Slip Sliding Away

From the moment I woke up this morning, things just felt wrong. Like I had slipped sideways into another universe in my sleep and woken up in a place where everything was just somehow—off.

And of course something is off. Kellie’s gone, and that’s awful and difficult in all kinds of ways. But it was different today, and who knows why.

I spent some time with the dogs, then went and ate breakfast at the lake. Spent some time in Kellie’s garden, played some more with the dogs. Cried a lot.

At some point this afternoon, the wrongness just dissipated, like that, out of nowhere. Poof. Gone as quickly as it came.

If you were one of the people who checked in on me today, you really helped. Thank you!!

Grief is such a strange animal, and just when you think you’ve figured out how it’s gonna go, some new shitty wrinkle of it pops up.

As someone told me (extremely un-helpfully) at Kellie’s celebration of life, I have a long way to go in this journey I’m on. And that’s okay. It feels bad to have no idea what’s around the bend, though. The uncertainty of it gives me a sense of a complete and utter lack of control in my life, which is profoundly uncomfortable to me. And please don’t tell me “it’s okay, everything is going to be awful for you forever and ever”. Because I’m already struggling with a bit of that mindset, and I would rather be able to have some sense of power and control in some aspect of my daily existence, thank you very much. Even if that’s ultimately an illusion.

Speaking of journeys, a friend told me last week that she doesn’t like when folks call her situation a “journey” because that implies that there’s a purpose and a starting and ending point and that it’s neat and tidy, which it most certainly is not. And I agree with all of that, but I haven’t come up with a better way to articulate this period of my life yet.

I also spent a great deal of my day consumed by anxiety about a meeting I had scheduled for this evening. Fortunately, it went really well, and I came away from it feeling loved and comforted and seen and supported, even in the midst of my vulnerability. I only cried a few times during the meeting (yes, it was the kind of meeting it’s okay to cry in). Community is really nice, if you can find it.

I hope my day tomorrow(and yours) will be a little less odd, and a lot more joyful.

XOXO,

Matt