the uphill climb

I was going through my old Yahoo emails and found some old "anonymous" comments from my friend Christine on my old blog. I moved from that blog to this new one because I needed to make a break from that old 'I'm the wife of an alcoholic' thing. Anyway, I went through a lot of these comments, knowing exactly which ones were from her and remembering all the time she listened to me go over and over "what was wrong with me today."

Over the weekend, something happened that she would have gotten a kick out of and I picked up the phone to call her. I wonder when my brain will REALLY register that I won't ever hear her voice again.

Another thing I did, was click into the old blog and randomly read some things. Michael Michael Michael. bitch bitch bitch. I am grateful to the people who have been reading my blog- because damn I was a mess. Fastforward to now- and well, I still do a lot of bitching. I just think I'm less of a mess- or maybe I'm a DIFFERENT mess.

A pretty mess.

A hot mess.

A pretty hot mess.

Yeah, I like that.

I was also reading those days and how much peace I tried to have then. How I tried so hard to just get through every day without slitting my wrists or hitting my husband over the head with something really heavy. I'm different now. Somewhere along the lines I realized that it wasn't a mountain I wanted to die on.

It wasn't worth the climb, because you never GET to the top of the mountain when you are dealing with active addiction. You just keep climbing. Just keep struggling.

And you

can't

ever

stop.

Well I've stopped. My feet are planted and I'm just waiting for the tram to take me to safety. I should not have to want to die to get out of a marriage.

at a loss

In about a week, it will be 4 months. 4 months since Christine died.

It's been a long and hard 4 months. Nothing feels the same anymore. I've made some big decisions in my life and done a lot of soul searching. A lot of thinking about how I want to live my life, and how I promised myself in her death that I would live better.

A few weeks ago I talked to her mom. It took me several months to make the call- and in hearing her mom's voice, just hearing her smile and how genuinely pleased she was that I called, it tore open any healing I may have done. It's ok, there's hasn't been much. We shared some funny stories and it was nice to know that my funny stories about Christine, she had also shared with her family. It was comforting to me to know, and to hear it from someone else that I meant as much to her as she did to me.

As adults, and especially as colleagues, we are sometimes hesitant to express our emotions and how much we truly care for each other. At my old office, there was one department who would hug at the end of the day when they all walked out together. I experienced this just a few times, and even though I hugged with the group, I admit I drove away thinking how strange it was. It's just the end of the work day. What were we hugging for?? Now, I think maybe they knew what so many others didn't. That when you're friends, and EVEN when you're colleagues it's important to openly appreciate other people. I sometimes wonder if she knew how much
I appreciated her. I know that I didn't tell her often enough.

I think about her all the time. Very few things happen that I don't wonder what she'd think about that. I'm on the verge of making a big change and I keep running it over and over in my head because I can't tell her about it. I won't get her famous, "well... wait a minute." Which she always did whenever I was doing anything I might regret. She always saw something different, she never 'didn't consider' anything.

Maybe it's because I so badly need her advice and support right now, or maybe it's because so many of my favorite TV shows deal with cancer.. but she's always on my mind it seems. There's always this heavy weight that I feel and I know it's because I miss her. Sometimes- something will cross my mind and I will thing to call her. Sometimes I even reach for the phone. It's then that I wonder, did I forget? Did I forget that she's gone and is that why I want to talk to her because I stopped thinking about her? How did I stop thinking about her? How did I forget that she's dead?

I am so out of sorts. So disconnected from my own life. Distracted, depressed and angry. I move forward because I have to, but it's with little passion, little conviction. Nothing feels as good as it used to, and I don't laugh without feeling just a little guilty about it.

Is anything ever going to feel normal again?