A few years ago I thought it would be a good idea to take one of the little canoes (boat? idk) and row across the little pond. It was a beautiful clear day and Scott was out fishing in one of the "real" boats. The way across was great, the way back not so much. It turned out there was quite a breeze that had picked up. Try as I might I wasn't getting much distance between the shore and me. Also, I am very, very prone to sea sickness. I kept thinking that any second Scott would come motoring up in the real boat and save me. Nope. I ended up against a cattle gate on one of the shores and very close to losing my lunch. I did the only rational thing that came to mind at the time - I got out of the boat. Sea sickness thwarted. But now I had to get me and the boat back to the dock and out of the neighbor's field. So, I grabbed the rope on the boat and started walking the shore. There was a big tree in my way so I tried to get back in the boat thinking I could at least row around the tree and get back out to walk. That didn't work either and I ended up swimming in the algae filled pond pulling the boat behind me. When it was shallow enough to walk I would, but the algae is so thick you can't see in the water and I would crack my shins along the way on rocks under the water. Did I mention this pond is right alongside the highway? Oh yeah, it is and various autos felt like they also needed to honk at me as I struggled. Hilarious. I did, eventually, make it to the dock.
Sometimes this story seems very funny to me. Lately, though, it seems to sum up my life very succinctly. I think I have a great idea and things are okay, and then they are not. They are very bad. and I struggle along pulling the weight of my emotions behind me. And there are onlookers (friends, family, anyone else with an opinion) who honk at me along the way. Perhaps they consider this help? Or maybe they just have an opinion and don't care to listen to me or offer help either way it's just noise to me. and distracting.
When Scott was alive we had struggles. Every relationship does. We talked a lot about whatever would bother the other one. He would always say "I'm okay, you're okay, WE'RE okay." and it would soothe the situation. In the big picture he was right. Onlookers never understood us. I can't tell you how many times the advice I was given was to give up, get divorced, throw a fit, or any other thing to do to get my way. I refused to give up on "US". And frankly, that was a very lonely place to be - when anyone I'd seek comfort or support from only wanted me to give up, or badmouth him. I stopped talking to people about my relationship. But, I could always talk to Scott - about anything and everything. He was the only person in my life ever who knew every single thing about me, everything. And he loved me anyway. No matter what I brought to him. We were in the same boat together no matter what. It was always I'm okay, you're okay, we're okay.
Now he's dead. So he's not okay. Which brings me to I'm not okay. And there is no more "we". What now? I'm struggling to believe he's even gone and he's not here for me bounce ideas off of, to talk to to make sense of anything so it's even less real. Nothing was ever for real until I talked to him about it and processed how I felt. I hate not having him here, I hate that there is nothing left. I hate that my memory is crap and I feel like I've lost half of myself - my brain included because he had a great memory and would remind me of places, things, people. For 17 years it was the two of us and a lot of those years were away from anyone that is around me now, so they have no idea what we went through or that place in Kentucky that we went to that one time.
There is no answer and I don't expect anyone to try - you can't make it better and neither can I right now. I'm just wading through this murky pond, cracking my shins on giant rocks and my arms and legs are tired. And it hurts. And I can't even see the dock or any relief.