Halloween ramblings, really...
It's been a little over a month. Amazing how the world goes on when yours stopped for two weeks. In the midst of finding documents, talking to old firefighters, and selling houses (!), I've been amiss at my own self-care. I'm trying to reduce my hours at the private practice to every other weekend; I'm looking forward to having Saturdays free for nothing to do versus scheduling off to do something. Friends keep checking in and asking how it's going; I find myself constantly experiencing meta-grief. With my training, it's actually a really cool process, which can sound bizarre. I'm practicing my grief certification on myself over my father's death! Whoo, education!
I feel at times that I struggle health-wise, and am trying to pick up traction. I find myself so frustrated by all of this that I do think the Saturdays off will give me more space to process.
I remember how excited you were when fall came last year; you hadn't had a fall in 25 years! The leaves are falling now, Da-ee. Momma is angry it's getting cold out.
We've talked about Thanksgiving, if I'll host again this year or if we'll hook onto someone else's celebration. I think the thing that amazes me is how truly alone I feel. I used to be surrounded by way too many people and now? It's us and Momma. It's only three. Amid cats, but it's not polite for them to sit at the table. Regardless of what Socks will tell you.
I'm glad you came to Thanksgiving last year. You were so PROUD that I learned how to cook a turkey. True, you and Momma showed up 2.5 hours late, but hey, some things don't change.
I am curious if I'm experiencing my grief or in denial. I feel as though I'm processing and honoring it. I have bad days and tuck myself away, letting myself cry when I need to instead of stuffing it down. I have postulated that not only was I prepared for his death and what to do about it since I was 13, but also this state of pre-grief helped me accept the finality of his death.
There are times where I think Momma and I just lost you, though. Like you'll call when we're out riding, frantically trying to locate Momma. Or we go along on our day and I have the moment where I think to order something to take home to you. The other day when Momma and I walked into the condo, I said, "We're home!" and Momma mimicked it back. I don't know if she knew I did it out of habit for you, or if she was happy to be home, too.
We can't see around the chair when we walk into the condo; sometimes I think we both pretend you're still watching TV.
Fidget got us pumpkins; he's promised to carve one for Momma. I think she'll enjoy it, you know how much she always enjoyed Halloween. We decorated the outside of the condo with all the spookiness we could find. The crows are quite terrifying from the elevator.
I'm off to parse apart my own marriage, trying to help my spouse, trying to continue to fortify our 8-year relationship. I need to get it together to go...
... here's seeing if I was together enough when I went.
I feel at times that I struggle health-wise, and am trying to pick up traction. I find myself so frustrated by all of this that I do think the Saturdays off will give me more space to process.
I remember how excited you were when fall came last year; you hadn't had a fall in 25 years! The leaves are falling now, Da-ee. Momma is angry it's getting cold out.
We've talked about Thanksgiving, if I'll host again this year or if we'll hook onto someone else's celebration. I think the thing that amazes me is how truly alone I feel. I used to be surrounded by way too many people and now? It's us and Momma. It's only three. Amid cats, but it's not polite for them to sit at the table. Regardless of what Socks will tell you.
I'm glad you came to Thanksgiving last year. You were so PROUD that I learned how to cook a turkey. True, you and Momma showed up 2.5 hours late, but hey, some things don't change.
I am curious if I'm experiencing my grief or in denial. I feel as though I'm processing and honoring it. I have bad days and tuck myself away, letting myself cry when I need to instead of stuffing it down. I have postulated that not only was I prepared for his death and what to do about it since I was 13, but also this state of pre-grief helped me accept the finality of his death.
There are times where I think Momma and I just lost you, though. Like you'll call when we're out riding, frantically trying to locate Momma. Or we go along on our day and I have the moment where I think to order something to take home to you. The other day when Momma and I walked into the condo, I said, "We're home!" and Momma mimicked it back. I don't know if she knew I did it out of habit for you, or if she was happy to be home, too.
We can't see around the chair when we walk into the condo; sometimes I think we both pretend you're still watching TV.
Fidget got us pumpkins; he's promised to carve one for Momma. I think she'll enjoy it, you know how much she always enjoyed Halloween. We decorated the outside of the condo with all the spookiness we could find. The crows are quite terrifying from the elevator.
I'm off to parse apart my own marriage, trying to help my spouse, trying to continue to fortify our 8-year relationship. I need to get it together to go...
... here's seeing if I was together enough when I went.