9 months/39 weeks/weepy/expletives

I’m feeling kind of depressed this morning. Probably has a lot to do with the fact that I stayed up until midnight playing Skyrim, and woke up around 7:20 this morning. I grabbed the clothes that were easiest to get to, didn’t take a shower, and got McDonald’s for breakfast. The coffee helped, anyway. I didn’t get up in time for a walk this morning either (yesterday I got in 1.5 miles before work). Plus, it’s been 9 months today and also it’s been 39 weeks today. And Thanksgiving is in one week.

I always considered Thanksgiving to be our anniversary, because I remember lying in bed with Matt on Thanksgiving morning, 2007, and telling him for the first time that I loved him and that I had decided that I wanted to be his girlfriend. He never thought of Thanksgiving in the same way because he had already decided that he wanted to date me, but whatever. It was our anniversary in my mind, and next week would have marked 6 years together.

I’m liable to start crying at work if I keep thinking about this.

Some days…I just want to go home and stay there indefinitely. I want Matt back…and since I can never have him again, I want something else that will make me feel better, comfortable, at home. My house doesn’t make me feel loved or anything, but it’s better than being at the office.

I miss Matt so fucking much. Nine months…I guess I knew that it wouldn’t be a ton easier by this time, especially because of the holidays. After New Years, there’s a month to go before the one year mark. I have no clue how I’ll react to living that day again. I am such a broken record…saying the same things over and over, crying about the same things, doing the same things to make myself feel better. I feel stable some days. Other days I don’t give a flying fuck. I can’t believe that the love of my life left me. Abandoned me. Killed himself. Thought that he wasn’t worthy of my love, and thought that he couldn’t give me what I deserved.

I don’t know when I’ll be ready to start dating again. Because I still find myself comparing other men to Matt, which is natural, but I find myself not wanting to be interested in them if they lack certain qualities that Matt had. Which is SO DUMB. Other times, when I’m not feeling like this, I think I am ready to start caring about another person. But…I still am looking for the same connection that Matt and I had. When people say that they don’t believe in True Love or in marriage, I want to yell at them. I had a perfect marriage, until things started getting bad – but that was only going to make our marriage stronger, if Matt had been able to keep going. So, yeah, ultimately my marriage was not perfect. But…I guess all I’m saying is that it wasn’t my fault.

Fuck. Sometimes…I still just want to DO SOMETHING TO FIX THIS FUCKING SITUATION. But I still can’t. There is still absolutely nothing that I can do to change anything, except as I’m able to change and deal internally. I don’t know how to make it stop hurting so much though.

reminiscing, briefly

I was just thinking about two specific times I remember seeing something and thinking – “I want to be like that,” and then consciously trying to emulate that behavior.

The first time was when I was reading a Jeanette Oak book waaaay back…um, when would that have been? I think we were living on Walker Road then, so I was 10 or 12? I have no idea. It was 15-20 years ago (that’s weird to say). As I remember it, the protagonist was attending school, and she and her roommate had just received grades for a test or class or something. The protagonist was bragging about how she’d gotten a good grade – almost perfect, and her roommate congratulated her and was very encouraging about it all. The roommate left at some point, and the protagonist saw the roommate’s test score – it was perfect. She was struck with how boastful she had been, and how humble and kind her roommate was. I remember thinking that I really wanted to be like the roommate.

The second instance was in high school I think, and we were all at the church building on a Friday. A bunch of the moms were sitting outside under the awning, and Dad was around doing some work. Another mom showed up and there were no more chairs outside; Dad noticed all of this, and went inside and brought her a chair without calling attention to himself at all. Now, I realize Dad does this kind of thing all the time, but for whatever reason I really remember it this time, and I remember thinking that I want to be the kind of person who notices things like that and does them without being asked.

Obviously I have not achieved these goals yet, heh, but I just thought I’d write them out because it’s interesting to me that I have such clear memories of them.

And now, for something completely different….

By which, I mean that I saw Spamalot twice this weekend, and this post is going to be exactly the same as most of my Monday posts.

So this weekend was amazingly pleasant (for the most part), but the most productive thing that I did was cleaning the house on Saturday. I did not tackle the garage, but everything else is clean. OK…so I keep the living room and library and dining room clean on a regular basis. The bathroom gets a little messy, but I bought a new shower curtain to (I hope) help motivate me to keep it looking nice. The BEDroom is the room that is usually messy though; I have a horrible tendency to throw my clothes on the floor or dresser or wherever, rather than actually putting them where they’re supposed to go. So yesterday I put away all my clothes, dusted everything, swept, and even bleached my linen duvet set THEN IRONED THEM.

So yeah, clean house makes me feel so good that I don’t ever really want to leave it. So, heh, I didn’t until I had to go to work this morning.

M&M came over Saturday evening and we hung out a bit, and then after they left I decided to hook up the xbox to see if I could get it to work. It was a whim. Mar has mentioned that playing video games is better for you than sitting around watching non-interactive TV (which I do sometimes…) so I figured that as long as I already own an xbox and at least one game, I might as well see if I can use it. I had never used an xbox controller before, and had to google “LT” and “RT” because I hadn’t even noticed that there were buttons down there…. But anyway, once I figured out how to use the controller (and cleaned the disc drive so that it would actually read the CD), playing Skyrim has turned out to be loads of fun. Who’d have thought?!

My plan for this evening is to go home and straighten up the kitchen, then play more Skyrim. It was kind of scary how quickly time passed while I was playing – and i wouldn’t even notice until like two or three hours later. Geez. Heh. There’s SOOOOoooo much for me to figure out…Ryan came over yesterday and started a new player, and had skills within like 10 minutes that I haven’t even figured out after 10 hours. There’s plenty of time…..

Triggers and stuff

Helen asked if I would be willing to help out with the production of Spamalot tonight because there were a few people who couldn’t make it. Bill was recruited as well. I had a good time (I suck at people-ing though), and enjoy being around them. But, of course, I couldn’t keep from thinking about how Matt should have been in the back seat next to me driving there and back. But he wasn’t. I was by myself (with Jared’s car seat).

I started crying on my drive home, and ended up on the floor in the kitchen, crying. It’s so utterly absurd that a person I loved so immensely and completely could just die like that, and never be an active part of my life again. On the other hand, it’s also fairly absurd that I’m able to cognitively acknowledge that this kind of thing is possible – and be afraid of it happening, and maybe even expect it to happen – but when it actually comes down to loss like this, I had absolutely no fucking idea before. It crushed me like a load of bricks. It tore my life into little tiny stupid fragments.

And I can’t fucking blame anyone or anything. When I’m crying, I want to scream out – “HOW could you DO this to me?!?!” …but I don’t, or I feel guilty when I do. I can’t be angry at Matt. Of course, it ultimately was his decision, but there were so many outside forces that were beyond his control that I am a complete scumbag if I’m mad at him. I can’t be mad at anyone – there’s no one to be mad at. People die. Everyone will eventually die. Sure, I was hoping to spend MY lifetime with Matt, but that didn’t happen. I have to face my gift – I’m still alive. I really, really, really don’t want to sometimes. Sometimes I miss Matt so achingly much that I just don’t want to fucking keep going. This still happens, almost 9 months later. I wonder if Matt imagined that it would be this excruciating for me.

And now I need to distract myself. Crying seems so fucking pointless sometimes – it doesn’t make me feel better. It doesn’t bring Matt back. Matt can’t even see that I’m crying — no one can. It just freaks out the cats.

I really can’t believe Matt left me sometimes. Fuck.


Huh. Next week will be 39 weeks, and exactly 9 months.

Sometimes, when I’m alone at home, I just stand there talking to Matt. What I’m really doing is talking to myself, and the topic usually turns to how unfair it is that I can never talk to Matt again. I miss his perspectives, insights, laughter, support, love. I miss letting down my guard and being able to be completely open with him. I miss being able to expect him to microwave me soup and run me a bath when I’m feeling sick. I miss talking to him, and being in the same room without talking.

Sometimes, it’s so hard to focus on the good things that are still part of my life. There are a TON of good things still in my life, and good things that are developing, and good things yet to come (I hope). I try to be positive, and a lot of the time it isn’t even that much of a struggle (but sometimes it is).

I enjoyed the holidays last year so, so much. Now that I know more of the context surrounding them (for Matt), I think Matt might have given me those last few months as a gift – so that I wouldn’t have to deal with widowhood in the midst of Christmas. It’s speculation, but plausible and maybe even likely. I’m not looking forward to the holidays this year though. My 30th birthday is in two weeks, and I don’t even give a damn.

Sometimes – a lot of the time – I have to force myself to keep caring, or at least to keep acting like I care. I suppose that I’ve had to do this several times throughout my life, but it’s been pretty consistent over the last 9 months.

I should stop waiting for something to happen. I should start making things happen.

Doll heads in autumn, and other random shit

I should really work on my titles.

I had a good weekend and feeling like telling someone without imposing on them – good ol’ blog. You people read this because you like me, right? And are at least mildly interested in how I spend my weekends?

On Saturday, I got up kind of early (8:30 or so). One of my coworkers is a seller on eBay and Etsy and even has a couple of booths. She and a few of her friends were cleaning out some of their stockpiles to make way for new inventory, so Mar and I went to her home in Fairview to peruse the selection. I came away with 2 old wooden window frames (sans the glass), a beautiful green stoneware pitcher, a mirror tray, a couple of pretty blue bottles, and BEST OF ALL a doll.

Let me tell you about the doll. I don’t normally bat an eye at them, but this one is SO COOL. It has spent the last several decades in a suitcase in some lady’s attic, and came out only after the lady died. She was something like 90 years old, and had this doll since her childhood. She was apparently married twice but didn’t have children from either marriage, and I would really love to hear why she held onto this doll for so long (but oh well). It’s a very large doll (think Big Baby size, if that means anything to you…Mom and L). The head doesn’t seem to have been attached to the body in a long time. The skin-colored coating on her head/arms/legs is peeling very badly and gone in some places, which gives in an extra level of creepy. The eyes are VERY creepy. Here’s a picture.


I went to Michael’s yesterday hoping to find a bell jar, but all they had was this jar. I pulled out some of the stuffing from the body to rest the head on. It’s in the Library with my other creepy paraphernalia. Heh heh.

Anyway. After Fairview, I took Ryan and the kids to the Elves’ Faire (a fundraiser for a school, but it was enjoyable). After that, met Katie for drinks…and then went home.

Yesterday was also a good day. I forgot how much I adore autumn; the leaves and temperature and sunlight do me so much good. I got up and took a long walk yesterday morning, then after I got back home I started cleaning the house. I still need to actually wash dishes, but everything else is clean and lovely. My house is so pretty.

Unfortunately, I have to start working. But I’m very pleased with my level of productivity this weekend and my overall mood. This morning I woke up sad about Matt again (I assume I had dreamed about him but had forgotten by the time I woke up), but these morning walks have been proving to be very helpful. Even if I’m still sad after I get back, at least I feel productive and like I CAN DO STUFF. It’s the little things.


I hate it when I dream about Matt. I woke up this morning and couldn’t remember what I had been dreaming – nothing except that Matt had been in it. When I wake up after dreaming about him, I find it harder to get up and have a good day. One exception – when I know that he’s dead in my dream. But most of the time, he’s alive and well. (Sigh)

I get so fucking tired of crying.


Really bored at work today.

I found this article on Reddit and am posting it here instead of Facebook because for some reason, this stuff is controversial. The article is a critique of a story in the August 2013 Elle, in which the author of the story says that a doctor finally was able to diagnose her allergy problems as being caused by eating genetically modified corn. I have been a little confused about the whole GMO debate because the ability to genetically modify food seems like it’s a good thing to me. Don’t get me wrong – I would avoid eating them if just to boycott Monsanto, but I don’t know if that’s actually possible.

This article explains and debunks the allergy side of the debate anyway. One of the scientists interviewed (Richard Goodman) explains that YES, new proteins (potential allergens) CAN be created by GMOs, but these proteins are “evaluated specifically for potential risks of allergy” (it’s on page 2 somewhere – I’m not citing this shit).

I get annoyed about this issue because I feel like people are buying into the hype without doing the research. So if you’re interested, you should check out this article. And if you have opinions, I’m interested in hearing them.



I made a discovery yesterday – if you Google “I hate Lipscomb,” I’m the top search result! This is why I get so many damned hits on that post, which is not even an interested entry. I almost want to go back and change it some so that it’s a better rant, but I don’t think I’m going to do that. I was talking with L about it some yesterday and decided that I don’t want to edit old blog entries as a matter of principle. My thinking is that the entries are a history of ME, and if the person who I am now goes back and changes anything, the entries aren’t as pure.

I do kind of feel bad about that entry getting attention, though, because Steve Prewitt himself called me a couple of weeks into taking that Bible class and told me that they had taken another look at my file and determined that due to new Bible rules, I in fact already had all my graduation requirements and could go ahead and drop the class/cancel my loan and graduate. It was a VERY happy day.

Doesn’t mean that I don’t hate Lipscomb, it just means that I think it might be a better place since I went to school there.


Today has been busy. I have literally had to calm myself the last few times that the phone has rung because I feel like screaming into it. But I wouldn’t do that. I would kinda like some stress balls right now, though. Less than an hour to go and things have calmed down/I have caught up (thus the blogging at work).

I miss Matt.

Grief is such a strange, strange thing. Matt is not always in the back of my mind; sometimes I completely forget that I’m sad. Frequently though, I still see two different paths in my life – the one that I’m on now, and the one that I would have been on. I was better at being single in my 20’s, guys. These days I just want to go home after work most of the time. Not like anything much is going on there – it’s just comfortable and peaceful and I don’t have to exert myself talking to people.

I’ll start getting out more. The first step is getting more exercise, which I’ve been doing. I’m not sure what the second step is going to be, but I’ll probably know it when I see it. Honestly, this is more normal behavior for me anyway; the first few months after Matt died I was desperate for company and to be surrounded by people who love me. I guess it’s probably good that I’m getting back to my normal introverted self, right? I mean, as long as I don’t go overboard and become an obese hermit – right? I don’t foresee either of those things happening, so I’m think I’m OK.

So…a week into November, I’m remembering that I need to start thinking about Christmas presents, and I want to make it known that this year’s gifts aren’t going to be NEARLY as great as they usually are. I’m doing better but I’m still not happy-chipper-motivated all the time, especially when it comes to planning Christmas gifts. (*sigh*) I might even buy everyone’s gifts this year. Sorry in advance, but I’ll try to do better next year…..