I hadn't had a meltdown for a few weeks. I started to think maybe I was doing okay. I would have days where I didn't even think about the things that make me sad, and would go for hours without thinking about Scott. I would have days where I didn't think about him dying, just think of him. In the back of my mind I was wondering how long that would last? I was thinking this numbness I was feeling was just another grief response. When I got back from vacation I had a similar crash like I did coming home from Camp Widow, just not as intense. But I made it through the week just fine for the most part.
Oh weekends. Time to really sink, time to be so, so alone. Time for thoughts. I didn't really see this one coming. I had plans Friday night and it was nice. Stayed in bed almost all Saturday. But rallied myself into going to trivia night where I spaced out most of the time. Funny how you can be in a crowd, surrounded by friends but be completely alone. Yesterday I sewed and chilled with the boys. Sounds pleasant, yeah?
It all started with a bucket. And here's what you should know about grief - nothing is off limits to set you off. How benign is a bucket??? I've made my own laundry soap for a long time and my bucket somehow got a crack in the bottom so had been leaking all over. Ugggg. But I remembered that I had made soap for Scott once with his old spice bar soap. So, I looked for that bucket. And I found it. And the smell of his soap in that bucket was like a slap in the face. And there was still soap in the bucket. Clearly I can't use that soap. In my head it's his soap. I still have the contents of his wallet together with the money in it that I will never use. It's his.
One of the things that kept coming to mind the past few weeks is how much I long to talk to people about him. No one talks to me about him really. A lot of people I'm around didn't even know him. So there was a feeling for a bit that wondered if he really existed? Was he really here? Were we really married. Of course I have pictures and my memories. But the mind plays tricks. I miss him so much. And that word 'miss' doesn't quite cut it. The bucket gave me that reminder that he was here and it also made me cry out all the pain that was there and hiding in numbness.
Sometimes crying is a relief. Sometimes just suppressing my grief every day to get on normally, it feels good to let it go on the weekend. And then other times it's so intense a pain, it's indescribable. All I wanted after that meltdown was a hug. And here comes the isolation of my situation. I have friends, yes. So I ran down that list thinking - could I call them and ask to come over and just get a hug and then leave? No. I had just had a really, really ugly cry. And people have families and kids and I really just only wanted a hug. No talking. No chatting. I didn't want to have to explain why, I also didn't want to freak out their kids by coming over a mess. And I'm funny about hugs. I have a time limit and I am not touchy feely. So no. No finding someone to hug. The moment passed anyway. Thank God for my dogs. They can't hug but they do love me :)
*Disclaimer: this is my grief journey. There are no answers to it. I know there is nothing anyone can say to make it better and that's okay. This is my space to just get my feelings out.