After one or two vodka tonics, sorry….

So today didn’t turn out quite so happily as I wanted it to.  I drove Ryan out to pick up his kids, and dropped them off at his mom’s house.  I came home and took a shower and all that, and ended up going out to the Brewhouse by myself.  I have always considered going to a bar by yourself to be something that only alcoholics do, but I was so lonely and didn’t want to spend the evening on the couch watching TV.  I didn’t go to Cafe Coco because I wanted to talk to people, and whenever I’ve gone there it’s always been to read or write – the people who decide to strike up a conversation are always just a bonus.  I know that people go to bars to not be alone, so I figured that at least one person there would be willing to talk to me, and for all I know it could be interesting.

So I went, and did meet a couple of people.  I asked one person what his “story” was (probably because he reminded me a little of Joel), and he didn’t really know how to answer that.  I told him that I just meant for him to tell me what the biggest milestones in his life have been (he had at least 20 years on me).  He still didn’t have much to say.  I related that after I moved to Nashville for college, I had given up a baby for adoption and my husband committed suicide 6 weeks ago.  He was…I guess kind of dumbfounded.  He said that in his 50+ years, nothing so dramatic had ever happened.

I told him that I envied him.  What I really meant is that he was lucky.  

These kind of life events don’t happen to everyone.  I know.  But when I tell people – because I do, because both of those things have been defining parts of my life – I don’t want them to pity me and be awkward.  “It is what it is,” as Ryan is so fond of saying.  It’s true.  The BEST that I can make of the situation — AND I MEAN THE BEST — is to learn and to grow as a person.  There will be other details that I discover down the road, but at this point, that is what I have learned.  

I’m interested in seeing how I change because of all of this.  I know I changed after Sarah was born (and, honestly, that’s probably the only reason Matt liked me enough to move in and eventually marry me).  I will never be the person I was on February 20, 2013.  That person died with Matt, and this is almost comforting to put into words.  

I miss him so much.  I can’t put THAT into words.  I doubt that it would help if I could.  


Here’s what I did yesterday.

I got up and took a shower and went to work.

I went to appointment #2 with my therapist. We talked, she read my journal entries since last week, and she told me that she really thinks I’m doing just as well as I can be and that I am amazing. It’s nice to hear that from a professional who knows a whole lot more about psychology than I do. I left feeling relatively good.

I went home after work, started a load of laundry, changed into some jeans, gave the cats some treats, and then went to Kien Giang with Ryan and Cathy.

After dinner (which was good), we went to McKays where I totally splurged and bought the Sex and the City box set for way too much money (but a lot less than I have almost paid for it several times at Target…). I also got a book by A M Homes, This Book Will Save Your Life, and Ryan got me a copy of Childhood’s end by Arthur C Clarke.

After McKays, dropped Cathy off at her car and then Ryan off at his car, and went home. Read some poetry. Cried. Looked at Reddit. Put my clothes in the dryer and then folded them. Watched some TV. Went to sleep.

All in all, it was not a bad day. I had a good time with Cathy and Ryan, and my meeting with my therapist was somewhat gratifying. I’m realizing and remembering that my life is going to be full of missing Matt for a long time/forever, but that doesn’t have to stop me from enjoying things. Missing him all the time certainly makes it harder for me to have a good time, but his absence does not preclude my pleasure. Not necessarily, anyway. Life comes before death. I am still alive, regardless of my feelings on the subject.

I am continuing to be amazed by the poems in Without. I might share some more – or at least stanzas – at some point.