I wrote the following before I met with my new therapist. I think I’m going to like her. I talked almost the entire time and she didn’t stop me once to tell me about her own family as did my most recent. Nor, as the one before that did, she didn’t stop me to ask me how the company I work for is doing in the stock market and if she should buy nor whether Montey and I truly were at peace turning our back on Jesus, Christianity, the whole shebang… Judaism, Islam, or something more obscure like Jainism? Guarantee the thought that any other religion could be fine as well never crossed that one’s mind. To her credit, it took her about nine months to really make it clear that being an atheist wasn’t really okay with her.
Just turned 51 a week and two days ago.
My husband died five and a half-ish months ago. He actually died on what would have been my mother’s 70th birthday, at about 10:30 at night – but because we knew it was going to happen and I was a nurses aide in my earlier lifetime… I waited to call hospice until after I’d given him a bath and talked to him and gotten him redressed… So he was actually pronounced at 12:15am on Feb 8.
For about 2 months I really struggled sleeping Tuesday nights
We were together 31 years. We met in the Spring of 1992. I was 19, he was 38, he turned 39 about six weeks after we got together and I turned 20 two and a half months after that.
We met because I went to work for him and moved into his laundry room. We got together because one night, about a month into working for him, out with all the guys at the bar, somebody joked something, another joke was made, and he said, “you know where my bed is.” And as they say, the rest, the next 31 years, was history.
During those years, a lot happened, my mom died, my grandma died, my best friend from high school died but I’m not exactly sure when because that was one of my many friends that I lost touch with. They weren’t his friends.
His mom died, My grandfather and other grandmother died.
There were so many good times and so many bad times. He was an alcoholic – I married my mother – and was physically abusive, maybe 5ish times. Threateningly so? Many, many more… And emotionally so. And I changed so much to stay together.
I gave up myself and changed. I walked on eggshells. I never answered “what do you want for dinner” without considering his mood, and how it would affect him, and what he likely wanted.
And over the years something else changed. He got old, and sick. And I became a caregiver, and stayed.
And this was written that night, after I met with her. Also, I went back and cleaned up the structure above a bit. But otherwise, carry on.
I told her that I hope he never realized how truly checked out of life I was at that point.
And so she assigned me homework. A journal prompt, What does the polar opposite of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day look like?
And holy fuck, I didn’t realize what I’m really holding inside. Parts of it are still achievable in my lifetime… parts of it are long departed, let’s be realistic.
Picture Margo Thomas – That Girl, prancing through the streets of New York.
That’s who I wanted to be. I wanted to live in a big city, I wanted to prance through the streets between my important job and my stylish mod apartment.
She was not old, fat, and widowed… There’s only one of those things I don’t have to be.
But that’s who came to mind. What’s funny is I’m not sure if I ever saw much past the opening credits and a snippet here or there. So let’s break it down.
I would really like to live close to my job, super close, walk to work is fine – but the area is considered a bit sketchy at night, but can you imagine opening your windows and hearing all the concerts, faintly? I can sleep through anything so noise level is not a consideration.
And sketchy? I get that it probably isn’t great, but that shit’s overblown. Okay, I’ve had more than one parent (not mine, when I was a family liaison) tell me not to smile and make eye contact with everyone. My actual parent, my mother, was always friendly, to everybody, all encompassing, everybody. My dad, it turns out, is a bit of a – let’s be nice and not use the more emotionally charged words that more accurately describe his kind’s world view – snob.
Whoa, we’re getting off task. Back to my assignment. What does the polar opposite of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day look like? For me? Smells? Sounds? Time? Activities? Wake-up? Go to bed? Job?
So let’s be honest with ourselves, shall we? I don’t want to live here. I don’t give a flying fuck that it is the more fiscally responsible and insane future responsible answer. I really don’t enjoy it. It’s too big, it’s too isolated, it’s too outdoorsy, it’s so many rooms that I don’t need and I really hate cleaning. But over the years I’ve come to respect some parts of here – hence the retirement part of the vision.
I want a one bedroom apartment. I want my cat’s litter box, an automatic one, to be in the laundry room. I want a day bed in the living room, with drawers underneath. In the bedroom, my dressers, closet, etc. And my sewing machine and accouterments in there. WTF I need to put my bed in in a bedroom. Put it in the living room – company comes over? Add some throw pillows and a nice coverlet. My work desk can go in with the sewing machine, as can the personal laptop. “A work room.”
Have a chair for guests. A card table & chairs to get really fancy.
I like being alone – I always did. I fell into this life of a pair and I did it good – ‘til death do we part.”
Sell this house. Bank the money. Get an apartment, the nicest I want. Save, save, save – basically everything that’s left.. For now, limited food costs. Car almost paid off… keep the stupid thing. Minimal upkeep costs, minimal driving if I live close to work (investigate apartments on bus route!)
If I choose to live a bit farther away, but can use public transportation? Reading!
Retire part? So, I think ultimately, I should look for a super cheap camp up north. Buy it, fix it, keep it, maybe rent it to hunters. Retire there.
That way, have some bit of real estate of my own, paid off with minimal costs, to live in, off the money in the bank, for retirement.
Why the fuck not? It’s MY life – I can do whatever the fuck I want!
So, it’s 11pm – I have really got to decide my future. And my future self goes to bed like a good adult should. Midnight just makes everything more difficult.