I'm Not At All Fine

(But thanks for asking)

The house is just so quiet, you know? There are so many different types of quiet. I’ve always been a big fan of quiet, of peaceful silence. There’s so little silence in my brain, so a silent environment is something I’m always kind of seeking.

But the kind of quiet that descends upon my house after 9 or 10 isn’t my favorite, these days. It feels like I’m the only one alive anywhere in the world. Like some sort of apocalypse has happened, and I’m all that’s left. That’s the kind of quiet filling my house as I type this.

I can play loud music, or audiobooks. I can turn on talk radio on SiriusXM, or a podcast, or YouTube, or TikTok. I can make noise, and the dogs can too (as anyone who’s been here knows). This quiet isn’t the kind of quiet that goes away when noise happens. It pauses until the noise stops, as it always will, and then steps back from around the corner like it was just holding its breath and waiting. Making noise in the house doesn’t banish this quiet, and that sucks.

It was a challenging day for me. I didn’t have much peace in my heart today, and spent a lot more of my time in tears than normal. It’s not the tears that I mind, though—those are fine, and I even welcome them lots of the time, because I feel that I know where they come from and why they’re here. It’s the upheaval in my heart that made it a difficult day.

I know that this life is a complex one, and that plenty of things happen that we have no understanding of or control over. But my life doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to be playing itself out this way. It doesn’t feel like I’m meant to be here, going through all this pain. That’s probably because I’m still trying to talk myself into not coming to terms with the reality of the situation as it is, on some level. Being aware of it doesn’t really help me feel any better, though. It might actually make me feel worse. I often wonder if folks without much self-awareness end up happier.

I miss my wife. I’m tired of having to remember so many things and decide so many things and do so many things without my best friend and constant companion. I’m sad and lonely and not having a good time.

I woke up to a few messages from folks who love me wishing me a happy birthday month and letting me know that they’re here for me since it’s probably going to be a tough one. And they’re right, it probably is. I appreciated people reaching out. I don’t know whether it feels so hard because so many people have acknowledged that it’s going to be hard (so that makes it feel tougher in my mind), or whether it would have been as challenging if I had just kept quiet about it and not brought it up. I don’t suppose it makes much of a difference which is the case, since it’s hard either way.

I was grateful to get the chance to see my therapist today. She pretty much always helps me feel better, and I feel fortunate to have her kind of support in addition to the kinds of support that others can offer me.

One of my friends has offered to help with anything I need doing which requires organizational skills, and I’m taking her up on that with two projects I’ve been putting off for a while. I’m proud of myself for saying yes, please step in and save me from this nonsense I’d never be able to force myself to do otherwise.

I’ve been thinking about support and what it means to me this week, especially since I’ve been on my own a lot more than I’ve been used to due to my parents being here with me for a couple of months. If I feel loved and supported by you, then I don’t think it really matters how other people perceive the positive impacts of your presence in my life. I don’t have to rank those who I feel most supported by and determine who’s the best at it and who’s the worst at it. It has felt so situational to me—I’ll need someone to help with the mulch, and someone offered their strong teenager. I’ll need someone to hang out with me for a few minutes, and someone chooses to take the time out of their day and sit here (maybe even with coffee or lunch). Or I’ll need advice about something pressing, and someone texts me back and helps me sort through next steps with that. I don’t sit back and arrange people on a cork board according to their point value. When I’ve needed you and you’ve come through for me, that’s all that matters. So for anybody who has been present for me, you’re the best source of support I have in that moment. You win, for that moment. And I appreciate you, for the rest of all time.

By the same token, I don’t want you to rank yourself and your support or contributions to me and determine that you’re not doing a good job. Just say hi every now and then, and offer up to me what you’ve got the time, energy, or motivation to give. You don’t have to quit your job and sell everything you own so you can fund my lavish lifestyle. I really don’t want to impose on any of you, and so it doesn’t make me feel any better if I know you are giving me more of yourself than you can afford. There’s no need.

Because let’s be honest: I’m not going to feel permanently better no matter what you do, so you shouldn’t go to extremes in the hopes of being able to “fix” my situation. It’s quite literally unfixable. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I am always going to have bad days or bad hours. You will too! You don’t have to take on the responsibility of solving this life for me, because it is always going to be more challenging than it would be if Kellie were here with me.

Please keep asking me how I’m doing. Sometimes I’m just not going to be doing well. I have to sit with the discomfort of that, and you do too—I don’t have the energy to pretend I’m fine when I’m just not. And today I’m not. Check back in tomorrow, because maybe I’ll be fine then, but today I’m not.

I know she’s gone. I just wish she weren’t.

Thank goodness for central air,

Matt