- I had a genuine shitty mood the other day. Not grief-induced; it was PMS-induced. And I could tell the difference. It’s been so long since I could remember what I felt like before all this happened; and as crappy as I felt, I was so pleased to feel “normal” crappy instead of extra-crappy.
- I switched from black ink in my journal to purple ink when my pen ran out last night. It wasn’t black for mourning—I’ve used black forever. The progress was in being ready for even a small change with anything connected to him. We imbue so many things with meaning that what was originally meaningless becomes ritual. I had been writing to him in black ink. How could I possibly change it? But I did. Painlessly.
- In a similar vein, I was able to calmly choose to get a new and better memorial ring, as mentioned in yesterday’s post. That change was tougher than the purple pen, but I knew it was right.
- I’ve stopped reading his horoscope every week.
- I saw a lighted Christmas tree in a window when I was out on my walk last night, and I wanted one.
- On a related note, as I’ve been pondering whether I put the tree up this year (I passed last year—I just didn’t have the heart), I realized that my objection at this point was more about the work of it then the emotion of it. It’s an artificial one, and putzy. You have to take each branch out of the box, fluff it up, and then put it into the “trunk.” It was kind of nice to realize I was more lazy than sad on this one.
- I’ve decided to create a special memorial ornament for the tree in A’s honor, and instead of it filling me with sadness, I’m excited about the project, and about the potential healing meditation just such a project could bring to me. Plus, I think he’d really like what I’ve got planned.
- I’ve not sunk into a deep funk as the hummingbirds have all but disappeared for warmer climes. Despite his messengers being on vacation, I know he is with me. It’s like they were training wheels, in a way, and now I’m riding without them, but know he’s still watching me in case I fall. I can wait until their spring return without despairing. I think.
- I can now watch Journeyman, which takes place in San Francisco, without crying about the scenery. In fact, I kind of like being able to visit there each week from the safety of my bed.
- I am finding that reading the posts at the widow board is interesting from a sociological point of view, in addition to it being a resource for my grief. And I’m also finding that I can empathize and sympathize without drowning again in my own pain.
- I decided I’m not sending Christmas cards to his gang this year. I’m finally ready to take the colossal hint and stop trying to hang on to something that only ever existed in my hopes and wishful thinking.
- I have realized that my continued, occasional anxiety symptoms may no longer be grief-related, and may well be work-related. When the anxiety attacks happened after A passed, I had them at work, at home, anywhere, really. Now I only feel it at work, where I think the sitting all day is really doing a number on my health. I wonder if this is just one more manifestation of that.
