How wrung out? After I wrapped up work today, I napped for 90 minutes before heating up dinner. And I could go to bed right this minute if not for the fact that I want to digest my food first. I'm TIRED.
I had several hours at work this week when I felt somewhat like myself: sharp, together, able to analyze a situation and recognize a problem that even two weeks ago probably would have gone over my head. You'd think this would be encouraging, but given my new status as a perpetual Eeyore, I just see it as evidence that I'm becoming someone whose entire life is my work because I have nothing else. That's not someone I want to be, but the universe doesn't seem too concerned with what I want these days.
After last weekend's foolhardy overindulging in activities, I'm not making that mistake again: I'm taking tomorrow entirely off - I'll sleep in (assuming my body lets me), play with my Oculus, read, nap, relax, and then I have a zoom dinner date with my friend Suzi: we're gonna get all dolled up, drink high-end adult beverages (Widow Jane Bourbon for me - c'mon, with that name, I HAD to try it - and Scotch for her). It's the first meeting of what I've decided to name the Old Drunk Widows Club. Who knows? if we get sufficiently plastered, maybe we'll go on Facebook Live and entertain you all with our drunken shenanigans. Sunday, I'll do some housework, but I'm definitely not going to try and boil the ocean here: what gets done will get done, and everything else will wait.
An aside: yes, I had Bourbon and a cigar with my friend Mike earlier this week; and I had two beers while talking to my sister on Wednesday, and one during our very last grief group last night; and I'll be drinking tomorrow. Fear not - I'm not going to make a steady habit of drinking this much or this often, but it's nice to get a little enjoyment out of adult beverages again. All things in moderation, right? Including moderation.
Sunday evening, I'm participating in an online play reading - I'm just reading the stage directions, but it's a lovely group of lovely people, and it'll be fun. I do have an upcoming Facebook Live script reading that I'm genuinely excited about next month, but since nothing's been announced publicly, I'm keeping my lips zipped on that for now.
I also booked a couple of weeks at a cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains this Autumn. The diminutive direwolf Kellogg will accompany me - as the cabins allow dogs - but Lady Marmalade and Houdini-Beanie will remain at home in the care of a house sitter - as the cabins do not allow cats. (FYI, in case you weren't paying attention: there will be a house sitter, and I don't have anything worth stealing in my house anyway, so don't get any ideas.) I'm not going to take two weeks off from work; for one thing, I'm going to have the same limitations there that I have here in terms of trying to stay away from people, so it's not like I can indulge of lots of recreation. But I'll probably take off Fridays and Mondays at least one of those weeks. And I'm looking forward to that trip, too. It'll be cool enough to go hiking, and the rules of these cabins require outdoor lights to be turned off at 10:00 PM, which means it should be terrific for star-gazing. And the cabin I'm renting has a wood-burning fireplace
I know y'all must have mental whiplash from trying to understand how it is that I can have fun things I'm looking forward to and yet still say that my life isn't really worth living, and I get it: it's a difficult concept to wrap your head around. Hell, it's a difficult concept for me to wrap MY head around, and I'm LIVING it. But here's the thing: yes, I can laugh at things that are funny without feeling guilty; yes, I can now enjoy a good meal; yes, there are now activities that I can enjoy, and people I enjoy spending time with (virtually, of course). But the emptiness of my life without Doug is always there; the longing to be held, and kissed, and that need to be fully seen and understood - those never go away. And whatever fun or enjoyment I can have is dimmer and smaller because of that. I'm doing things, and I'm enjoying them, sure: but my life as a whole is just about finding ways to pass the time until I can be with Doug again, because that's all I really want. Fun doesn't necessarily equal happiness, and I'm way too old to be satisfied with a life that's fun but not happy.
Circling back to the grief group wrapping up, we're going to keep getting together every two weeks on Wednesdays, because the group managed to bond nicely over the eight weeks we had together (yep, trauma bonding really is a thing). Someday, maybe we'll even be able to meet in person. Someday. Maybe. Not gonna bother looking at the Magic 8 Ball on that one, because it's all about the 'rona and when it'll be safe to be among people again.
And just writing that makes me realize that I'm becoming far too accustomed to being completely alone all the time. If faced with real-life socializing again, my reaction is likely to be this:
My verdict on this week: on balance, it could've been worse. I know it's good that I'm able to do things I couldn't do a few weeks ago. I just wish I could bring myself to feel as though it all means anything.
But if all I can do is pass the time, I'm going to try and pass it with whatever small bits of enjoyment I can cobble together. It's not enough, but it's all I can do.
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