i exist in Each Day

When I was in Ontario in December, mom and I were driving back to my home town and we were talking about M and I, our relationship, how we’ve changed and grown together, and how I understand why mom never remarried. It’s a conversation we’ve had a few times, with different illustrating details along the way, but this time she talked more about the early days after losing dad and how she had to make the conscious decision to keep living. She said, “I gave myself 5 years, I told myself I wasn’t allowed to do anything about those feelings for 5 years” which is the most tangible grief related anti-suicide advice I’ve ever heard.

I miss my husband.

I’m enjoying my days, well enough. Sometimes the nights are hard. I’ve been doing a MASSIVE purge of the house. Garbage days I bring bulk items up from the basement where they’ve been sitting, down to the end of the driveway. I’m posting things on the local buy nothing group, and I’ve taken two large garbage bags of clothes to the SPCA thrift store, and a shit ton of stuff to the e-waste and recycling centre. It feels good. It’s giving me a sense of accomplishment, which is generally the only positive about these last 3 weeks.
Still somehow 6 weeks until I get to fly to see him. I finally got my travel claim approved, the military pays for transportation to connect next of kin after 60 days apart, and my trip is 61 days since M left. And I’ll get to see him over 2 weekends, while he’s on course during the week.

I volunteered to work tomorrow, everyone else has it off for the holiday, but of course our no-fail section has to be operational for a part of the day. I volunteered because I have to go in to pick up the phone as I’m on duty, so whether I’m home or at work I’m still the point of contact, and also because my family isn’t in the province. Thought I’d take one for the team.
I’m bringing a book and knitting. I’m planning on doing online training, primarily, but man 8 solid hours of training would be mind numbing.

In my decluttering the kitchen, I came across my waffle maker. It has a long storied history with me. My ex and I bought it, the first and last and only appliance we bought together. And when everything ended, he made me pay him for “his half”, because I wanted to keep it. I have used it, not often but enough, over the years. And about 2 weeks ago when I considered getting rid of it, I thought, I don’t use it nearly enough, but I didn’t want to get rid of it. So I planned a brunch. Literally just as an excuse to use my waffle maker. I fuckin’ love that thing.

And brunch was great!! A couple people bailed last minute, but others also RSVP’d last minute. It was a potluck and there was lots of great food options available. People stayed until about 2pm, which was good (Red was he first to arrive at 10am). I was very tired by the time people started leaving. I never doubted my introverted friends when they’d talk about how exhausting people are, but I never felt it until the pandemic. I know many/most introverts don’t dislike their introversion because it’s just how they are naturally, but for a former “high social needs extrovert” this feeling sucks.
It just dawned on me that maybe my extroversion isn’t recoverable. Maybe this is just who I am going to have to be. I don’t hate it, because I have M, and my wives, and dear friends all over this country and the world… but I want to be able to meet new people and not immediately want to take a nap. I liked being that person.

Speaking of, Red and I started a new knitting club. A crafter’s club, technically, because we want all kinds of people to show up. We’ve had two meetings, the first one was only me (Red had a tattoo appointment that ran late), but the second one we had 3 people! One of whom was in our old knitting group that used to meet before the pandemic. I’m going to have to miss this week, though, because I’m on nights. It’s nice to have plans outside the house.

I came to a realization the other day, thinking about Aloy and the game I was playing before M left. That I had to quit cold turkey. I’ve maybe thought of the game 4 times in the last 3 weeks. And exactly none of the feelings were strong. Like, sure, I’d love to play, see where the game is going, whatever, but I’m not missing it, either. Same with weed. We had a LOT of weed over Christmas, and since M’s been gone I’ve had it maybe 4 times. I kinda forget that it’s an option. And while it’s not a depressant, it doesn’t really make me feel any better, so layering it on my general melancholy just seems like a recipe for a not good time.
I came to the conclusion, something I’ve mused over at a number of points in my life when given evidence similar to this, that I don’t have an addictive personality. The psychology of addiction, as opposed to the physiology. I find that really interesting.

I should sleep. Good night.