Tuesday, June 09, 2015

Where's Waldo?

It's been 4 months since my dad died.  It's been 3 months since our dog died. I'd like to think that I am moving forward.  Perhaps there is proof that I am since I no longer cry as I fall asleep and I no longer cry as I'm waking up. But I still cry. The sharpest pain has diminished to a dull ache, with smaller moments of sharp pain.

Every day there is an ad for upcoming father's day.  Every day I get an email from a pet store. Every single day something reminds me of the pieces of my life that are missing. I can't bring myself to form the words that explain my loss.  I can't say the dog's name. I can't look at photos.  I can't breathe.

I am lost. Don't get me wrong, I know where I'm sitting right now (though some days when I'm waking up I'm none too certain what city I'm in...). But I 'm lost in an entirely different place. Most people who go through all this have some routine to return to.  A sense of "normalcy" that I haven't had for a few years. Without that root, I find myself adrift.

I don't want people to worry about me. I don't want you to worry about me. I put on a brave face and I post one pleasant thing each day on Facebook or Instagram.  Even the worst day always has one good thing happen.  Coffee - good. Found a quarter - very good.  Sunset - excellent. Ice cream - freaking fantastic. Then there are the other 23 hours and 45 minutes to deal with. If I'm lucky, I can sleep through 6-7 hours.  Which is an improvement from the four hours I was getting when I having vivid dreams about my dad and/or the dog.

Previously when I was drifting, I assigned myself tasks. Tasks like laundry, bake bread, create a book based on a vacation, etc.  I'm doing laundry.  I'm in Palm Springs so it's mostly t-shirts and swim suits. It takes a couple weeks to really build up a full day of distraction. We are borrowing a friend's house.  It is not outfitted to really go to town and bake.  Besides, I've lost my appetite and my ability to follow an entire recipe.  I've tried making a list of things to work on, but I can't seem to finish making a list. Even writing this post has petered out and I can't remember where I was headed when I started it, and so I don't know how to end it.

I'm killing time.  I'm letting myself heal.  At least I hope I am.


Jules said...

Love you. <3

Rachel V. Olivier said...

2015 was the bitch that kicked our ass, alright.