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Four Times!

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I don’t know whether I am in high dudgeon or just depressed today. Something my depression masks as high dudgeon because of anxiety.
Either way, I was just able to say “high dudgeon” twice (oops,3 times!) and that lightens my mood considerably.

It’s just been one of those days, you know?

It started too early with a bunch of texts from people I love but I wasn’t ready to wake up. I attempted to get back to sleep but it was useless so up I was.

And faced my really messy apartment. Because I have been fully in “living alone so WTF” mode, I guess. But I don’t like it, chaos no longer works for me. It made some sense the last couple of days because I have been busy, but this Sunday morning it stopped. Not the chaos, the making sense.

I decided to make a good breakfast for energy to clean and there was the second bump in my road. You see, lately I have not wanted to eat. That doesn’t mean I don’t, no worries about food disorders here.  It means that, if I had  my way I would just take a pill every day and have done with it.  I think I have probably mentioned at some point in all of these missives that I don’t cook. I cook, but not well, or inventively, and that’s been fine. I eat a very uninteresting diet and, unless I go out, it hardly ever varies. So this morning staring at the refrigerator shelves and my choices well…there were no choices. Eggs it was along with a plan to hit the grocery store later. Oh, and a rice cake. And some grapes. Yawn.

I tried to settle in and surf the web but the chaos kept distracting me, so I decided to read instead. Then a little yoga. Finally I put on music and started to clean. I did pick up but stopped short of cleaning because….no reason. Because I need a cleaning person. Along with a cook. (LOTS of great ideas today!)

Next I showered, dressed and headed to Trader Joe’s. I ALWAYS shop at TJ’s.   I ALWAYS get the same things.  EVERY. TIME.  I have no idea why it bothered me so much today, but there it was…I am bored out of my mind with my food choices!  I texted my friend and told her “nothing fucking looks good. Except the wine. The wine looks good”. And, for a second it did. (It passed very quickly no worries.) She texted back that I might want to expand my usual choices.  Well, I have no idea how to do that! I told her I was going to throw a tantrum in aisle 3. Now, those of you who know TJ’s understand the problem with that logic…the aisles are all so damn  small that I could never throw a proper fit, so why bother.

I bought my usuals (plus some chocolate) and left.

Oh, and in fact walked a block and a half back to my car because, just like no aisle space, TJ’s has no parking. It’s insane how they thrive.

Driving home I realized exactly what the solution was.  So I drove into a neighborhood restaurant ordered sweet potato fries. ( I KNOW! don’t say it, I KNOW!)
And then, while waiting, I looked up and saw a man on a laptop .
My heart almost stopped, my eyes welled up and I was looking, for a split second, at my Tom, home from wherever the fuck he’s been.
It’s been a while since that happened, and, I’ll tell you what, it NEVER gets easier. The last time it happened it was actually Eric Stonestreet from Modern Family and I did an incredibly obvious triple take. When I could breathe again I carefully studied him and, dammit, it was uncanny. Eric Stonestreet looked like “when we met” Tom, this guy looked like “when he died” Tom.
I  stared at him the whole time I waited for my fries.   I actually considered taking a picture because I wanted proof. He left before my fries came, perhaps he felt the gaping.
People, that shit is hard, so hard. In the moment it’s kind of like I would imagine a near death experience is….your life flashing before your eyes. It felt like I was going to scream and run into his arms and all would finally be right again.  Gratefully I didn’t act on my impulse, and I don’t thnk that description does it justice, but, whatever. It was awful. Truly. I get no comfort in those sightings, not like I get from clear messages, little winks…seeing him in someone else just stabs me in the heart.

Anyway.
I get home, unpack groceries and feel like hell as I eat the sweet potato fries that I have absolutely no taste for any longer.
I turn on the computer and there I see a nice message from my friend about my lack of interest in food, with some good info.
And then I remember that my sponsee is coming over for some step work before I get to go to my 11th step yoga class tonight and I am so grateful because, service, right sober peeps? Cures what ails you for sure.
And I am recovered. Calm again, shook it all off (except the fact that I hate these fries) and decided to come over here and work on a post because it’s been a while and….

WordPress has changed the way the dashboard and posting looks.
I hate change.

At least there is no more depression..it’s all high dudgeon from here on out.

 

About mishedup

sober, widow, mom, warrior

16 responses »

  1. Thank you, Michele, for giving voice to the longing, the loneliness and the little things that remind us of the one we lost. For me, it is those dog video clips on Facebook, the ones where Daddy comes home from deployment overseas or from a very long time away and the dog is so excited to see him that she runs back and forth to him, each time, reliving the splendor of his return, finally climbing all over him just to get that much closer to him. The squeals the yelps, the barking, it all comes back to me. I am reminded of all the times Glenn would come home from a business trip and how first Mahler, then Chelsea, would carry on in this way. The longer the absence, the bigger the reaction. I watch these video clips and think to myself, it’s been three-and-a-half years; what a reunion that would be. I would give anything to see the two most important lives in my life together again.

    Reply
  2. Ahh, your day sounds like mine, but different.

    I woke up to annoying texts from those I love, am bored to death with food, and was assaulted by wine at the Dollar General. I also hate to cook, but being mom’s caregiver right now, I have had to take on the role. I keep looking for the Chef to come through the door.

    I guess my service work is for my mom right now, but it is hard to feel good about trying to make her feel it is all right not to treat her cancer.

    I called it “Resentments Sunday”. But I like the word dudgeon. No one will know what I am talking about.

    Tomorrow is another day, I hope yours is better.

    Reply
    • mine will be better, as, hopefully will yours.
      you have a rough road ahead of you…keep writing and relying on the support of fellow bloggers.
      i am so sorry you have to go through this

      Reply
  3. “The aisles are all so damn small that I could never throw a proper fit, so why bother.”
    Exactly.

    Reply
  4. I just have to say….Mish, you are such a good writer. I went on that day with you. Saw it. Felt it. And then felt it some more. None of those are my life experiences, but you took me inside of yours and that means you are very, very good at what you’re doing here.

    Reply
  5. Michele,
    I read this before bed last night and it set me to dreaming about you and Tom. I agree with Katy in that you are a great writer and I felt every little gut punch -1000 of what it must have felt like to you. Since I don’t want to ruin the high dudgeon, I’ll simply say that I love this and feel so honored when you tell us about Tom. Sending you virtual love and hugs. xo

    Reply
  6. this is so awesome you are a incredible writer , i love this

    Reply
  7. Well, I first had to Google “dugeon”. So thank you for schooling me on that one.

    I hope I don’t insult by saying that I too get in ruts. Perhaps my little things are a rut, and yours is something deeper. Probably. I can’t speak to loss like yours, so I can’t add to that. But I can relate to those moments (tiny, tiny moments) where yeah, a beer looks good (on a hot day, etc.) But they pass as quickly as they come and then I move onto something else.

    And service…well, there you have it. It pops up at the right times. I know when I am in a funk, doing something for someone, regardless if it’s in AA or in my own home, regardless if I FEEL like it or not…usually gets me started in getting out of that funk.

    Thanks for sharing this – as kath said there , I may not be able to relate to some of the details, I can feel how this was for you…so thank you for opening up.

    Blessings,
    Paul

    Reply
    • we are all the same, we are never alone.
      we don’t compare pain, or ruts or dudgeons!

      it was just a day, and it passed, like they do.
      and yes, so grateful for service. funny how it works every time.
      xo paul

      Reply
  8. Oh, those days. Harumph. Bah humbug. Poop. Fart. Pee.

    Now, I don’t mean to compare my cat to your husband (for gods sake) but sometimes I can hear my cat jump up onto the bed. Or thumping around in the other room and I think “Oh! Sebastian is in the other room!” and then he’s not. And so when I think about putting a beloved husband into that scenario I almost suffocate to feel the surprise and disappointment of that. SHit.

    I sent you a giant hug. And another one for good good measure. xoxoxo

    Reply
  9. Heartbreaking. When you write about Tom, it touches me so. You’re amazing for being able to go on with life, get sober, and do what you do.

    Reply

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