What is this?

So Saturday evening, my friends took me to Rocky Horror Picture Show.  I dressed as the Criminologist, of course, I have the costume from doing the shadowcast at Burning Man.  Won a prize, two tickets to  The Greatest Show on Earth singalong.  Huh.

I was worried I would be miserable. Saturday was the 27th, the two month anniversary.  RHPS had been a thing we did together.  I was sad, but only got teary eyed once or twice.  I was not miserable.  I had a good time.  I am not used to having a good time, it caught me off guard.

Sunday I had to do the prep for a colonoscopy.  This is very distracting.  I didn't think about Larry much at all.  Some, and I was sad. but I didn't have a weeping breakdown.  True, I had the gasping tears for a few moments now and then, but mostly watched crappy kids Halloween TV between being hungry as hell and running to the bathroom. 

Monday, I was sad, and got choked up talking to Dr. Foley, but I didn't feel crushed.  I was able to have breakfast in the cafeteria after and didn't dwell on the hours I had spent there while Larry was upstairs dying.  It was mostly just breakfast with Callie.

Oh, I am still very sad, I miss Larry with the totality of my being, physically and emotionally.  Yet something feels like it popped, or released, is is broken.  All the stuff I need to do feels distant. His closet, the garage, the patio, his leatherwork, the candles, the soldering station.  It doesn't matter as much today. This feeling is akin to apathy or disinterest tinged with unhappiness.  I don't not care, but the stress is taking a hiatus. I dread the unguarded moment the grief will sink in sharp little teeth, and rip my guts into gaping wounds.  Or not.  Right now, it feels like not. 

I am puzzled.  I thought I was headed into some rough territory and instead, I feel resigned.  Am I broken?

10/27. 1120 am.

Yeah, sure the waves might not be crashing as often, or be as high and hard, but what that analogy never tells is you the simmering feelings in between, the anger, the rage, the irritation, the loneliness, the confusion when you want to tell him something and he isn't there, and is never going to be there again, and that gut deep grief which never quite recedes completely.

Two months. Feels like two lifetimes. Or one intertwined charmed life torn in twain, roughly, without care or thought or meaning.

Waiting for the "it gets better" part.

Shutting down, strange times in this town.

There's been a lot of closings and demolition in Ogden and the area.  Some of this began before we even new Larry was ill, but with his passing, it feels unsettling to see what else has departed.

Sears, of course.  Larry rushed to get batteries for his power tools on sale.  That's not a good sign for the mall.  We knew Tandy's was moving, but I haven't seen the store in the location which was advertised.  The old building is gone.  Golden Dynasty is "Available".  That will be torn down, no doubt at all.  Dean's Automotive where Larry parked has been sold.  They let Nate park there for a few hours, but just this once.  Nate says all the WalMart in Idaho drops are gone, and that he had to take runs which do not pay as well so he could have weekends off with his family. 

Our favorite Denny's is gone, and TGIF, although happened some time ago.  Our Big 5 became a car dealership.  So did the eternally going out of business furniture and mattress place.  That was before, but it feels like it fits.  Like Eastside Diner becoming a Starbucks.  The hardware store by the dollar store on Washington.  The diner with pies that Dad liked.  The cool German place on 25th.

I know, life goes on, progress moves forward, but damn. I feel left behind.

Struggling with the WHY.

Oof. I want a positive blog.  This morning I wrote checks to put in the mail, one for the new rain gutter downspouts, one for the Pineview water on the property tax.  I washed the icky playa towels.  Put away clean dishes.  As usual, fed the cats, meds, scooped the litter boxes.  Watched some recorded TV.  Think I have found Logan's gauntlets.  Took the laundry downstairs. Took Larry's shoes out of the front room and put them in an empty bin in the spare room. 

But I cannot quit crying.  Oh, it is on and off, but racking when it comes.  I cannot figure out WHY.  Why should I do anything?  Why should I care?  No one cares about how the house looks, or if the trash is out, or if I let the dishes and laundry pile up because I have enough clothes and dishes to last for months. Sure, I have to keep the bills together if I want to keep my home, and a semi-civilized exterior appearance.  WHY.  Why did Larry die?  What makes sense about THAT?  Nothing.  No reason at all.  He was vibrant and active and healthy.  Now he is dead and the WHY escapes me.  He took care of me.  I took care of him.  We took care of the house and work and chores and cooking and mundane crap for each other. For each other's happiness.  Now, I struggle with WHY.  Why should I care without him?  What am I alone?

Sure, people care about me, but on quiet mornings, it is hard to hear anything but the rustle of leaves in the street.  I care about myself, selfishly, but the WHY of my existence is elusive.  The world is horrible. My little corner of the world is dismal.  WHY did my charmed life turn into a soggy circle of Hell?

No, I am not suicidal.  That is madness and I am not up for that.  No worries.

I guess my why is going to be to see how everything plays out.  Why should I care?  Because I do want a comfy home, for myself and for the cats. I do want to make and create again. I suppose I will pull it together eventually, somehow.  I am a tough old bird.  I don't want to be, though, I want to be Larry's love, pampered and cared for. 

Fuck you, Universe, fuck you sideways with a chainsaw.  If I could find it, fuel it, and get it to run.  Fuck. 

What dreams ...

10/21.  Two months since he went into the hospital for that last time. 

Last night I dreamt I was sitting on the bench at the end of the bed. Larry came in, dressed in his coveralls, like he does when it is cold out. He crouched down and told me all the things he was working on. I put my hands on his face, I could feel his beard beneath my fingers. "But, honey," I said, "you're dead, you can't do that."

"I know, but I don't have time for all that stuff. It can wait. You need me and there's work to do."

Yeah, that's Larry.  

And I can't find his overalls...

So There's That.

Today I was supposed to go to Infinite Possibilities.  I cannot.  I always went with Larry, it was always a date.  I do not want to go alone.  I do want to see people, but I haven't the strength to do it in that context. 

I sewed the lace feathers on my Odin hat while watching Thor Ragnarok.  I put clean sheets on the bed.  I paid the last medical bill for Larry's last stay.  $150 co-pay on a bill of over $46K.  Thank you, honey, for working so hard in the Navy so we have excellent healthcare.  I pulled Larry's gloves and motorcycle gauntlets and beanies out of the scarf drawer.  Dammit.  I took the unopened Walking Dead DVDs downstairs; he will never see them.  I washed my hair with his shampoo, and can hardly wait until it is gone. It is good for my hair, but I dislike the scent.  I'm too cheap to toss it. So there's that. 

Yesterday Desi took me on errands, I got a flu shot (and cried, I was always with Larry), mailed a package (Larry's Chewie onesie he never got to wear), and went to the commissary.  I did not cry at the commissary for once.  And then Michael's, where I did not cry, just got a little choked up.  Called Massage Envy to unfreeze my membership, and had a good cry because the girl helping me remembered Larry and his bowties, and how wonderful he was. 

I need to go outside to do things.  I do not want to.  I might not.  I need to get things ready for wet cold weather.  Fuck it.

This is a new crying phase.  He is not coming back, he is not on the road, or on deployment.  He is gone.  He won't carry the laundry up or refill the litter jug.  He won't be arranging things endlessly outside.  I don't need to be sure the sheets and blankets are on his side evenly.  I can leave crap sitting around and he isn't here to kvetch at me.  I don't have to cook dinner, I can have yogurt.  He isn't here to take me on drives and complain we have too much to do.  No more Saturday morning sex.  We always had morning sex on weekends and turned on the TV to the classic rock music station.  I can't turn on that station now. 

I hate this part.  Weeping way too much becomes physically painful and upsets my tummy.  I cannot breathe.  I know, it gets better.  I just really, really hate the process.  I hate Bad Days.

No Zero Days

I learned this phrase from someone with chronic illness and depression.  I've never been the type to languish in bed all day, but I found the concept useful.  After my surgeries, and now in this confusing time, the zero days is something I cling to.

A zero day means you didn't even get your basic life tasks accomplished for the day.  Everyone has a different level of zero, so you need to create your own definition, your own checklist.  For me, the goal would be to expand my definition of zero.

Here's what my zero, and my zero plus, looks like.

First and foremost, feed the cats and make sure they have their medicine twice a day.  Punkin is very vocal about her breakfast, so she's a built in reminder.

Next, make sure I have coffee and my water pill, followed by hot food and my supplements.

Shower and dress.  I might not stay dressed all day, but I do dress.  Hair washing is only every three or four days, and a struggle when I'm achey. 

Scoop the cat box.  Since I had foster cats downstairs, Harry won't use the basement box anymore.  If I don't keep the upstairs box clean, he poops on the little rug next to it.

The dishes.  Doing the dishes is my absolute must do.  I missed that yesterday.  There's clean dishes in the dishwasher, and three dishes and two drink glasses in the sink.  That's a minus for me.  I rarely miss doing the dishes, I hate stuff in my sink.  I always wash the cats' plates though, twice a day.

Spread up the bed, put dirty clothes in the hamper/basket.  Do laundry as needed, fold it and put it away.  Not daily, but something to not let get out of hand. 

Mail.  Bring in and sort the mail.  Throw away the junk immediately.  Deal with the rest usually takes me a day or three. 

Bring in the stupid newspaper.  Look at it, throw it away.  Clip coupons. 

Trash.  No trash left sitting around.  No food left out either.  Throw away the coffee filter. 

Pay the damn bills.  I keep a paper brain for this.  I missed one bill already this month.  Yikes.

Zero plus is adding more basic chores.  Vacuum the front room, sweep the kitchen, answer emails, water the houseplants, scrub the toilet.  I killed my rosemary plant while Larry was ill.  Tidy up. Wipe off the fridge and dishwasher.

Cook or bake.  I might zap food, but actually cooking is a step up.

If I am really on top of things, I clean the stove and the tub.  I hate these chores.  Then there's dusting.  Ugh.  So much dust.  Filters, water, swamp cooler, furnace. 

Then there's outdoor chores.  Ugh.  Larry usually did them, but I did the weeding and bird feeding.  Poor little things must be hungry.

Then there's painting, and sewing, and other crafty stuff.  This takes energy and concentration.  I am on short supply on both.  Getting there, one step at a time.

Spa stuff.  My skin hates me now.

Exercise?  Ha.  Hahahahaha.