Sometimes the phone rings, and I’m like YAY SOMEONE LIKES ME. But sometimes the phone rings, and my mom’s name pops up on the caller ID and I’m like OH SHIT WHAT HAPPENED OH GOD NOTHING IS SAFE WHAT’S GOING ON and I can barely answer because of the panic.
Today she called to say hi and ask me if I was safe. I almost died of a heart attack receiving that call.
That’s what losing someone does. You will never feel safe again. Trust me. You will think that every time your phone rings, something has happened to someone you love. I don’t keep the ringer on my phone because of this. I have like PTSD or something from phone calls. If my phone rings and either one of my parents’ names pops up, I consider throwing my phone in a lake. Every single time.
I wish I lived by a lake. I’m not kidding. I’d lake that phone so fast, I really would. I’d probably have gone through 50-100 phones by now.
Day 128 – Don’t call me, I’ll call you
Some other family members are here. They’re good buffers. They have babies. The babies are cute. I don’t know. I think it’s all too much. I smile when I don’t feel like smiling. I act all casual when I feel all tight and uncomfortable. I make jokes when I want to curl up alone. I help when I want to run away.
Not because I’m actually nice. Because I know I’m supposed to.
Day 125 – Buffers and babies
Life is exhausting. I know I’m the first person to notice that, so you’re welcome for mentioning it.
On a happier note, I stood up for myself at work and it went well. I didn’t trip or pee myself or run into a wall. I didn’t stumble (too badly) over my words. I didn’t break down hysterically crying. I DID mention how uncomfortable I was, but that’s pretty much as good/bad as it got. My boss is awesome.
Anyway, that went well and then I got chicken for dinner and fell asleep on the couch so in case you were wondering, I’m a depressed, divorced, 50 year old man who’s about to have his reawakening in a mediocre rom-com.
I hope life is a movie.
Day 122 – Rom com hopes
I felt good for a moment. Then I felt back about feeling good. Then I felt good again for another moment. Then I felt bad for that.
Day 119 – Cycling.
Keeping busy helps me avoid feeling sad. I filled today with everything I could think of: phone calls, errands, cleaning, dinner and comedy show with friends, etc. Pathetic, I know. Feel your feelings. But these feelings suck.
I found myself staring off into space when my friends were talking to me. I didn’t hear a word they said.
I heard HIS voice. I saw HIS face. I imagined what conversation we’d have now, if we could have one. And then the unfortunate reality of who I was actually talking to came back to me. I love my friends, but I’d give up everything and everyone to change things. I would. I’d live a lonely, sad life without friends or a good job or anything else if it would make it better.
Instead, there I was with my friends in their beautiful backyard, smoked cod on their plates, drinks in their hands. They were carefree. I was trapped.
Day 118 – Feel your feelings
Do so-called “normal” people have as many ups and downs as I do? What is normal, though? Like, pumpkin spice lattes and cute fall photos and long blonde hair and a terrier puppy and a small waist and a job in PR? Or, like, a big friend group and co-ed sports teams and tickets to concerts out in the desert and a boyfriend of 8 years that’s perfect and church on Sundays? Or, better yet, a comfortable job and financial security and good friends and a spouse and a house and a workout class every Wed/Fri and hosting themed parties and in bed by 10?
Instead, I have emotional roller coaster rides and confusion and judgment from my family and flaky friends and constant sadness and lots of cookies and evenings on the couch watching reruns and a job I tolerate that pays me next to nothing and a dream I haven’t accomplished yet and disappointing my parents and anxiety.
Am I doing it wrong?
Day 117 – Normal
Avoid, avoid, avoid.
Still haven’t made my deadline. Of course. Still haven’t written a word. Of course. Still haven’t faced any of my feelings. Of course. Is it obvious that I hate myself? Is it spilling off this page? If I could punish myself with words, I would. If I could punch myself into feeling better, I would.
There’s no way, it seems, to erase the pain. The well is deep. The feelings in there are fucking awful.
In the words of The Grinch, “I loathe myself.”
Day 116 – Dark Day.
I am avoiding talking about all the real things. If I talk about the thing that makes me paralyzingly sad, I will be too sad to function. Duh. But really. It’s true. If I talk about my favorite TV shows and ice cream and the dumb thing I did today, then I can keep moving and breathing and getting out of bed.
I write this to be cathartic, but I don’t often use it that way. I talk about my relationship. I bitch about work. I drool over a cookie I ate today. I write about politics and then delete it because it just makes me angry and instead talk about my dog.
How the actual fuck do people survive devastating things without annoying everyone around them or collapsing into an immovable ball of tears or both?
Day 115 – I…Sad.
Relationships are hard. We pee with the door open now. We’re there.
We still date each other, which is nice. But now it’s like: go to work, text about work while at work, come home and talk about work, sleep so we can go to work.
He’s not working right now, which is amazing, because that means he has more energy than I do to clean or cook or walk our dog or workout. I appreciate all these things. But it’s unsettling, too.
Are we just going to end up as roommates? Will we still like each other? Will we still love each other? Are we going to have chore wheels and arguments about splitting the bills and sit around in our sweats burping up our takeout? Is that what happens? I feel like that’s what happens.
Day 114 – Roommates or Romance?
It happened. Half his stuff. In the house. The move-in was actually pretty seamless. But then we got in a fight about… something. I can’t really remember. It seemed important.
He didn’t want me to put dishes away. I wanted to put dishes away. That was the fight.
For the record, I put the dishes away.
Day 112 – First day fight