If You're Looking for the Next Place You Can Call Home

I held it together today, mostly. I had to drag myself out of bed this morning and I am not the kind. I usually hear my alarm before it gets loud and bounce right out of bed to start my day. I just wanted to hide under the covers, warm and familiar until everything stopped hurting. Spoiler: it never stops.

I worked. I even managed to be productive. I cried a little, but not much. It's like everything is just right back to the surface with my own recent experience. It feels like the model I had for not being perfect and being weird and being brilliant is gone now. Like they were the couple that no matter what, and you could see those fault lines, would work it out because of their love and their passion and the weirdness and imperfection and brilliance. I feel a little romantically hopeless. 

When I get anxious or upset, I itch. I know that's strange. And then I scratch in my sleep. Got myself good last night. Four inches of claw marks up my left arm. I told someone today that when I'm emotionally strung out I want a hug and also to shoot something. Hopefully not the same thing. I really could use that hug. And to watch something physically torn apart to match the way I feel. Had an offer for that hug, but it wasn't sincere. I'm not surprised. Don't offer what you aren't ready to deliver. Ever.

The whole thing is just heavy and reminiscent. Our whole courtship and wedding were a sort of homage to that couple. My marriage is over, but I thought that symbol would always remain. Truly, none of us was surprised. There had been trouble in paradise for a long time and it was clear. I am not speculating on what the situation was, simply stating that as kind and careful as they both were about everything publicly, I know firsthand that you cannot mask that kind of pain. Well, maybe someone can, but I doubt anyone that I want to know.

I got home and had a good, proper breakdown. I'm still not recovered enough to keep this level of snot at bay when  cry. I'm not just mourning an icon, I'm mourning my own life again. I'm mourning the symbolism that will never be the same again. The sparrow and anchor will never look the same to me. Birds will never be the same for me. I mourn the flagship and the piece of land. I'm mourning eyes a shade of wonder, like if thunder had a color. Mourning home and faith and trust. I'm mourning feeling like part of something better than you are because someone better than you loves you. I'm mourning countless listens to countless songs and accordion with violin. 

I can't remember ever responding to news of anyone's divorce this way. It always seems to make sense and this one does too. 

And the disgusting people coming out of the woodwork with "Here's my chance" and "I don't have to pretend to like her music anymore" as if they ever really listened anyway. All music doesn't have to be for you. And you don't have to be gross. I guess that part hits home too. "Someone has to take her down." People you thought were better. People never get better.

There is this photo, taken at the Ryman in October when I won that pair of front row tickets. Amanda opened for her husband, guess that's the last time that will happen at the Ryman. The photographer must have seen me stand. Her in three quarter profile, my pale face beyond in a dark crowd. That was just before I expected my own divorce to be final and she sang one of three songs. It's a miracle there aren't tears visible. I cried. The look on my face says it all. You can see the pain. I'm told that I'm expressive. Different context, but I guess it all bleeds over.

I don't want to be alone right now. I'm usually pretty good company for myself. I guess you have to learn how to be alone. I'm certain I can. Not many things I can't do. Maybe that's part of the process. Maybe it's supposed to be this way. Maybe this lump in my throat that I can't swallow is supposed to be. Radical acceptance, baby. I'm on it.


Comments

  1. James HennessyFebruary 8, 2024 at 5:48 PM

    I want to throw a baseball through a window and give you a hug

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The Wicked PossumFebruary 14, 2024 at 9:08 AM

      I'm okay. A big heart just gets heavy sometimes. All a learning process.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

We Traveled Nationwide, Til We Settled Here on the East Side

Image
I am not supposed to consider my sleep as a factor in not feeling well. I keep having to remind myself of that. I'm entering my fourth week of mild,  self-controlled sleep deprivation, prescribed and overseen by a sleep psychologist. I woke up this morning feeling like I have the flu. I've had a headache for two days, I'm nauseated, I feel woozy. I slept through my alarm this morning. That has not happened in over a decade. I feel like I got good and drunk last night and have had about four drinks total in the past week. When she told me that we're doing at least another week, I didn't cry. I haven't cried yet. I do have a giant lump in my throat because all I want to do right now is crawl back in bed after a cup of coffee and my ADHD medications. Good news is that we always talk in the morning, so I'll have plenty of time to get this particular thing out of my system before bedtime. She says that's important. So much of what our appointments include is ...
Read more

Don't Forget the Key's Under the Mat

Image
It’s been the same every year on this day. I never can believe that he’s as old as he is. It’s his last real milestone to adulthood. He’s 21 today. In fifteen minutes, to be exact. The only one I have and I always knew he’d be the only one. As much as I always loved him, it wasn’t fair to even try to love someone else that much. I just don’t think I could. He’s been my favorite person since the moment he started being his own person. My baby, my buddy, my biggest fan, my confidante, my partner in crime, my adventure accomplice, my concert companion, my ride-or-die, my travel copilot, my best friend. We talk almost every day. My heart hopes it will always be that way, but my mind knows that I shouldn’t expect him to live his life for me. He’s out on his own now. People have asked me if that hurts. It’s two things. I miss him. Lord, do I miss him. I didn’t bake him a cake for the first time in his life this year. That breaks my heart more than I can find words to tell. I bought the ingre...
Read more

Don't Chase That Carrot Til it Makes You Sick

Image
I can't remember the last time I sat down to write. It's not that I'm uninspired or that I have writer's block or whatever. I have not had time to sit without my usual guilt. I sit here now with "clean out bedroom drawers" written in ink pen on my palm like a '90s phone number. I miss this. The time sitting still, a Tropicalia at my right hand, two in. James McMurtry in my ears, wondering if in a few weeks, I should buy one ticket or two. My God, I'm happy. I guess the time has come to share the news. I'll be a proper Athenian in a week and sixteen hours. I never thought in a million years that I'd own anything. It makes way more sense than I ever thought it would. I always said that with Gabe grown, I'd do this. I'd buy a condo in a city somewhere that I could walk or bike or ride a bus anywhere I wanted to be. Nowhere up North. I get cold. Nowhere out of the country, I have a criminal record, you know. And that seriously limits my opt...
Read more