I woke up and decided about mid-morning that I was going to choose resiliency, today, babe. It’s just so fucking lonely, otherwise. I can embrace this and explore my hobbies and better myself and fill this bottomless pit of grief with love for me from you and from myself. I can do what I think is right for me. I can do that, I think. I’m just sick of being so sad. I feel like people don’t want to hear about it, anymore. And, quite frankly, I don’t want to talk about you and it with most of the people I encounter. But I also sort of do. The discomfort of these conflicting feelings makes me want to retreat into the apartment and be alone, but then being alone is lonely and sad. It’s picking the lesser of two evils, to stay in all the time. Going out is really hard. I am okay just walking to Cleveland Park but when I take the metro, taking it with you is all I think about. When I walk down Connecticut Ave, I think of you walking down 27th, parallel to me, walking to that fucking bridge. and when I cross the crosswalk to the elevator, I see you cross, too. It’s haunting, babe.
But this is my narrative. And I can be gut-wrenchingly sad with grief AND navigate this life without you. I can feel lonely but still feel hopeful. I can be filled with anger and still be able to forgive. Not myself, but others. How can I expect anyone to know what I need, when I don’t even know what I need. We are all trying our best, and whether that means together or apart, I can still handle this. I can handle this. I can try to find in myself the love you gave to me so freely.
I took Hugo to Tregaron, yesterday, and we sat in the meadow and cried. Walking him through the trails, I saw us walking him, together. I saw us at the top of the trail talking to that woman with her dog when Hugo was just a puppy. And I felt you there with me. I feel you more now than ever before, like you know I need it more now, now that the shock is gone and reality is settling in. Ugh.
I am proud of myself every time I go out, but as soon as I get up to go, I realize I don’t really want to go. Like I was in my old mindset of you being alive when I buy the ticket or make the plan, and then when it’s time, I remember what it’s like now. Even if I continue to feel like I don’t want to be somewhere, in the beginning, I usually end up having a good time for the middle of it, and then just have to soldier through the ride home. I’m saving every ticket I get from going to stuff, because I see it as progress.
I gave platelets, yesterday, and I did not have a citrate reaction, this time. All it took was like 6 tums. I wonder if you ever experienced the citrate reaction.
I think a big part of me being able to look through your computer and really investigate everything that happened that night was due to how much shock i was in, because it gets harder and harder to think about what you were possibly thinking. Listening to your music, reading your books, just even being in the neighborhood, it’s all getting harder. Sometimes, I get the urge to walk to the Taft, and when I do, I don’t worry about jumping like I used to. I think I would go and sob and sob and sob and sit there where you jumped. I think it would be crippling, but I think I could do it. Sometimes, I think I need to. Fuck that bridge. It does not have power over me.
I can feel my brain craving distraction and wanting to compartmentalize the grief, which I know is not productive, but I think with the distraction of late, it got a taste and now that’s all it wants. I haven’t been able to really read through the growing pile of grief books or listen to the grief podcasts- I found them comforting at first, when I thought they would provide answers, but right now it’s too difficult. I start crying like 2 minutes in. I’ll have to work on that, because I do think they will help.
I find myself not wanting to be so vocal on Facebook. I want to be open and normalize this experience and normalize talking about mental health but it’s not coming to me like it used to- the feelings that I felt like I needed the world to hear and for my pain to be acknowledged.
I think I need to up my anti-depressant.