but feel guilty for wanting to laugh at this time. Plus, I think I have gone through any decent comedy on Netflix that aren’t super dark already. Dark comedies while grieving aren’t that comedy-like. They are just dark at that point. Darks. Not darkies, you racist.
6. How much to exercise. My abs are sorer than the lips of that guy with the herpes outbreak on his face who you see at your bus stop. Normally, you can feel when you are going to overdo something, but when you are grieving…not so much. You keep going to work off the rage and get those endorphins. Then you wake up the next day, and can’t breathe. Now you can’t do abs today, and feel like a sloth.
7. Coffee, or no coffee? Usually this would not be a question. Coffee is the answer. But when you grieving, you get agitated and may have trouble controlling your outbursts. Coffee does not help with that. Coffee also makes you poop, and if your digestive system is like mine under stress…that isn’t really a benefit.
8. To blog, or not to blog? I love blog-type-thinging. I do. But how I can write anything when everything is fresh? If I want to write about something else, how can I when it is the main thing on my mind. How can I spin a tragedy, into something lighter? If you are still reading this, you know the answer is, “You can’t, obviously.”
9. Leaving the house. I need to go somewhere. Okay, I will go. Or I won’t. If I do, will I remember my sunscreen and hat? What if I see people? What then? Maybe I want to see people. Maybe that would help. Maybe I never want to see another person ever again. What if I miss an important call or text? I still have one yogurt, I don’t need to go to the store. No, I should leave, it would be good to get out of here for a second. Can you curl up in a ball in a grocery store aisle, or is that still a cultural taboo?
10. Running the dishwasher. Sometimes with my immunity, I need to run the dishwasher just to sanitize. Usually, I wash my dishes by hand, but every so often I will need to run them through. Especially while organizing and cleaning, this becomes more important. Did I put my water-glass in there? I’m really dehydrated from crying, and it is hot and dry. Why would I do that? I also need to eat breakfast and washed the dishes I would use to do so. No seriously, this is happening today. Like right as I type this.
Bonus: Whether or not to hire a live-in babysitter. It is obvious that I still am functioning on a level far below that of your basic infant. Perhaps, I should hire a babysitter. Although I think paying a 16-year-old girl to take care of me would be a little creepy. I am not Jared Fogle, after all.