Just Okay

*Exhales*

I've pondered about what to write this week; the torrent of tears has slowed, the level of irritation has risen, and overall, I just didn't have anything nice to say.  Or anything interesting. I must be coming back to myself.

Still having trouble eating, and then digesting.  This is been the case since Christmas.   I'm working on it. I've cooked a handful of times, mostly out of guilt ---my poor husband. Half my brain knows I need to eat, the other half is utterly disinterested.

My digestive system may be in need of serious therapy, but I am seriously grateful for the nights of sleep I've gotten over the last week. Several nights' sleep have been really restorative. News worth conveying. For many, grief disrupts natural sleep cycles: the extreme fatigue can either cause a body to sleep too much or not enough. Over the past several years I have worked pretty hard at overcoming insomnia, but I am at its mercy now, at least for now. Even prescribed assistance is sometimes fruitless.

The four month anniversary of my father's death was okay. I did okay. I talked to my aunt, who also said she was okay. We both said, 'just okay.'  And then we went on to talk about our gardens. Hers is months ahead of mine due to the geographical difference in our locations. She has the most spectacular garden, and this year is being featured in a prominent event.    We talked about hydrangeas, that we love love LOVE the blue ones. The "endless summer" blue ones.   They're about three times as expensive here, where I live, as opposed to where she is.  I'm sticking to lilacs; I know they like my soil, and I love them. The bank of white, lavender and deep purple blooms make my day. My little Tinkerbell (dwarf pink lilac) is starting to bud out, drawing a little smirk from the right side of my mouth.

Will I mark the 13th of each month for the rest of my life? Maybe, but I don't want to hold myself hostage and each month's passing.  My dad wanted to be remembered, and I don't think I'll have any trouble forgetting him, so I hope the pain on the 13th of every month wanes as time passes.

I spent part of the day, as I always do, in yoga class, and then... I cooked!  Fellow fans of the Twilight saga were gathering for dinner and t-shirt making (to wear at the midnight premiere) and I took this opportunity to cook. I made my grandmother's red sauce, minus the meat.  My husband was gigging, and I pushed myself to get out of the house.  It was a good idea, focusing my energy on something creative.  Even at the risk of sounding pathetic, it feels more comfortable to stay home, in my sweats, under blankets, watching brainless TV---I don't have to pretend to feel social, be interested in anything, or care.

Tonight's another chance to get out of the house...I can tell you right now I don't want to go, so I"ll leave the house when my husband takes off for the gig.  Let's hear it for extrinsic motivation-- I'd be lost without it. I'd weigh 40 pounds without it.  Once I am with friends it's usually okay; sometimes I've had real fun. Sometimes it's a freaking chore because my mind is so distracted and my body is so out of whack. And their cheeriness becomes annoying. It's certainly not the fault of any of my friends! They're living their lives, doing their things, enjoying themselves. I'm just not yet up to their speed so I've given myself permission to leave when I poop out.

My natural inclination is to isolate---when things get stressful, sad, angry, out of control. This tendency is now my barometer. Even if I don't "feel" stressed, when I suddenly want to spend all my time alone, something is up. And it needs to examined.

The journey of self-awareness continues, and I keep going. It's okay. I'm just okay. I'll be okay.