Ants are coming to life again. The really tiny ones, spilling in from who knows where, to converge on a miniscule chip crumb. It reminds me of when P dropped a peanut under his chair. He liked to eat the ones with shells, I guess it was something to do after he went blind. Really it was slim pickins for entertainment considering we both lived on the computer and the text to speech software still barely made anything accessible. The internet is a clusterf*** of terribly designed websites.
Anyway last spring he was sitting there all cute and covered in bits of peanut shells. He had a special chair to help him up because his knees were weak from all the drugs. He lost a peanut through all the motors and mechanisms, and the next day the ants had made a superhighway underneath and were swarming around it. He was so sorry.
I wish I could tell him it didn't matter in the least, it was just a stupid peanut. I'm pretty sure I did at the time, but I want to tell him none of that crap mattered. He would struggle to find a frozen meal or a yogurt in the fridge on his own and make a mess and be so sorry, and all I cared about was that he felt bad and I wanted to protect him. He'd get stuck in some menus on the tv remote trying to listen to his favourite channels and was frustrated and worried he'd messed some settings up. I wanted to scream at all the things that were designed poorly. At the descriptive video service that required going through a pile of visual-only menus to turn it on, and was only really available for Corner Gas and sometimes stand-up comedy (absurd). I wanted to collect him in my arms and tell him I could make it all right and not to worry, I would just love him enough and the cancer would disappear. I want to tell him over and over again that only he mattered.
I wish he was here, the walls don't talk back.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Just A Taste
I really had a taste of the good life and now it's gone. I'm sick of this shit, I just want P back. I'm not even remotely ready to date but I already think everyone out there sucks. I kind of hated the masses anyway before this, but now I'm more bitter, more cynical. Those people I hate are still out there. They didn't get cancer. That alone proves to me there's no reason for anything, shit just happens. If things had a meaning then he would never even get a cold, and murderers and rapists would be filling up with cancer. Instead... this. BS life.
I don't even know how he was available when we met, I can't imagine a miracle like that can ever happen to me again. I don't even want it to, I wish I wasn't in this situation at all and I could just have him back.
Depressing.
I got some family photos back from 2007 today. He was in them looking so awesome and solid and cancer free and happy. We had such good times. I don't even feel like going over them now. My eyes are already sore and I'm too tired to cry again.
I don't even know how he was available when we met, I can't imagine a miracle like that can ever happen to me again. I don't even want it to, I wish I wasn't in this situation at all and I could just have him back.
Depressing.
I got some family photos back from 2007 today. He was in them looking so awesome and solid and cancer free and happy. We had such good times. I don't even feel like going over them now. My eyes are already sore and I'm too tired to cry again.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Low
I'm trying to fix my messed up body clock again so that I'm not waking up in the evening. Usually I do this by staying up all night and day, but I didn't make it. I fell asleep from 2pm-11pm which is madness. Nightmares on the couch and a sore neck, great. I slept again this morning from 8am-10am so maybe I'm good for a week or so of being on schedule with the humans.
Last night while I was up was a new low I think. I miss P so much and there is nothing I can do. I worry this will make me crazy. I worry it's ruining any small chance I had at even pretending to fit into society. I feel like those people on that Hoarders show, only there's no visible hoard. It's all inside me. Hormones makes it seriously unbearable, I hate being female. They didn't used to send me into serious depressions. I'd love to have a bunch of cramps instead. Physical f-ed upness beats mental f-upness.
Today's a new day though, I feel a bit better. I ate a human breakfast before noon which is an accomplishment. Maybe I'll go take pictures of spring bulbs.
Right now my cat is keeping me sane. I'm glad P wanted to get one and I'm glad she picked him out. I tell her she's supposed to take care of me for him. I love when she wakes me up, purring and pushing her face into mine. Sometimes she falls asleep downstairs and wakes up and I've gone to sleep upstairs. She has a few rapid cries and I let her know where I am and she comes running. It's the closest I get now to someone caring that I exist in the day to day. My grey angel. My little familiar.
Last night while I was up was a new low I think. I miss P so much and there is nothing I can do. I worry this will make me crazy. I worry it's ruining any small chance I had at even pretending to fit into society. I feel like those people on that Hoarders show, only there's no visible hoard. It's all inside me. Hormones makes it seriously unbearable, I hate being female. They didn't used to send me into serious depressions. I'd love to have a bunch of cramps instead. Physical f-ed upness beats mental f-upness.
Today's a new day though, I feel a bit better. I ate a human breakfast before noon which is an accomplishment. Maybe I'll go take pictures of spring bulbs.
Right now my cat is keeping me sane. I'm glad P wanted to get one and I'm glad she picked him out. I tell her she's supposed to take care of me for him. I love when she wakes me up, purring and pushing her face into mine. Sometimes she falls asleep downstairs and wakes up and I've gone to sleep upstairs. She has a few rapid cries and I let her know where I am and she comes running. It's the closest I get now to someone caring that I exist in the day to day. My grey angel. My little familiar.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Life is work but I'm not working
I still have no job. I'm actually looking now and hoping to find Something, but it's depressing. I'm intelligent enough and got good grades. I'm sure most people think of what I could have, should have been, but I never had a 'career'.
The stuff I learned in university is 98% faded away. After that I was lazy, scared, and lacking self confidence, so instead of working I started helping my grandparents out with things. My grandmother passed away most likely from a doctor's negligence and her husband was lost. He was in a worse state than I am now, if that's possible. He was a very quiet man, and his English wasn't great, and they were together forever. I took care of him for a while and it even turned into a full time thing where his son paid me a bit. I decided I was going to go back to school. It was a stupid idea. I hated the program and the only good that came out of it was meeting one friend. My grandfather had to go into a home, and it was my fault. He was so alone and scared, and I knew he was in there because of me.
This is around when I met P online. He eventually moved here to be with me, and I decided to finish what I started and get a diploma for something I found to be incredibly boring and tedious. I had a 1 year paid co-op (internship) type thing, and worked there another summer. That's the closest I got to a real job. It was boring and I hated the thought of actually working there with all the multibilliondollarpolitics but near the end I was a bit proud of some small Walmart promo of mayonnaise that I worked on. It sits in my desk covered in dust and probably bloating full of salmonella now.
After that I finished my last semester and got this slow tedious piecework job as a subcontractor for the company I worked at before. Basically the more I did, the more I made. It was slow going but I got into a groove for a month or two, around the time P was having symptoms and figuring out his diagnosis. I couldn't concentrate at all and had to resign when I found out it was cancer. My boss looked at me a certain way and mentioned that his last wife had had cancer. I knew what it meant but didn't want to say anything. I was scared shitless for P.
I haven't worked since and that was October 2008. I stopped playing the online game we met in and had played daily for like 8 years. That was my social network. We lived off his disability payment and my entire life revolved around cancer and trying to make him as happy as he could be. It sort of revolved around that anyway before the cancer, but now I was extra devoted.
Now I have nothing. I've hated working at every single random job I have had since I was a teenager. Everyone my age is rolling into the rewarding part of their professional (and personal) career. If they aren't, their spouse is and they're at home taking care of the baby they just popped out. At least this is what Facebook leads me to believe.
I feel so tired all the time, like I'm an 80 year old war vet. Like life passed by really fast, and I skipped a lot of the stages and there is no going back. At the same time, I feel like I'm 18 years old and I just graduated high school. Like a scared teen unsure what's supposed to happen next. At least back then it was normal to just defer adulthood by going to university. At least back then there was a billion possibilities and I knew my life had barely got started. Anything was possible.
Now I feel like a crippled withering teenager. I have nothing to look forward to. I don't want to die because it would make my parents sad. I don't want to tell them that because it would make them sad. I have two IRL friends, and I talk to a few people online. I sleep all day, maybe 12-15 hours. No matter what I do, my body resets into a horrible schedule where I'm up all night and sleep all day. I can .. I forget the word... rationalize? scrutinize? whatever. I can look at it all I want and know that I'm staying in bed because it's easier. Because I might have a dream with P in it. Because that's better than real life. Because night is easier to fill than day, I feel less obligated to be 'productive' by some imaginary rules of society. I can browse the net, clean the kitchen and watch tv until the sun rises, beat myself up for not going to bed earlier, try to sleep and fail unless I am exhausted, and then wake up at sunset and hate myself.
My therapist thinks a regular schedule would help me. So do I. I just can't enforce it though, it just feels impossible. Sometimes I HAVE to get up and it's hellish for a few days while I readjust. I used to be fine on 6 hours sleep, now I NEED about 10 but 12 is better. I always return to this stupid night schedule. What's wrong with me?
I always had this darkness in me, this failure. P would keep it in check though. I would go to bed because I wanted to be as normal as I could (in that respect) for him. I wanted to someday get a job and feel happy about myself and make him proud. I've never felt good about myself. The only time I had some confidence was in that online game when I met him. I was good at playing my character, and he was giving me attention. His compliments and the fact that he actually liked me were and are the only proof I can cling to that I'm not worthless. Now those are gone and I'm just alone. Sometimes my cat rubs my face, and I like that.
Who would possibly want to hire this mess?
I hate my life now.
The stuff I learned in university is 98% faded away. After that I was lazy, scared, and lacking self confidence, so instead of working I started helping my grandparents out with things. My grandmother passed away most likely from a doctor's negligence and her husband was lost. He was in a worse state than I am now, if that's possible. He was a very quiet man, and his English wasn't great, and they were together forever. I took care of him for a while and it even turned into a full time thing where his son paid me a bit. I decided I was going to go back to school. It was a stupid idea. I hated the program and the only good that came out of it was meeting one friend. My grandfather had to go into a home, and it was my fault. He was so alone and scared, and I knew he was in there because of me.
This is around when I met P online. He eventually moved here to be with me, and I decided to finish what I started and get a diploma for something I found to be incredibly boring and tedious. I had a 1 year paid co-op (internship) type thing, and worked there another summer. That's the closest I got to a real job. It was boring and I hated the thought of actually working there with all the multibilliondollarpolitics but near the end I was a bit proud of some small Walmart promo of mayonnaise that I worked on. It sits in my desk covered in dust and probably bloating full of salmonella now.
After that I finished my last semester and got this slow tedious piecework job as a subcontractor for the company I worked at before. Basically the more I did, the more I made. It was slow going but I got into a groove for a month or two, around the time P was having symptoms and figuring out his diagnosis. I couldn't concentrate at all and had to resign when I found out it was cancer. My boss looked at me a certain way and mentioned that his last wife had had cancer. I knew what it meant but didn't want to say anything. I was scared shitless for P.
I haven't worked since and that was October 2008. I stopped playing the online game we met in and had played daily for like 8 years. That was my social network. We lived off his disability payment and my entire life revolved around cancer and trying to make him as happy as he could be. It sort of revolved around that anyway before the cancer, but now I was extra devoted.
Now I have nothing. I've hated working at every single random job I have had since I was a teenager. Everyone my age is rolling into the rewarding part of their professional (and personal) career. If they aren't, their spouse is and they're at home taking care of the baby they just popped out. At least this is what Facebook leads me to believe.
I feel so tired all the time, like I'm an 80 year old war vet. Like life passed by really fast, and I skipped a lot of the stages and there is no going back. At the same time, I feel like I'm 18 years old and I just graduated high school. Like a scared teen unsure what's supposed to happen next. At least back then it was normal to just defer adulthood by going to university. At least back then there was a billion possibilities and I knew my life had barely got started. Anything was possible.
Now I feel like a crippled withering teenager. I have nothing to look forward to. I don't want to die because it would make my parents sad. I don't want to tell them that because it would make them sad. I have two IRL friends, and I talk to a few people online. I sleep all day, maybe 12-15 hours. No matter what I do, my body resets into a horrible schedule where I'm up all night and sleep all day. I can .. I forget the word... rationalize? scrutinize? whatever. I can look at it all I want and know that I'm staying in bed because it's easier. Because I might have a dream with P in it. Because that's better than real life. Because night is easier to fill than day, I feel less obligated to be 'productive' by some imaginary rules of society. I can browse the net, clean the kitchen and watch tv until the sun rises, beat myself up for not going to bed earlier, try to sleep and fail unless I am exhausted, and then wake up at sunset and hate myself.
My therapist thinks a regular schedule would help me. So do I. I just can't enforce it though, it just feels impossible. Sometimes I HAVE to get up and it's hellish for a few days while I readjust. I used to be fine on 6 hours sleep, now I NEED about 10 but 12 is better. I always return to this stupid night schedule. What's wrong with me?
I always had this darkness in me, this failure. P would keep it in check though. I would go to bed because I wanted to be as normal as I could (in that respect) for him. I wanted to someday get a job and feel happy about myself and make him proud. I've never felt good about myself. The only time I had some confidence was in that online game when I met him. I was good at playing my character, and he was giving me attention. His compliments and the fact that he actually liked me were and are the only proof I can cling to that I'm not worthless. Now those are gone and I'm just alone. Sometimes my cat rubs my face, and I like that.
Who would possibly want to hire this mess?
I hate my life now.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Recluse
In keeping with my theme of doing things all-or-nothing, I seem to go through these stages of just disappearing. I'm alone whether or not I'm around other people, so it just seems easier to be alone. At least I can talk to P and be a mess. Even chatting with people online, keeping up with Facebook or typing random dribbles in this blog is too much. How lazy.
Going to bed after sunrise, and waking up in the evening isn't helping. I've been looking for a job, but it scares the shit out of me. I feel like I've been away from the tedium of 'normal' people for so long, that I'll never be able to fit in. How can I possibly work when I'm hitting the snooze when the alarm goes off at 4pm after 13 hours sleep?
Just sitting there and watching tv is so much easier than all this. Whenever I think about how shitty my life is now without Steve, it depresses me. Tv makes it all a blank slate (for the most part) so I can just sit back like a zombie. Everything is just another form of filling time anyway. I wish that I knew if I'm going to see P again. That would be something to look forward to, or at least one less thing to worry about.
I miss him so much, it's excruciating.
Going to bed after sunrise, and waking up in the evening isn't helping. I've been looking for a job, but it scares the shit out of me. I feel like I've been away from the tedium of 'normal' people for so long, that I'll never be able to fit in. How can I possibly work when I'm hitting the snooze when the alarm goes off at 4pm after 13 hours sleep?
Just sitting there and watching tv is so much easier than all this. Whenever I think about how shitty my life is now without Steve, it depresses me. Tv makes it all a blank slate (for the most part) so I can just sit back like a zombie. Everything is just another form of filling time anyway. I wish that I knew if I'm going to see P again. That would be something to look forward to, or at least one less thing to worry about.
I miss him so much, it's excruciating.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Haunted Cell Phone
I went to the mall today because my jeans are all frayed and look like sausage casings on me, despite the fact that I've lost a few pounds. I wasn't in a bad mood today, I was even trying to build myself up in my head. A stranger actually talked to me which is rare, since I think I look like a walking corpse and scare people away now. It wasn't anything interesting, he just asked if I'd had the food there before and to enjoy my meal. I noticed he was buying 2 meals, so he wasn't heading off to a table to sit there alone like me in the food court.
I feel self conscious now when I'm alone in public, so of course while I was eating I whipped out my phone so I wouldn't have to make eye contact with groups of people. I started chatting with a fellow widow friend, when the phone messed up. I was trying to type something but it was entering letters from other keys. I kept pressing the key until a word formed, and that word was 'sorry'. I thought it was weird, I didn't press the right keys to actually make the word sorry up. It kind of freaked me out, since I've had this phone since '06 and the ONLY other time it's had a problem was right after P died. That time I was trying to put his friend's name in the phone and it wouldn't let me type her name, just "2s" came up instead of K. (It's not a smartphone or anything, just a normal numerical keypad, like 2 = ABC, 3 = DEF etc...)
Anyway it wouldn't let me add any more letters, so I hit space and tried making another word after the 'sorry' but it was just the proper jibberish that I'd actually typed. Like prssp or something. I really wish I could say it was a message from P, but if it was then I'm sad that he feels sorry. It's not his fault he got cancer. I'm not religious, and even if I was, my desperate pleas and prayers in the shower when he was terminal never worked, so God is either unable to intervene, not real, or an @$$hole. I don't really think there has to be a God for an afterlife anyway, but P and I never bought any of that. I really want to find out we're so wrong, but you can't help what you believe. My crappy scientific brain is coming up with excuses already. Maybe it was the perspiration from my hand messing with the circuitry. Seriously? My last phone went through the wash (yeah.) and once it dried out everything worked but 1 key. My logical excuses seem almost as far fetched as my haunted-phone thoughts. Either way, I left my cold rice and cried in the public toilet after that.
I feel self conscious now when I'm alone in public, so of course while I was eating I whipped out my phone so I wouldn't have to make eye contact with groups of people. I started chatting with a fellow widow friend, when the phone messed up. I was trying to type something but it was entering letters from other keys. I kept pressing the key until a word formed, and that word was 'sorry'. I thought it was weird, I didn't press the right keys to actually make the word sorry up. It kind of freaked me out, since I've had this phone since '06 and the ONLY other time it's had a problem was right after P died. That time I was trying to put his friend's name in the phone and it wouldn't let me type her name, just "2s" came up instead of K. (It's not a smartphone or anything, just a normal numerical keypad, like 2 = ABC, 3 = DEF etc...)
Anyway it wouldn't let me add any more letters, so I hit space and tried making another word after the 'sorry' but it was just the proper jibberish that I'd actually typed. Like prssp or something. I really wish I could say it was a message from P, but if it was then I'm sad that he feels sorry. It's not his fault he got cancer. I'm not religious, and even if I was, my desperate pleas and prayers in the shower when he was terminal never worked, so God is either unable to intervene, not real, or an @$$hole. I don't really think there has to be a God for an afterlife anyway, but P and I never bought any of that. I really want to find out we're so wrong, but you can't help what you believe. My crappy scientific brain is coming up with excuses already. Maybe it was the perspiration from my hand messing with the circuitry. Seriously? My last phone went through the wash (yeah.) and once it dried out everything worked but 1 key. My logical excuses seem almost as far fetched as my haunted-phone thoughts. Either way, I left my cold rice and cried in the public toilet after that.
Things I hate
A lot of things still really bug me. I don't mean like idiots and self centred a-holes. I mean new things since he got sick, and especially after he died. Things like:
- weddings
- babies
- happy couples
- unhappy couples
- couples doing anything together, like buying a house or whatever we were planning on doing
- sex scenes
- anyone or anything that annoyingly assumes everyone's life is exactly the same and will follow the same path (What do you mean you won't be a married house-mommy living in suburbia by the time you turn 30?)
- cancer and related topics like chemo/radiation, hair loss, or even survivors that are 'strong' or 'fighters' (As if P didn't fight hard enough or something.)
- even worse is specifically melanoma or any brain problems
- blindness
- seizures
- comas
- crusty orange tanned idiots
- bimbos/mimbos skimming the surface of life with no real cares or worries
- gluten free stuff or food allergies
- meds
- walkers
- pretty much anything health-related or hospital settings
- people that lived to be old (or just past their 30s)
- stuff from the 80s and 90s that reminds me of him, because I constantly imagine what he was like as a younger person before we met
- a billion things that he liked, his hobbies, our inside jokes, and stuff that used to make me happy and want to share with him (cucumbers, buttons, ice cream, oh my...)
All this is seriously unavoidable in real life. Even in fake life it always pops up. Usually I'll be watching a tv show and sense it coming. I talk to P out loud and say something like, "don't be cancer" or, "don't you dare propose to her/him". Of course it always is one of those two things. Then I have to whine to the air. "Seriously?! Are you f-ing serious?"
Some of it I can deal with now, but f*%& all that health stuff and happy oblivious couples. I miss being part of a happy couple. Cancer took both our lives, but I'm still suffering. Without a second thought, I would do absolutely Anything to have him back.
- weddings
- babies
- happy couples
- unhappy couples
- couples doing anything together, like buying a house or whatever we were planning on doing
- sex scenes
- anyone or anything that annoyingly assumes everyone's life is exactly the same and will follow the same path (What do you mean you won't be a married house-mommy living in suburbia by the time you turn 30?)
- cancer and related topics like chemo/radiation, hair loss, or even survivors that are 'strong' or 'fighters' (As if P didn't fight hard enough or something.)
- even worse is specifically melanoma or any brain problems
- blindness
- seizures
- comas
- crusty orange tanned idiots
- bimbos/mimbos skimming the surface of life with no real cares or worries
- gluten free stuff or food allergies
- meds
- walkers
- pretty much anything health-related or hospital settings
- people that lived to be old (or just past their 30s)
- stuff from the 80s and 90s that reminds me of him, because I constantly imagine what he was like as a younger person before we met
- a billion things that he liked, his hobbies, our inside jokes, and stuff that used to make me happy and want to share with him (cucumbers, buttons, ice cream, oh my...)
All this is seriously unavoidable in real life. Even in fake life it always pops up. Usually I'll be watching a tv show and sense it coming. I talk to P out loud and say something like, "don't be cancer" or, "don't you dare propose to her/him". Of course it always is one of those two things. Then I have to whine to the air. "Seriously?! Are you f-ing serious?"
Some of it I can deal with now, but f*%& all that health stuff and happy oblivious couples. I miss being part of a happy couple. Cancer took both our lives, but I'm still suffering. Without a second thought, I would do absolutely Anything to have him back.
Wasting time
Sometimes I go overboard on the online time wasting and escape for a few days. A vacation... to my couch. Then I just sit and watch tv like a blob. For hours.
I saw the therapist on Tuesday, which is something I never look forward to because it forces me to think about all this crud. Plus, there's no escape from having to pass through the doctor's waiting room full of people with mystery infections. My hands shrivel like a prune from all the sanitizer, and my face is always ruined and stinging afterwards from trying to suppress tears and failing.
She asked what I do all day and sometimes I have no idea. I wonder if I should write it down, but I know hours can pass in an instant and they are full of nothingness. Maybe I make a tea, eat a banana, "check email" for 3 hours, scoop some litter, wander around Walmart, suddenly it's dark and I get to just sit and eat and watch tv... exciting stuff.
One thing I am doing lately is filling my head with knowledge. I get super into something, then I'm totally bored with it a few days or weeks later. I'm really trying hard to just go to the library when I feel like that, otherwise I'll research something and decide I NEED to buy a bunch of stuff, but later on realize I didn't want it as much as I thought. (Usually this occurs around the time when my credit card bill appears in the mailbox.) I still get the retail therapy high but instead I bring home some musty books to flip through and forget about for a few weeks. I hate that I'm going to the library again instead of doing stuff with P. I hate that this is progress for me, since the first few months I really didn't give a crap about anything and all my old interests crumbled.
I saw the therapist on Tuesday, which is something I never look forward to because it forces me to think about all this crud. Plus, there's no escape from having to pass through the doctor's waiting room full of people with mystery infections. My hands shrivel like a prune from all the sanitizer, and my face is always ruined and stinging afterwards from trying to suppress tears and failing.
She asked what I do all day and sometimes I have no idea. I wonder if I should write it down, but I know hours can pass in an instant and they are full of nothingness. Maybe I make a tea, eat a banana, "check email" for 3 hours, scoop some litter, wander around Walmart, suddenly it's dark and I get to just sit and eat and watch tv... exciting stuff.
One thing I am doing lately is filling my head with knowledge. I get super into something, then I'm totally bored with it a few days or weeks later. I'm really trying hard to just go to the library when I feel like that, otherwise I'll research something and decide I NEED to buy a bunch of stuff, but later on realize I didn't want it as much as I thought. (Usually this occurs around the time when my credit card bill appears in the mailbox.) I still get the retail therapy high but instead I bring home some musty books to flip through and forget about for a few weeks. I hate that I'm going to the library again instead of doing stuff with P. I hate that this is progress for me, since the first few months I really didn't give a crap about anything and all my old interests crumbled.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Surreal Sundays
So far my day consists of cleaning the walls while the menu music for the Tudors loops in the background a billion times. Who the hell cleans the walls? Freaky Martha types, that's who. The widowed don't generally bother when it's only them rattling around the skeletons of their former happy home. Most of them have kids and purposes anyway.
These surreal moments are constantly occurring now. Today it's this old England castles-n-scandals music playing while I dramatically wipe cobwebs and skin cells off the door frame. Yesterday it was some typical happy 50s music at the supermarket, while I picked out loser bananas that had broken off so they would ripen (rot) at staggered times. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a Weeds episode.
I should definitely be more disturbed that I constantly compare real life to tv shows and my past life in an online game. I was pretty awesome back when I was a male wood elf ranger...
These surreal moments are constantly occurring now. Today it's this old England castles-n-scandals music playing while I dramatically wipe cobwebs and skin cells off the door frame. Yesterday it was some typical happy 50s music at the supermarket, while I picked out loser bananas that had broken off so they would ripen (rot) at staggered times. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a Weeds episode.
I should definitely be more disturbed that I constantly compare real life to tv shows and my past life in an online game. I was pretty awesome back when I was a male wood elf ranger...
Chickening out
Last night I had a dream. I was in this group of people from my past, and everyone was assigned a character and we had to go down this weird cave practicing tasks. I was assigned to be a fairy. I even got a wand with a little star made of aluminum foil. I was SO pissed off about this. Everyone else had swords and got to be rogues and archers and I was supposed to practice my prancing and eventually twirling this stupid wand. Even in my dreams I'm forced to be an outcast doing something I hate. I was trying to rebel and learn how to slash and fly. Because of this I slept in until 5pm. It seemed better than waking up and dealing with the day and the sun.
I signed up for some Meetup groups a few weeks ago. Great. Now I'm one of those people that has to seek out adult playdates to fill their life, instead of enjoying doing anything or nothing with P. There's no way I will ever attend an event for singles, so I signed upfor some hiking groups. I found myself getting mad when they were all filled up by braggers showing off their beautiful husband and kids. Seriously! I want to tell them to enjoy their family alone and leave these planned activities for the lone wolves. I'm so bitter now. It sucks.
I finally got into one and almost went to my first hike but chickened out at 3am last night when my brown bottles reminded me there was no way I was waking up in 5 hours to put on my human mask and play nice.
I signed up for some Meetup groups a few weeks ago. Great. Now I'm one of those people that has to seek out adult playdates to fill their life, instead of enjoying doing anything or nothing with P. There's no way I will ever attend an event for singles, so I signed upfor some hiking groups. I found myself getting mad when they were all filled up by braggers showing off their beautiful husband and kids. Seriously! I want to tell them to enjoy their family alone and leave these planned activities for the lone wolves. I'm so bitter now. It sucks.
I finally got into one and almost went to my first hike but chickened out at 3am last night when my brown bottles reminded me there was no way I was waking up in 5 hours to put on my human mask and play nice.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Old Hobbies/New Hobbies
Old hobbies:
- nightly raids in Everquest
- hiking
- graphic design
- being psyched about my level of weird
- sniffing P's head
- getting more outrageous reactions from P to my baked bean dirt-cloud eating its way through the house like the smoke monster from Lost
- planning for vacations with P
- looking for a real job so we can buy a house
New Hobbies:
- looking for a loser job so I can continue flushing money down the rent-toilet
- hoarding canned soups
- 8(+) hour sessions of popthatzit.com/isitnormal.com/peopleofwalmart.com where I only get up once every hour to reheat my tea and pick out the cat hairs
- hanging out at the library past the age where it's required for high school assignments
- putting out the garbage/recycling once a week
- turning appliances on and going outside to watch the effects on the power meter
- falling asleep talking to P
- crying at Northern Exposure/the sad mop replaced by Swiffer/fictional tv characters with better lives than mine
- "becoming George"
- nightly raids in Everquest
- hiking
- graphic design
- being psyched about my level of weird
- sniffing P's head
- getting more outrageous reactions from P to my baked bean dirt-cloud eating its way through the house like the smoke monster from Lost
- planning for vacations with P
- looking for a real job so we can buy a house
New Hobbies:
- looking for a loser job so I can continue flushing money down the rent-toilet
- hoarding canned soups
- 8(+) hour sessions of popthatzit.com/isitnormal.com/peopleofwalmart.com where I only get up once every hour to reheat my tea and pick out the cat hairs
- hanging out at the library past the age where it's required for high school assignments
- putting out the garbage/recycling once a week
- turning appliances on and going outside to watch the effects on the power meter
- falling asleep talking to P
- crying at Northern Exposure/the sad mop replaced by Swiffer/fictional tv characters with better lives than mine
- "becoming George"
Thursday, March 4, 2010
The Husk
friend: people keep saying "hows she holding up" i wonder what the right answer is to that?
me: i wonder too
me: i just say i dunno ok, what can you say
me: its like when people on cash at the grocery store ask how i am i just say 'fine' then think in my head something f***ed up like 'oh i'm fine, fiance is dead and i ate doritos for breakfast at 5pm'.
friend: i just say "shes amazing" i dont know what thats supost to mean but its that or i tell them your soon to be the husk
...It's been 8 months since P died, and yes, I am the husk.
Part of me wishes I had this neatly chronicled blog, describing all the terrible details and daily thoughts since he was diagnosed with cancer, in the hopes that I can go back later on and create a book or something useful.
But I don't. I'm in no shape to go through it all now. It will come out when it comes out, and if it doesn't... well is anyone really reading this anyway?
The quick(ish) version:
We met in an online game. He moved across the world to be with me in 2005. It was sheer bliss. We thought about visiting Australia/NZ for Christmas or being responsible and buying a house. That all got squashed.
Summer '08 he was a bit tired. It was celiac disease. It was also cancer—stage IV metastatic melanoma. They cut it out. He was recovering nicely. In November we had a celebration when he was declared cancer free, and the next day he was vomiting. It was in his spinal fluid and thus beginning it's attack on the lining of his brain. Whole brain radiation and chemo in December. He did surprisingly well, but still went blind as it coated his optic nerve.
(I think about those times a lot... his text messages from the hospital filling with typos, a blade of the ceiling fan that he can't see, the colours on the Rubick's cube are all becoming the same.)
He came home. Time passed in spurts of the terrifying, the beautiful, the frantic, filled with long stretches of the depressing. Of listening to audio books. Of optimism out loud, but the stuff of nightmares lurking in both our heads. Of being sleepy because it was always dark.
We bought a cat. Actually she picked him out, so we had to have her.
Considering the state his body was in, he managed a pretty awesome proposal in April. We planned our wedding, hoping to at least be given the chance to have this one last happy thing. Denied. By the end of May his cancer figured out how to beat the chemo and started spreading again. Pressure in his poor head.
His last 6 weeks were absolute hell.
They started off with fixing his headaches, thinking he would be home in a week or so. With mildly amusing hallucinations and surreal nights addressing wedding invitations on the empty bed next to him. They ended in a vegetative state, stopping his fluids, watching his final seizure as his face turned yellow, gasping for breath, confused and scared, no pulse, a few more slow gasps. And silence as I finally accepted that I'd failed.
2009 was the worst year of my life. Nobody should have to say the year they were proposed to, and supposed to get married in was the worst year of their lives.
2010 isn't exactly a picnic. Last year I had hope. As unfounded as it was, I had it. He was there. Now he's not and never will be. That makes this year worse in a way.
And here I am again. Time passing with no purpose.
Here I am, the husk.
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