So I blogged a few hours ago about boo-hoo life is shit… then a best mate came through to paint smiles on my face.
While I must get off of the island of Queens and back to my beloved Manhattan, I need to say, living down the block from Chris and David has been divine. It’s funny the Universe “just happened” to plant me here while dealing with two events that will definitely be something brought up at 70th birthday parties… which happened to occur within an eight week period down the block from my best friends.
Earlier tonight when I was ranting about how things can always be worse, I guess this ties to that. I can bitch all I want about my dog dying for no reason or another husband walking out. Though realistically, I know my life is far from bad.
Once I get another apartment in midtown, it will be further improved. I think I’m finished saying things can always get worse. I’m starting to prefer, thank goodness for what I’ve got.
Regardless. I have to tell myself, anyways. If I don’t… well… no matter.
Thank you Chris, David, Queens, Cult, Om, Azna and all the rest.
Namaste blog tribe
I hope you are all well around the world. I’ve decided that I think that I’m a hard person. I realized this today, when I sniffled and sobbed all the way to the vet to pick up Henry’s ashes. Alone. In freezing cold weather. Which somehow makes it worse, cold always makes everything worse.
Husband 2 is officially off the scene. I haven’t mentioned much about the details, some things are private even in Internet land. Needless to say, we bid each other an amicable adieu. I’ve realized I’m shit at being married. I’m moody, I get reclusive, I’m stuck in my ways and lots of other things.
It’s officially down to Peanut and I. Last year around this time, I was grieving my first husband and longing for the puppies to arrive. Little did I know that by the time they arrived, my second marriage would be over – and Henry’s body would be in its final weeks of a silent fight with cancer that no one could have saw.
Numb is the best way to describe my present state. I’ve seen some shitty times throughout our bloggy journey. But I’d like to give a special shout out to the suck that is presently having a feed on my fighting life. I’m not someone to sugar coat things. While I understand that at the end of the day, no one can rescue “you” except “you”, and yes, it can always be worse… but bloody hell… I’ve taken a serious beating over the past two months.
My focus stays on apartment. I am going to get Peanut set up someplace where I can visit her during lunch. I’ve considered getting her a friend, but how do you replace a sibling?
I don’t know how I’m fighting right now when I hurt so much. I’ll work it out. I’ve been in Sunnyside for eight weeks. During these eight weeks any certainty I thought was there evaporated. All I have is faith.
That’s just going to have to be enough.
While I was walking Peanut through the Sunnyside industrial park my present abode is perched within, two local construction workers stopped me this morning. Separate instances. One query:
“Where’s the other one?”
I’m not the only one adjusting to Henry being gone. I think I’m getting better at pretending to not be bothered. My therapist seems to think I’m cruising along with recommendations of fortnightly visits.
Fine by me. Like I’ve been stating recently, it’s hard to care about anything without Henry. I’m glad to be checking in with the cult still. The insignificance of the rest minus Peanut is ineffable.
And tomorrow is Thanksgiving…
Also, I made the executive decision that I am leaving Queens. Queens would have been a good squatting spot for two puppies. Now it’s just depressing. I have an enormous house, with a fenced yard, which would have been great for two bouncing puppies. For just me and a little girl, not so much.
Well that didn’t last long blog family. I departed Manhattan for two months. Long enough by my standards. It’s my favorite place to hide. The intent of this page was always to be there anyways. I’ve enjoyed my time off the island as much as possible considering the hideous circumstances life slapped with me since.
Time to go back.
It’s been eight days since I was forced to say goodbye to Henry. I don’t feel better. I actually feel worse. It’s amazing how much you can cut life down when life cuts what you care about most away.
This is post 1,001. I used to imagine what 1,000 posts would be. If anyone told me it would have been numb verses poured to dilute the anguish of losing Henry, I probably would have abandoned these parts months ago.
I’m not happy. I can’t make myself happy. I’ve gone through houses and husbands and jobs until the cows come home in these parts. I’ve never lost anything to this caliber and there will be very few times in life that I ever do. Very few do I hold so dear.
Sure, there is an unconditional requirement to bear a particular regard for life. But then there are those you love. Above and beyond any other. That’s what Henry is.
Eventually I’ll sell myself out to the whole “Time heals all wounds” thing. I don’t put any faith behind these words whatsoever, but I like to consider myself a mindless mammal – same as the rest.
I must also mention my poor Peanut in all of this mess. She’s only been in the country for two months. She doesn’t really know where she is. She doesn’t know where her brother is, although she can tell he won’t be back. And she isn’t thrilled staying home alone every day.
It’s not that I’m unaware sooner or later I’ll snap out it. It’s just the requirement to do so is such a startling slap of how shallow life really and truly can get.
I’m going back to work today. I will wear a new dress, five inch stilettos and a fresh pair of nylons. When people ask me about Henry I’ll say things like, “It’s sad, sometimes these things happen,” and “Thank you for asking though…” I will sit at an enormous board table and talk in billions, pretend like my heart hasn’t finally permanently fractured.
Then I’ll probably duck into the bathroom to sob in increments I’m assuming will be in a rotating range of 30 to 45 minutes.
Over the past three days I walked Lily all over Queens. From Forest Hills to Astoria Park. We walked until my legs hurt. Yesterday we wandered for close to five hours.
A bottle of tequila and box of tissues later, needless to say, I don’t feel any better. At least I’ve gotten a lot of practice sucking back tears, because I’m trying not to break down in front of Peanut. It’s hard enough for her already.
Peanut has never been alone a single day of her life. Ever. Timothy will be at the house keeping her company today. It’s the best I can do to soften the blow.
My therapist pointed out that work is how I cope. Last year around this time, when I was reeling from divorce, I set my entire focus on landing a full-time Writer gig. In 2009, when my marriage was evidently dissolving, I put all my attention on getting to New York City.
I’m going to pick up some novels this week. I haven’t looked at them for some days. I need something to work on, somewhere to focus. Because when I look around, I still look for Henry.
Work, tissues, tequila. If anyone else knows any good coping mechanisms. I’m all (t)ears.