u/oopswhat1974

Something got me thinking of the last thing he ate. It occurred to me that I had it in our text thread.

I had stopped at the market after work, the night before his surgery. He knew if he'd be fasting staring at midnight, he wanted to have something yummy beforehand! So I'd texted him asking what he wanted. He requested a "Thanksgiving" sub - turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and mayo. Also a slice of cheesecake (his fave). And he had a Coke Zero.

I won't post pics here but.

1. What person in their right mind puts a literal newborn. A baby that has been out of the womb for what, 2 months? In a fucking bikini in the sun?

2. I worry about the way her other 2 kids handle that child. Like a rag doll.

I had a dream last night that I met up with someone from my distant past.

We were having a picnic or something in a park - and when it came time to part ways, we kissed. And I was very aware in my dream that this was the first person I kissed following my husband's death - well really, since meeting my husband 14 years ago.

Woke up with this guy on my mind so I went to look him up online. First thing that came up was a GoFundMe for his wife and young son - he passed away earlier this year.

Just an odd dream and discovery.

When we first bought our house, we started out on a queen sized Aerobed. It did the trick for a couple of weeks until our new bed got delivered. We thought we'd go with a queen but ultimately decided on a king. "You'll never regret getting a king", everyone told us.

And for all those years since, we slept next to each other. We both run warm at night so it was nice to be able to have our "own" space, too.

In the nights immediately following his death, our daughter spent every night for probably 2 months sleeping in bed with me. It's probably what we both needed.

Once I was alone again, I kept to "my" side. "His" side remained relatively untouched (as has pretty much everything on his nightstand still).. I often slept curled up in a ball so far on my side it was almost like I was hanging off the edge.

As the weeks and months have passed, I've suddenly realized I am now sleeping in the middle of this giant king sized bed.

And I just feel... lost.

Oof. Where to start with this one.

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All of a sudden Muntz is a purveyor of "choline based vitamin drinks", otherwise known as "Smart Drinks". With names like "Mint Memory Blast" and "Cherry Brain Fuel" - c'mon, this HAS to mean that Muntz was likely in on the ground floor of some health and wellness MLM. Right? "Morton Muntz, Herbalife co-founder" has a certain ring to it don't you think?

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And I don't know about anyone else but I could have done just fine without hearing any talk of how many remaining ticks there are left in Cindy Walsh's biological clock.

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I'm sure there are a few more gems but that's what sticks out to me.

This will be a bit all over the place

Last night I went into the drawer of stuff he wore to the hospital. I pulled out his T-shirt and sat with it and cried. It's the same t-shirt he wore to his first surgery in 2020, and the same t-shirt he was wearing the night our daughter was born. Oh and also the t-shirt he had brought to the hospital to wear home. Somehow that one hurts more in a way. It's like one of the final decisions he ever had to make. "I'll just wear this shirt home". Fuck.

Yesterday I folded, organized and put away about 4 loads of my daughters laundry. And with her help, we got rid of a full contractor bag full of clothes that she's either outgrown or just doesn't like. There's a lot more work to be done but it feels like we've turned a bit of a corner. We've basically been living out of laundry baskets all over the floor in my room for the past few months. I know it was really bothering her. And I felt like I was failing her. But I guess I finally got to the point where in my mind I said "this isn't ok, I need to do better for her" and did something about it.

And today she thanked me. Out of the blue she came up to me, hugged me, and thanked me for all of the different ways I've been helping her lately. Which of course made me cry. It's felt like a bit of a breakthrough the last few days.

I also set up a payment plan for an IRS tax bill that resulted from some decisions we made before he went into the hospital (but that in hindsight, I am glad we did). I figured I can procrastinate on a lot of things but the IRS probably isn't one of them. I'll just pay them each month and I won't even think about it.

And then just when I feel like the fog is starting to lift... Here we are at 9 months this week. And then up next are Fathers Day and his birthday. The days that are all about him. And that seem harder than what we've gotten through already (my bday, our anniversary, Thanksgiving, Christmas etc). I'd have thought those would be the hard ones but I am dreading the next couple of weeks.

Went to turn on the front porch mini-split unit today. Wouldn't connect on the app. The batteries in the remote were completely dead. Let me rephrase that - they've been on the brink for months and I just didn't do anything about it. Thought about it, sure - but didn't do anything.

Today I changed the batteries.

I am realizing that grief is about so much more than the sadness of missing your person. It's about the weight of everything we do, day in and day out. Someone not going through what I am may laugh at the notion of this actually feeling like an accomplishment.

But I did the thing. I can check that box.

Now I'm going to sit down and try and pay some bills. The worst part is that they're not late because I don't have the money. They're just late because as much as I think about paying them, I just haven't gotten around to doing it. But I'm going to try and do it now.

Did anyone else catch the story she posted yesterday (not a "rill") about her aunt showing up, presumably unexpectedly, with no clothes, and needing to borrow/wear her stuff?

Anyone else scratching their head like "huh?"

I wasn't meant to do this alone.

I didn't sign up to do this alone.

Raising a kid. School. Activities. Taking care of myself. Taking care of the house/managing the household. And working a full time pretty demanding job on top of it all.

Today I needed to print something. And we are out of black ink. And I looked and all we have are Cyan and Magenta cartridges. Why????? He always took care of the printer. That was his thing. And now I can't print and it wasn't even super important what I was looking to print and now I feel fucking paralyzed.

He should be here. With me. With us. And he's not. And it hurts and it sucks and I need him.

Approaching 9 months.

I heard somebody say this today:

"Everybody says 'what can I do to help'

But theres nothing anyone can do because it's only you that can do it".

And as I try to be ok with getting rid of his clothes for a clothing drive this weekend (I'm not), and trying not to eat my way through the loneliness (not succeeding), and trying to figure out how in the HELL I am going to navigate half of a summer vacation with no camps booked while still having to work full time -

That is just resonating so much with me today. And it all sucks.

I have a group of people I grew up camping with since I was a kid. Some I know better than others, some more peripherally as more like acquaintances. As we've gotten older, one or 2 times a year everyone gets together, spouses, kids, etc. My husband and I would hang out with them, see various ones in and out of the gatherings, catch up, but we hadn't been particularly close with them.

So this weekend, I met up with them - everyone expressed their condolences, asked his my daughter and I were doing, and then the conversation naturally went back to "talking about the good old days" (as it does). Toward the end of the gathering as I'm leaving, one of the guys goes "hey when you're ready, I'll set you up with Bill" (not his real name). His logic was he's a good guy, we have this shared experience, already know each other (I'd say he's one of the peripheral ones). I politely told him I'm not ready, and that I don't know when or if I would be. And nothing was made of it.

But it's stuck with me. Not because I am thinking about it (I'm not) but because I feel like as time goes on, it may happen more often. And my heart is in a knot. Because I never wanted to be in this place where this is my reality. I shouldn't be a widow. My husband is supposed to still be here. But he's not, and now suddenly I am being "evaluated" (is she attractive? Worthy of so and so / someone he would like) and it feels icky.

So I did what I do every so often. I call his cellphone just to hear his outgoing message. And yes I know I could just record the sound of it, and that would be sensible. And that wouldn't involve me paying his cellphone bill for the past 8 months. But I dunno, there's something about the "reaching out to him" part.

Side note - I had all of the best intentions to be in bed early tonight. I am headed on a little "glamping" trip tomorrow, just me and my 9yr old daughter. Out first one without him. (She asked "who is going to light the campfire") I was technically in bed before 9 but scrolling. Which led me to dial his number.

Well like everything else in my life, I can never pay that on time either so when I dialed, it was disconnected. I panicked as I do. I went in the drawer, got out his phone, turned it on, and went into his email to get his Verizon account number. It wouldn't work so I had to manually enter his phone number.

I FORGOT HIS PHONE NUMBER.

When I dial him I always just go to his name in my contacts and call him that way. It's just one of those things I guess. So I managed to get it paid, the line is back connected, all is (as good as it gets for now).

Now the odd thing about his phone. My phone - I use it all day and it's always low on battery. His had been turned off since August 20 (aside from my intermittent turning it on to pay the Verizon bill, or check another account in his email etc) and I just today needed to charge it.

It struck me how much of a time capsule it is. He's got the pill reminder app in there - the last day he took his medication was August 19 (the day before his surgery). I am fascinated and saddened by the progression of his ChatGpt inquiries. They start off all related to LinkedIn. Resume improvements. Job search pointers. Then randomly he has a chat about Elvis Presley's performance of "Suspicious Minds" being the best live performance he's ever seen (online of course LOL). Stuff about TV shows we watched. General health and weight loss stuff. How long it takes to become a married deacon. Then he notes that when he went to the dr for a routine checkup, they heard a murmur. My breath caught reading that. Because the murmur is what ultimately led them to deciding to replace the heart valve he'd had replaced in 2020. And then screen captures of his medical records. Test results. My reading them and just visualizing who he was. Is. Like he's still here, even though I know he's not.

It's just so comforting to have his phone in my hand every so often.

And I am proud of myself - I just went around the house and cleaned all the air filters in our mini split units. That was always a "him" thing and honestly I probably wouldn't have even thought of it except I'd been coughing like crazy and realized that was probably why.

So pat on the back for me.

Also I had a chat with my mother in law last night (well, we talk every day just about) and I mentioned I'd probably put together some of his clothes to donate for a clothing drive next week). She agreed it might be a good idea, and also I can definitely use the room in the closet.

I can do hard things.

Omg following the last problematic episode. Jesse and Andrea vow to not see each other during exams. Donna and Andrea go to Andrea's dorm. The door is slightly open, which would alarm anyone but she just pauses for a second then is like "huh I must have left the door open". They proceed to walk in and Jesse pops out from behind the door with an overly emphatic and altogether not uncreepy "HOLA SENORITA! ¿QUÉ TAL?"

And instead of being like "how the hell did you get in here" they go all mushy kissy face right in front of Donna and she's like 🫣👀

I think I need to take a hiatus for a while lol

S4, E15 "Somewhere In the World it's Christmas"

I am up to this episode and as I'm watching it I'm going "have I ever seen this before?" And honestly it was one of the most boring poorly acted/poorly written episodes ever. In no particular order:

The Walshes are headed to Hawaii. And I never remembered them actually being IN Hawaii so I was confused. And as they're getting ready to head off to the airport on what presumably is Christmas Eve, Andrea shows up to ask Brandon about what happens at Christmas Eve mass. And I'm like, why wouldn't she call him on the phone? At least to go "hey I'm thinking of stopping by on a major holiday, wondering if you're around?" And after he informs her that he's Presbyterian and how would he know what happens at a Catholic mass, they are saved by the bell and the airport shuttle arrives.

Cut to the beach apartment. David is dressed like Don Johnson circa Miami Vice and heads off to his dad's for Christmas Eve festivities, leaving Kelly and Donna behind. There's mistletoe, and Dylan and Donna share a "longer than would be appropriate seeing how he's dating your best friend" kiss under the portable mistletoe - more than one, actually - and I officially have the heebie-jeebies.

Then Andrea shows up dressed like the Church Lady from Saturday Night Live, all ready for Mass. In her defense, I guess it's not like back then she could Google "what to wear to a Catholic Christmas Eve mass", right? But it's bad, and she and Jesse are in luuuuurve and do we think this was the night that Hannah Zuckerman Vasquez was conceived?

Anyway. We're back on the plane, and the pilot is talking about turbulence, and Brandon continues to highlight passages in his textbook, and then they turn around and head back and all the while, the pilot is using his calmest "Phone calls with Delilah" voice to tell the passengers to be prepared if they need to do a water landing or land with no landing gear. We see the Walshes each say their silent Presbyterian prayers that they'll make it out alive, and they have a successful landing back on the mainland. Phew.

And that leaves us with Suzanne and Erica showing up on Dylan's doorstep. Which can only mean one thing - it's almost time for me to skip over a copious amount of episodes because I can't STAND this storyline. But I couldn't remember when they actually appear. And now I know.

And why is there literally awful soap opera music playing over so many scenes in this episode?

Lots of snarkability on this one. Unfortunately the watchability factor is close to zero.

So first, I took a giant step for my well being today only to have it smashed to bits. I talked to my Dr about finally going on a GLP-1 as I've gained entirely too much weight since my husband died. We talked about it, she prescribed it, I lamented to friends about how expensive it was and one of them told me about the Lilly prescription card. So I signed up, all excited when I got to the pharmacy right? It's MY turn to finally have a glow up like everyone else I know who has had success with it. And the discount didn't work, so I left empty handed and defeated. Nothing's ever easy for me.

While I was there, I remembered I had to get a wedding shower card for a shower I am attending tomorrow. Boyyyyy that stung. I am truly happy for the couple getting married (obviously), it's my nephew (by marriage) and his wonderful fiancee. But I was not ready for the barrage of emotion that hit me in the face right there in the card aisle looking at all of the "happily ever after" sentiments on those cards. So I picked one through my tears, and by then they were FALLING. I paid for the card, ran to my car and heard the biggest most childish sounding loud wail just escape from my body. It felt like such a release but also a reminder that this just sucks. Like I said earlier this week - everything is hard and just made that much harder these days.

Every already difficult moment or challenge, no matter how trivial, is just exacerbated by his being gone.

I'm sitting here on this beautiful evening watching my daughter play her sport of choice, and I am hiding behind my sunglasses (albeit not successfully) trying not to just break down crying over everything.

The group of moms sitting next to me (who I am peripherally friendly with) are swooning over a purse that one of their husbands bought as a Mother's Day gift.

My kid is down on herself because the coach of the team for her age suggested she needs more practice so has her practicing with the younger team (which, I thought that's what practice was for, not to be cutthroat competitive in the 3rd grade.

I've reached a weight where I am so disgusted with myself that I refuse to even have my picture taken anymore.

I'm actively avoiding conversation right now because I KNOW the second I say anything to anyone I'll either break down crying or start questioning the coach or who knows.

AND my husband is dead.

And completely out of the blue.

I hold it together, hold it together, hold it together.

"I don't know how you do it".

"You're so strong".

"You're amazing".

No, really, I'm not. Want to know how I know?

Because I just sat down with my daughter's therapist (I usually do a quick 10 min pre session before my daughter goes in to brief her on any recent events, issues challenges etc) and broke down crying. This cry wasn't "because" my husband died. But "because" life is just hard BECAUSE he died. If that makes sense. When she suggested she is typically an acute therapy resource and my daughter could probably benefit from something long term I cried again. Because it's just ANOTHER THING.

Because I know I need to talk to someone for myself and again - I'm not sure exactly when I am expected to a) have the time to set that up and b) have the time to actually go to therapy.

Because I still have 4 baskets of clean half folded laundry in my room.

Because I walked around the house with a giant contractor bag to get rid of "stuff". I filled it, threw the bag in the trash, and looked around the house - and it looks the same.

Because I find myself getting more disorganized as the days go on.

But sure, I guess the fact that my daughter is (generally) thriving, involved, smart, healthy, clean and fed, and I can generally function, be productive at work, engage with my daughter... I suppose given the circumstances I am doing "not bad".