As someone who likes to juggle a lot of things, I tend to be at my best when I’m multi-tasking like a mofo. It works for me. The busier my brain is, the more I can keep the crazy at bay. When I focus too much on one thing, well… I get a little crazy.

At the beginning of last week I had some things in my life that I was really excited about. You’d think by now that I would have learned to keep my expectations in check, but I allowed myself to be thrilled. I allowed myself to imagine the fancy hunter and all the other potentially exciting things working out perfectly for me. I did this, because I figured I was due for a win.

If anyone has seen Moulin Rogue (best movie), you’ll know that everything did not go so well. After the manic happy start to my week, things started unraveling and I got pretty down.

This is a bit of a rambling post because my thoughts are rambling. I’ve got a lot of things bouncing around in my head right now like ping pong balls. My horse enthusiasm has taken a pretty serious hit. Austin is getting slammed with rain again which makes it easy for me to avoid going to the barn. If I’m being honest though, I just don’t feel like it right now. I spent the majority of my weekend drinking with friends or sleeping.

The other parts were spent writing. I’m through fourths a chapter that isn’t ever intended for the blog, and when I am in the middle of a piece for my book I have a hard time blogging in general. Right now I’d rather have my best brain power be put to the book than here (sorry readers).

It doesn’t help that I am nearing and passing several important milestones in my widow journey. Last week was the anniversary of our friend’s wedding, which is only important to me because it was the first time all of Tim’s friends realized that something was seriously wrong with him. Pictures from that day are the last ones I have of him and I where we’re dressed up and among friends, but I can’t even look at them because I can see in face how fucked up he was the entire time. How I didn’t realize what was happening then, I’ll never know.

Next week will be one year after his first overdose. The week after, a year after my life fell apart.

My mood is pretty melancholy whenever I spend a lot of time working on the book. Last night as I tuned out my feelings with sitcoms and pizza, I couldn’t shake a feeling that hangs with me today. My life now is probably better than it was the last few years of my marriage. It might even be better than I could have ever imagined in the future, but it’s so much harder.

I think I could be happier in the future than I was with him, and that’s scary. I might be happier, but my old life was so much easier.

While I work through some of this and get my horse mojo back, I’m hitting the pause button. Later this week I’ll head to North Carolina for a wedding with the same group of friends that we celebrated with last year while Tim was under the influence of god knows what. They’re the same friends who joined me in Asheville, and I’m hoping some time with them and my other friends/family will leave me feeling a bit more grounded. Right now I feel like I’m floating around mid-out of body experience.

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