Letter To My World

By the time you read this, I should be on the beach in Florida.  I am sitting in the airport now waiting for my flight.  Originally this post was going to be for fun because my posts have been pretty heavy lately.  But, yesterday, I discovered I had more to write about my healing journey.  The stupid funny post I was going to write will have to wait.

Yesterday, I discovered that I was in the angry stage of grief.  I’ve learned over the last year or so that the stages of grief come and go, seemingly in waves.  As I go through these cycles, I come to learn more about myself and how I operate.  Some of it is ok, other parts scare the hell out of me.  Anger is one of those parts.  When I’m angry, I go into a “Fuck the World” mode.  A very dangerous place for me to be.  But here I am.

I am totally worn out physically, mentally and emotionally.  I feel like I have nothing left to give anymore.  I even gave away my last “Fuck if I care.”  I’ve lost weight I can’t afford to lose and developed three ulcers.  I am totally out of any kind of energy to deal with life.  I was on the way to the airport two weeks ago for a long-awaited vacation in Florida with my best friend when I got the call that my husband had passed during the night.  Today, I am resuming that trip and escaping to Florida for a week of sun, beach and my best friend. After the last two weeks of planning and holding the funeral and burial, going through my husband’s things with his son, I am more than ready for this trip.  Two weeks ago, this vacation was going to be a respite from everything that was going on.  Today this trip is my escape from reality.

Over the last three months, I have been struggling to deal with everyday responsibilities.  Lots of things have been sliding because I just don’t have the capacity to pay attention.

Yesterday, getting ready to leave, I found myself to be in a total state of disorganization.  My bag was mostly still packed since it had summer clothes that I didn’t need in Minnesota right now.  But then I realized that I needed a load of clothes washed before I left because I needed some of the underwear, etc. for my trip.  But, no time.  I was going to drop my truck off at the dealer for the week to get several things looked at.  A friend was going to pick me up and drop me off at another friend’s house, who was going to babysit my cat and give me a ride to the airport.

I loaded up the truck with my basket of dirty laundry to wash later at my friend’s house and started loading all the cat’s things into the truck.  I had entered my “Fuck the World” mode and decided that I wasn’t going to pay bills, get my thank you cards done, and various other things that I could have/should have taken care of before I left.  I decided. “Fuck It!”  I’m not doing anything before I leave, nor am I taking anything with me to take care of while I was gone.  I had come to the conclusion that I was so fucking done, and that this trip was all about me.  I need it, I’ve got nothing more to give.

I loaded up the cat in his carrier and took off.  I got to the corner of my block and remembered that although I had brought the cat’s litter box (cleaned out), I had forgotten the fresh litter.  So, U-turn and back to the house.  As I entered the house, I realized I had also forgotten the cat’s food.  On the way out, I noticed that my luggage was still in the guest room.  Better take that too.    Obviously, my brain was overloaded with feelings and tasks and I wasn’t functioning at my usual capacity (whatever that is now, I’m not sure).

Both of my friends had to listen to my rant about how I was sick and tired and angry at the world.  Good friends that they are, they listened and let me rant.  I told them that I was so done and that I was quitting my life for a week.  I already told my stepson that I was taking no calls while I was away.  I am not dealing with anybody else’s problems this week.  I decided I was going to do nothing but rest, spend time with my friend, the beach and the sun.  Bills, other work and anybody else’s problems are not my concern this week.  It all about me and getting what I need to keep moving on.  After I’ve had a few days there, I may pick up and do something, but for now, it’s nothing.  Rest, eat, walk and heal are my goals for this week.  When I come back will be time enough to clean up the wreckage of the past few months and get ready to move on.

When I get back, I will be getting ready to sell/get rid of everything, put a few things in storage and become a nomad.  People have been asking me where I’m going to live until we leave next year.  I just shrug my shoulders and say “wherever.”  I’ll find something temporary, not too worried about it.  The other day while sitting in my garage with Alice, I looked at my motorcycle and said that maybe I’ll just load my tent and camping gear on my bike and camp all summer.  I don’t care, I’ll find a place to sleep.

There is nothing left for me here and I no longer have the life with my husband that I’ve had for 41 years.  My oldest son died from alcoholism, the younger one almost froze to death passed out in the snow on the coldest night of the year.  During a later text discussion about whether he was coming to the funeral, he didn’t like what I had to say and blocked me.  My stepson is still here and we’re close, but phone calls and texts are how we communicate mostly anyway.  I have a lot of close friends here and I’ll spend as much time with them as possible before I hit the road.  I’m also going to spend time with my mom this summer.  She’s turning 89 in May, but is still active and taking care of her homes, winter and summer.  She is the coolest mom around and I need to spend more time with her before she’s gone.

So there you have it.  For the first time in my life…I’m acting on my “don’t give a fuck” heart and walking away from my life for a week and refusing to deal with it.  I will be back taking care of my responsibilities, but for now “Fuck it all, it’s all about me.”

Love and Peace

Chick