Coping with Coping

I woke up this morning from a very realistic dream. I was at someone's wedding (don't quite remember whose), and I was 7 months pregnant. It felt so real that I was sort of surprised to wake up un-pregnant.

So many people have had such eloquent things to say about the whole same-sex marriage debate. Me, not so much. However, I must have been internalizing a lot of it because I keep dreaming about marriage. I keep dreaming that either Em or I are marrying someone else (usually, but not always, of the male persuasion), and it makes me confused. The other night I dreamed that Em said she no longer wanted to legally marry me. Actually she announced that neither of us wanted because of some political thing. Except that we'd never talked about it, and I was all hurt that she felt that way.

So, no more marriage debates, please. My dreams are getting boring.

In other news, no more fever or aches, but my shoulder is still hurting.

I so should have seen this coming. I am, in fact, sick. Feverish, chilled, achey, sore, tired, weak. I thought it was stress or maybe depression. I always get sort of weepy before I get sick. I'm sure my lack of shedule (eating or sleeping) plus the stress had an impact.

I went to my allergy shot this morning, and after explaining my month-long absence, the nurse looked at me, very concerned, to make sure I was feeling alright physically. They always ask before they do the injection, but this time she seemed to think that perhaps I was lying to her. When a nurse tells you you look sick, you probably are.

Anyway, went into work, but could barely make it down the hall and up the stairs. Decided to go home, read a little for work there and then go back this evening. Yeah right. Even with a lot of fever reducer/pain killer in my system, I am very uncomfortable.

No church for me today either. It's a shame since I look forward to the ashes every year. They are such a good way of marking the passage of time and a reminder that I should be gentler with myself. I am only human, and I have a tendency to view too much of what goes on in the world as my fault. I usually wipe them off after the service, even though I don't think I'm really supposed to. It's less about having them and more about getting them.

Anyway, soup and toast for dinner, and maybe some more orange juice.

So today I had grief induced depression and subsequent lack of motivation on top of a migraine. So I didn't go into my exhausting new job, even though I had an experiment set up. But, cut me some slack, it would have been at least a 10-hour day. I find this behavior understanding, yet disturbing. I've decided not to worry about it, as long as it doesn't happen again.
Once I could handle the light again, I spent the day (and am continuing to spend the evening) listening to Suzanne's CDs, although they do nothing to alleviate the grief and even induce crying (Dancing Queen notwithstanding). I know that it is good to grieve. I do, truly. I know if I don't experience it, it will come out later in horrible ways and that I will be lesser for it. But, my God.

And speaking of God, I feel so far removed. I know it's nothing new, wondering why bad things happen to good people. Or even bad people, because I don't think God is vindictive. And something (else) has happened which a few of you know, but I don't feel like going into here, to make me gape at the unfairness of the world. I know it's better as is, but still. I feel so lost.

Every year I feel that Lent comes when I really need it, but no more than this year. I need to figure out where to go get ashes tomorrow. Maybe being reminded of my own mortality will help. Yeah, maybe not, but we can hope.

Sorry that this has gotten so depressing lately. Reading such raw, unedited grief is perhaps not the best way to surf the net.

I really never knew what grief was before. I thought I understood it. I thought that I would somehow be immune from it. Or, rather, I never thought it would hurt this badly. It really is impossible to describe this kind of pain. It just feels so raw. Like I have to look at it sideways because it is just too much to look at headon.

This is going to be something I carry around with me forever. There are only a few other things that have happened to me that I am so aware of changing me. In fact, there are only really two others. So, three things that I know deep in my bones have changed who I am, and this is the worst.

Having faith, believing in God and resurrection helps, but it doesn't help as much as I thought it would. Yes, I believe she is with God, that she has found peace. But that doesn't make the overwhelming absence of her easier.

And I know that I will someday close the casket on Em, or she will on me. I don't know if I can do that. I mean, obviously I don't have a choice, I can't make her live forever, but my god. I feel too young to be such an adult. Getting married, buying a house, fine, but death? Not ready yet to acknowledge my own mortality and the mortality of my beloved. At Suzanne's funeral the minister said that she truly knew that she was loved. I hope Em never has to doubt my love for her.

I arrived back home today to find the cat-sitter trying to leave yet trapped in a snowbank. Okay, she wasn't sprawled on her back stuck in the snow. Her car's rear wheels were firmly planted in the snowbank. Thank goodness for AAA.

The cats do not seem as happy to see me as I think they should be. Of course I've spent the past 4 hours chasing them off countertops and away from plants, so maybe I shouldn't expect too much love. I'm sure they will decide that they need their lovin' at 3 in the morning. And I'll probably give it to them too. I'm such a sucker.

Thanks to some very cool on- and offline friends, I came home to:

A bowl of organic fruit
3 new plants
A loaf of Zingerman's Farm bread
2 bottles of my favorite wine
olives
chocolate, chocolate, and more chocolate
extra-fancy vanilla
dried mushrooms
crackers
soup
Irish oatmeal
tofu
cheese
kale
broccoli
lettuce
milk
half and half
orange juice
a new vegetarian cookbook
an entire freezer full of ready to eat meals
and more that I am forgetting

So thanks. All of you. I damn near started crying again.

There isn't much to say about the visitation and the funeral. The food at the wake was great. The sermon was great. I am so drained. And I have another funeral to go to Saturday.

Where have I been, you ask? I've been in Kalamazoo. Again.

I started my new job. Or rather, I went in for one day. Then I came back. Suzanne died on Friday morning. We were all with her, and it was peaceful. I am grateful for that, but it pales in comparison to the grief I feel at her loss. It seems so trite to say it, but I really can't believe she's gone. I understand that she's not sick any longer. I know we are doing the whole viewing/funeral thing for her. Fine. But my brain won't wrap around the concept that she isn't going to ever be here with us again.

And I do have a cold. An extreme cold, if you will. A chest cold, a head cold, a coughing up blood cold. It's not like I need to have something clogging up my nose when I'm crying so much.

And, my great aunt? She died last night. Her funeral is on Thursday. Two funerals in one week for family members I loved and was close to? Not so much fun. In fact way too much.

So, how has your week been?

I'm sure you all know by know that my mother-in-law is dying. Really, truly, almost-there dying. I came home because I got a job. Yea me for that, but I can't seem to get excited about it right now.

Thanks for all of your support. And thanks to Mimi Smartypants for actually making me laugh. That helped. Thanks to T. the cat-sitter. She is so great. She took me out to dinner last night and let me ramble on and on. I got to eat vegetables again. I was so tired that I didn't even have the strength to argue when she paid for us both. Then I came home and slept (in my own bed!) for 11.5 hours.

I think I'm getting a cold. There are not enough curse words to express how much I don't need that right now.

I'm going to stop now. I just wanted to update.

A couple of other notes about Chicago: We stayed at the Days Inn-Lincoln Park. It was a nice old hotel (and cheap!) except for two things. 1) The floor plan was labyrinthian (as in labyrinth-like). And 2) Using the hair dryer made the lights dim. Why was I, the queen of wash (occasionally) and go, using a blow dryer, you ask? Because I forgot to pack us clean underpants. So, I washed yesterdays out in the sink and then blew them dry, or, more accurately, damp. At least they were clean.

We also walked 8 blocks out of our way to go to the sushi place. The temperature had fallen by then to about, oh, I don’t know, cold-enough-to-make-your-thighs-numb degrees. The exercise was good, but next time, I’m bring my fleece-lined pants.

My period started today. I was mildly surprised, although I shouldn’t have been. My breasts had become so huge I thought I might really need to buy new bras. And I’d been craving M&M’s. Not just any M&M’s, but the plain (though I guess they’re called “Milk Chocolate” now), brightly colored ones. Those stupid gray ones or the valentine’s pastel ones simply would not do. So I have no excuse for being anything resembling shocked that I started bleeding.

Once in college, late at night, Ben and Brian got me Ben and Jerry’s, made me a card, and framed a picture that Ben took of Brian and me. Just to make me feel less PMS-y. And they’re gay. I love those guys. They need to hurry and move back to the States. No more of this ex-patriot crap.

College roommate: pregnant.
Sister-in-law: pregnant (again).

Who's next?

I'm thinking of renaming this blog "Life gets in the way." I seem to be saying that a lot lately. Every time I make plans, it seems I am destined to be thwarted.

We went to Chicago this weekend. I love that city. We ate tons of wonderful food, went to a great church, and saw my best friend who is back from Germany. I wish I could report some of the hilarious conversations we had, but I’m afraid they might lose something in the retelling.

It actually got above freezing there. It felt so warm I almost (*almost*) took off my hat, gloves, scarf, and coat. Ha.

If you ever get a chance to visit Chicago, go see Flea. Have her take you to the Moroccan restaurant. Get the mint tea. You won't be disappointed. She’s also a brilliant conversationalist.

It came to my attention that I have never bought condoms. You’d think a girl my age would have had occasion to make a prophylactic purchase. Alas, no. Perhaps the lesbian thing got in the way.

If, after I proposition you, I fail to pay your cab fare home, but I buy you breakfast, am I still a bad date?