September 21, 2018

Spoke too soon. I didn’t even give him one day before expecting him to move on. Grief doesn’t work like that. I SHOULD KNOW!!!

I always think I’m so self-aware, too…

I can’t tell what makes sense anymore. Sadness has warped my sense of what “should” be and what reality dictates. I can’t expect kindness and understanding and sympathy when I refuse to give it out. But I can’t figure it out. I have no idea if what I’m saying makes sense or if I’m being cold and heartless.

Cold and heartless this time, I think.

Day 103 – I should know…

September 9, 2018

It takes a lot for me to admit when I’m wrong. Who wants to be wrong? Especially when I’m right all the time. Kidding… Kind of.

I did admit it, though. And I got the “well, do better next time” response. Which, fair, but frustrating. If you’re already eating crow, it’s not exactly fun to have someone twist the knife. But also, maybe I do the same thing to other people. Unsure.

One of the hardest parts about being sad all the time is not taking it out on other people. I try to keep it bottled up all the time, but if it gets out, it always lands on the people that I love the most. I SHOULD take it out on that asshole driver Mark (don’t know his name, but it could be Mark) who cut me off or that woman who couldn’t figure out how to use the credit card machine but instead I take it out on my mom. Sometimes others, but usually my mom, who doesn’t deserve it. She deserves flowers and hugs but instead she got me. Unfortunate for her.

I don’t live with her or anything, but I know how to work a phone.

Day 91 – Right is wrong

August 31, 2018

Some days it’s hard to know if I’m doing the right thing. Actually, that’s every day all the time.

I have a job now. I took a road trip (that’s why this is late). I pay rent and bills and worry about being able to buy a house. WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN TO ME? I want to do the right thing by my friends and family and mostly myself. But then I second guess my choices. Even my relationship. I love him. I know that. We have plans for the future.

But then I wonder… Should I just be alone?

Day 82 – Do the Right Thing

June 15, 2018

I bought over $500 worth of clothes today. Did I need them? No. Hardly anyone ever needs new clothes. But I bought them anyway because what feels better than a little retail therapy – especially when you can do it from THE COUCH??? Seriously, I can’t think of anything better other than a perfect chocolate chip cookie. I know I should be supporting local. I know I should only be buying one thing that I absolutely can use all the time that’s on sale and then donate something from my closet in exchange. Should.

I know I am doing it all wrong, constantly, every time. But when I open up my computer and within a few clicks find a dress I like, a coupon code, and put in the credit card number I’ve memorized from doing this so many times, and I’m in my pajamas with a TV show on in the background, well, Heaven may not be so far away after all.

I realize that 99.9% of what I’ve said that I’m doing is TV/food/shopping related, which is interesting because I define myself as much more well-rounded and far less shallow than that implies, but it seems like I am wrong. It’s possible, highly likely even, that I spend most of my time on the three things I listed above. Hmmm.

Well, I think food makes sense. We have to eat to live. Granted, I live to eat, but potato-potahto, right? Some people consider themselves foodies, but I’m far too picky and lazy to be a foodie. So, I just really love it? My pants tell me that’s true. The food wrappers on my coffee table tell me that’s true. (Sometimes, I realize that I must have eaten a lot due to the amount of food wrappers I’m surrounded by a la an entire frat house of boys, but then instead of adjusting my behavior, I just clean them up and throw them out so it doesn’t look like I ate anything at all. I feel like that solves the problem.)

Television is a real issue. I love it. It helps me get through the day. I mean, we did coin the term “Netflix and Chill,” so I’m obviously not alone. But maybe those people Netflix and Chill after work, instead of at noon with a Trader Joe’s cauliflower pizza cooking in the oven so they can pretend to be healthy while they snack on Milanos as they wait. I don’t know anyone who would do that, it’s clearly just a fictional story, but…

Shopping… I don’t do it often. I don’t even really like it all that much. If I’m in a store with someone, I get instantly bored and want to leave. I’d rather be anywhere else in the world. But if I’m at home…in my pajamas…and there’s a sale…and I hate all my clothes in my closet because I do and they suck and I’ve had most of them forever and I wish I could burn them all and start over (not to be too dramatic about it but for real I hate them all)…and there’s a really pretty model who looks nothing like me rocking a dress that probably won’t fit over my chest, well, then, I’m already on the “checkout” screen. The fun thing about credit cards is you get to pay them off later, when the bill comes and you nearly fall over dead at the amount you managed to spend on brunch and t-shirts and Postmates delivery and that cute necklace you just had to have.

Day Five of grieving is costing me a lot of money. I don’t think I’m doing this right.

June 12, 2018

Food is more than comfort. I ate toast with tomato on it for breakfast. Impressively healthy, right? I washed it down with apple juice (eh, still fine). And then I followed that up with two donuts, a banana, and a cookie. And that was just breakfast. Then I got a delicious strawberry lemonade from a small coffee shop where they asked me, “Where have you been? We haven’t seen you in a while.” Even though I’ve been there a total of five times in my life. Nice to be remembered, I guess…

For lunch, I made chicken, roasted broccolini, and rice pilaf. Killing it. But I followed that up with two blueberry cookies (more like scones). Still feeling peckish, a few hours elapsed before I found myself eating a turkey burger, fries, and chocolate cake with ice cream. (It’s amazing how writing all of this down and looking back on it not only makes me feel terrible, but explains the reason why not even my elastic-waistband sweatpants fit.)

I needed the comfort today, and the friendship. I flew back to Los Angeles today just in time to make it to my regular trivia night with friends at a dive bar down the street. We laughed so hard I forgot for a brief moment why my life is different from theirs. And then it all came rushing back.

Today was one of those days where I didn’t cry (yet) but I felt down. And I fought it hard. I went out to a victory parade for the NBA Champion Oakland Warriors. I (clearly) ate my weight (and my neighbor’s weight) in delicious food. I laughed. I told stories. I spent time with friends. But underneath it all is that sadness that still manages to taint everything. It crops up constantly to remind me that I’m not like everyone else. I’m Hester Prynne but with a “G” for grieving instead of an “A” for adultery, though I might actually prefer the public shame of one over the other. Having a “G” etched so clearly on my face, in my eyes, makes me feel like an “other.” Like I’m different. Like my friends love me, but they’re scared to get too close for fear of catching my grief. For fear of contracting it like some awful disease and looking more like me.

I told at least five good jokes tonight. Yes, I counted. Yes, I’m a loser. It’s the little things that get me through the day most of the time.

I’m dreading tomorrow, when I have plans to see a friend I haven’t seen since December and she inevitably asks me “How’s everything going?” with that look on her face. The one that says, You know what I mean and I’m glad I’m not you and I don’t really want to know all at the same time. And which she also inevitably follows up with, “What’s new?” Nothing. Nothing is ever new. Grief is like that. It’s the same every day. Painful. All-consuming. Hard to talk about. Harder to live. Harder still to pretend like it’s fine so as not to bother other people with the truth.

I still haven’t faced it in the way I should. “Should.” I hate that word. Like there’s a manual someone wrote of how to behave and what exactly to be doing all the time and we all just walk around expecting ourselves and others to do those things when, really, we should be doing what’s best for each of us, individually, even if sometimes we have to be selfish.

I feel like I’m being selfish all the time. I can’t get a gauge for it. I agreed to go to Vegas this weekend (to distract myself) for a friend’s birthday (to distract myself), but as it draws nearer, I realize that I want to stay home, and maybe cry, and definitely eat ice cream, and for sure turn on Netflix, and without a doubt chill with myself. But then a friend might call and I might go out because it sounds better than sitting in my house, absorbed with my grief. But then again, I “should” go to Vegas. I already committed. It’s not like it’s torture. It’ll be fun. Then again, I should give myself the time to deal with what’s happening in my life. To remember how he always had my back. To listen to the voicemails of his I saved but haven’t been able to open. To be present in my sadness so maybe, just maybe, I can someday fit into my pants again and step outside my house without convincing myself over the course of several hours and hang out with my friends without silently acknowledging to myself that they’re actually just great distractions.

Day two and I’m already not living in my grief. Who would want to? It’s not fun like a water slide or a day at Disneyland. It’s like a terrifying drop on a roller coaster where you can’t see the bottom and you don’t know when it’s going to end and you feel like you’re going to die if it doesn’t stop soon. Dramatic, yes. But true.

But in case you were worried – even for a second – that I would get through the day without embarrassing myself, I coughed so hard I farted at trivia. And then I coughed louder to cover it up. And then I farted louder. So. Just be thankful you’re not me.