For whatever reason, I’m experiencing a bit of a backslide lately. Horse showing was a glowing respite of the general malaise I’ve been feeling. I had so much fun playing pony, that I tried to sign up for another horse show the next weekend to chase my blues away. Unfortunately on Friday afternoon my body decided that ignoring my feelings with hunter courses wasn’t the best plan, and I cancelled the show when I came down with a random fever/flu.
So instead of chasing happiness on Saturday at the show, I sat in my previously cursed laundry room with a pile of IKEA furniture parts and my thoughts.
The darkness has come to me in different forms to me since Tim died. I think people associate a grieving young widow as someone teetering on the edge of a breakdown. Sometimes I wonder if friends and family picture me standing at the edge of a cliff clutching my wedding photos and screaming to the clouds, “I can’t live without you hunny bunny! How can I go ooooooooooooooon?????!?!?”
That’s so not me though. That’s not my darkness.
For me it’s silently crying while I unpack my jewelry into my new solo bedroom. I don’t wipe the tears sliding down my cheeks as I place his cologne bottles next to my perfume and think to myself that I will never love again.
Other times I’ll be on my couch covered in piles of blankets and dogs to watch pirated episodes of “My 600lb Life” on Youtube. I carefully try to drink a glass of Diet Coke while laying down, and think “I can walk around the grocery store all by myself. Man, I am doing awesome!”
Mostly I just pause at variable times during my day and simply think, “What the fuck.” This happened. I’m here, but I don’t understand it.
I hear lots of things from people. That I’m strong. I need to choose happiness. Take all the time I need. It’s the time for me to follow my dreams. Don’t take on more than I can handle. Throw some money around if it makes me happy. Save up and hunker down for the future. Go on a date. Spend time alone and love myself.
They are all accurate to some degree.
I guess I thought that something would have come of all this tragedy by now. My brain needed to cope by believing that there was some reason for Tim’s death. Possibile outcomes ranged from Alexander Skarsgard confessing his undying love for me to this blog being discovered and me being named the next big thing in literary nonfiction. You know, just a simple press tour around the world with Alex and my adoring fans. You know, reasonable expectations.
We get closer to one year after and there is no great redemption. There is just the terrible thing that happened, and the darkness that followed.
This will pass, and things will get better. In the meantime I keep on pushing, because I’m stubborn and giving up has never been much in my vocabulary. My hope is that soon I’ll know more of what I’m pushing towards.