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?
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?
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