It Came and Went - © Claudia Schlottman

06/11/10

The first anniversary of Clint’s death came and went, leaving in its wake waves of sadness and loneliness and yes, despair.  I knew I would not wake up on Wednesday morning and be well, but I didn’t expect be so painfully sorrowful.

My wonderful friend, Loren, lost his father on Wednesday, and his loss reignited my grief - once more.  Will it go on forever?  

I am dressed to go out to run errands, but I'm having trouble getting to the door.  My toenails really do need a top coat.  I need to read my favorite blogs and take time to comment.  I need to clean my house, which was left in a moderate state of shambles by the get-together on Tuesday night and to which I have not done one fucking thing.  It was yesterday morning before I loaded the dishwasher and late in the afternoon when I unloaded it.  I found some Burger King sacks and some greasy spots on the cocktail table in the TV room, but I didn’t do anything but throw away the bags. 

Last night I went with my usual group to Bonefish for happy hour drinks and food.  It sat and wished I could be anywhere else in the world, anywhere I’m not known and friends won’t look at me with their furrowed brows and whisper, “Are you all right?”

Hell, no, I am not all right.  I have been a widow for one year and that’s not long enough to be all right.  I have done some healing, and I love my friends for their support and caring, but no, I am not all right.  I want to escape but don’t know where to go.

This morning, I cried while practicing yoga.  I think crying during yoga might be against the rules, so I pushed aside my tears and dammed up the rest for later.  And there will be a later, maybe tonight or tomorrow or today in the middle of Wal Mart.  They are there, lurking, watching for an opening.

I want to be NIN’s Sabina for a day or two.  No, I don’t want to have her sexual exploits, but I want to pretend I’m someone I’m not, flirt with strange men, eat exotic food and surround myself with people who have no idea who I am or what I want or what I need. Maybe on some level I do want to have gratuitous anonymous sex.  But would I come away from it any different?  Would it heal me?  Would it hurt me?

So many questions, so much sadness and uncertainty have me feeling lost and confused and impotent to live my life as I know I can.  Maybe tomorrow will be better.  God, I hope so.