The Waiting Game

I gave myself a paper cut while opening a box of donuts and I feel this says something about my life right now.

Saturday’s crisis had been made worse by the fact that my sense of humor went MIA. Usually I have the ability to see the funny alongside the bleak, and to poke fun at myself when my imagination goes to dark and melodramatic places.

Sunday morning I realized I have to die of natural causes, because asking Weird Al to live tweet a funeral after a suicide would be just a little TOO tacky.

(It doesn’t matter that Weird Al is more than 20 years older than me. The man is clearly going to outlive us all, just look at him.)

H didn’t officially check on me yesterday, but he did chat with me a couple of times, acting as if everything was completely normal, for which I felt pathetically grateful. It helped alleviate the fear that my friends might see me and treat me differently than they had before now that they knew.

A checked on me, officially, which wasn’t at all out of character for her, either. I was able to report that I was experiencing low levels of depression and anxiety, but that they were manageable.

We have melatonin on hand because of my older daughter’s sleep issues, so I took one around 9, and then at 9:30 started listening to relaxing music. It worked – I was out by 10.

Some of my sleep was better last night. At least until my husband came to bed. It sucks, but all the signs point to the primitive regions of my brain having classified him as an existential threat, something I should be avoiding or running away from.

Just having him nearby can elevate levels of stress and anxiety.

I know this state of things would hurt him if he knew.

This morning when I swung my feet out of bed and reached for the case with my glasses I knew he’d be watching me – that he’s constantly watching me these days, and that knowledge felt oppressive.

He’s using vacation time for the move, which will start next week. For now, he’s still working.

12 days to get through until there’s a tangible change to my circumstances.

I’ve had my coffee, and a donut. I’m writing, and listening to the newest songs I’ve added on spotify, just to make sure I still like them when I listen a second time. I’m sore, physically and emotionally, but I’m not feeling hopeless at the moment, and that’s the most important thing.

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