Let's Do This!

 

Perception

 We often hear people talk about neighbors or friends of a person who has been arrested as a serial killer or pedophile or something else horrific. They say the neighbors and friends always talk about how nice and pleasant the criminal was and how shocked they were at this development, but "they" would say, "Oh he was an awful guy and I couldn't stand him. I'm not surprised at all."

I heard this yesterday on the radio as well as on a true crime show I was watching. In one case the perp was described as "kind, sweet ... would never hurt a soul ... would do anything for anybody."

Then I started thinking about my husband who was described the same way and in other glowing terms during his funeral service. He was all the things they said. But ... and this is a big "but" ... there was a side of him they didn't know.

That's the side that made me decide I had to leave. That's the side that had us living apart for more than 20 years. That's the side that he hid from everyone but me. Oh, lucky me.

Even his family and best friends have told me they understand and that they loved him but could never live with him. They don't even know the half of it. I assume that they assume it was his quirkiness (for lack of a better term) that made me leave. No. That enduring quirkiness is what made me stay for as long as I did. 

His friends and family apparently didn't know how mean he could be. Or at least they never talk about it. 

I will only give one example because it was the last straw and the action that made me realize I couldn't live like that anymore. 

I used to work a 3 to 11 p.m. shift. When I got home I would drink a cup of some kind of soothing tea. I would leave the cup and spoon in the sink. One night when I got home I opened the silverware drawer to get a spoon and found it empty. The next day I asked him about it. He told me he hid the silverware because he got sick of waking up to a dirty sink every morning. A dirty sink? A tea cup and a spoon?

I could give so many more examples, but I won't. I also know I wasn't perfect. The point is: Perception isn't necessarily reality.

Embarrassing

 This is a true story that was published in Woman's World magazine and they paid me $100.

After an eye doctor appointment, I was shopping for new glasses and, as you know, the selection process can be quite daunting. As I was looking at one wall of glasses I pointed to one pair and said to my husband, "Those are so ugly. Who would wear those?" I then heard a voice ask, "Can I help you?" I turned around to see the optician, who was wearing a pair of those ugly glasses.

Ideation

 First of all, I am not actively suicidal so don't worry about that.

I do, however, have frequent suicidal ideations. Mostly, though, I'm just hoping that I go quickly and easily. And fairly soon. I don't particularly look forward to getting old and having to depend on people to do things for me or take care of me.

With that said, the f'ing Buffalo Bills are making me want to stick it out for at least another year and a half or so. I would like to see them get back to the Super Bowl one more time (I'm not counting on a win) but it's painfully obvious that, barring a miracle, it's not going to happen this season.

Must be the universe has other plans for me and Josh Allen, Micah Hyde and the guys. I hope the Super Bowl is in the plans for next year.

Speaking of plans, I have no plans to kill myself. A few years ago I had a plan but that is no longer an option. I've gotten better meds since then, too. I'm wondering if I should ask my doctor for another meds adjustment. The only reason I haven't yet is that I'm afraid she's going to suggest counseling or therapy. I don't want to do that. I can write about my feelings, but I cannot talk about them. 

Dream a Little Dream

 I had a dream about GSG last night. I had lots of dreams about him in the months after he died -- at least once a week -- but haven't had one in quite some time. 

In this dream he and I and some other people were working on some kind of project together at his house. I came across a Latin word or a legal term or something (can't remember) and I said, "It would be helpful if we had a legal dictionary." GSG got up, went to another room and came back with some kind of dictionary, which helped me solve my problem. 

The rest of the dream is kind of fuzzy, but I do remember feeling good in it. 

Missing

I miss you and I can’t seem to fill the emptiness where you once existed – where your laugh could erase all the darkness; where I could do anything I set my mind to because you told me I could; where you held my broken pieces, put them back together and told me everything would be OK. 

I miss you walking into a room and having it light up like a billion new stars entered the sky.

I miss dreaming bigger because you told me I could do it.

Don't Care, Can't Care

 I don't feel all of this now, but I do feel some of it. I hope I don't go here completely. I'm trying not to, except for the "quick and passive" part. As soon as I get my apartment the way I want it (the way I want to be remembered) I'll be more than ready. 

Fetal position

Warm blanket

Cool pillow

Should be comfortable

But

Anticipation of the

Shrill meep meep meep of the alarm

Keeps me from getting that

Extra 45 minutes

Suck it in

Trying to fasten one of

Only two pairs of pants that

Fit me

Why can’t I get

One of those sicknesses that make you

Lose weight

Then again

I don’t remember

The last time

I ate a vegetable

But

Anxiety attacks in the

Produce section

Healthy women in

Yoga pants and

Perky ponytails

Look at me with pity

Or

I think they do

I wouldn’t do it

Probably

But

After a bad car crash

I wouldn’t fight

Sometimes

I wish for a crash

Or

Something else

Quick and

Passive

Can’t

Concentrate

Can’t

Find the right words

Can’t

Sleep

Can’t

Make phone calls

Can’t

Get warm

Can’t

Stop sweating

Can’t

Read

Can’t

Write

Can’t

Get rid of the headaches

Can’t

Care

All Gone

 I thought it might be traumatic when GSG's name came off the window where his office used to be. 

It is, but not as bad as I thought it would be. I'm more sad than anything else because whenever I drive or walk by it'll be just another reminder that he's not here anymore.

Class Reunion

 Before last weekend I had never been to a high school class reunion. (We did have one for the entire school after it closed -- Catholic, small -- and I went to that.) I just didn't have that many good experiences that I wanted to remember.

Or so I thought.

Friday and Saturday I had such a good time with the 17 other classmates who went to the reunion -- and their spouses. (Our class only had 58 people, and 5 have died.) I'm so glad I went. One of the reasons I didn't want to go before is that I didn't want to see the Mean Girls. We only had 3. One of them was planning to go (she even paid the $50) but didn't show up. My theory is that since none of her gang said they were going (even those who weren't mean) she was too much of a coward to show up by herself. Good! I know that's mean but -- f'ing good!

The Best Friend and I went together. Not even one person asked about that. Kinda weird, but maybe they're talking amongst themselves. Doesn't matter. I hadn't thought about this before but we hadn't had a picture taken together since 1976. It was a yearbook picture and we're "sneakily" whispering to each other. In the one picture that was taken Friday night, yes, we are "sneakily" whispering to each other. Just not as sneakily this time.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know I was pretty angry with him. I'm over that and just back to being confused. I'm not confused about how I feel about him. I'm confused about how he feels about me. I suppose I could ask him, but I'm kind of afraid of the answer. 

White Castle History

This is outside a White Castle in the Bronx.