I recently sent myself an invitation to “vacation” in this new, appealing place called “RECOVERY”. It had been recommended/strongly suggested to me by my “travelagent”/therapist. I was sure to include the bright and sunny brochures, given to me by my “travelagent”/therapist….this place sounded AMAZING. It promised bright, sun-dappled relief from intrusive thoughts, and handy tools to help me learn how to talk back to those thoughts. to challenge them. And the brochures explained there would be lots of others like me (?) enjoying the positive vibes emanating from the gorgeous, restful environment.
That’s a pretty tall order! I’ve traveled to similar places in my life, but have yet to discover a locale that lives up to the hype. AND…I’ve dealt with a LOT of different “travelagents”/therapists during my life. I really think this one GETS ME. I mean, for REAL.
So, I think I might take myself up on the “invitation.” God knows I NEED a vacation. I’m so tired. It’s been quite a while. It stinks that Joe is dead. we had so many plans. he would want me to visit this new place, I know. he was always urging me to experience new places and things. I can hear him now, telling me to get it together. he wasn’t one for niceties. you always knew where you stood with Joe. he didn’t put up with any shit, that’s for sure. I learned quickly that it was in my best interests to make things go as smoothly as possible, whenever I could. Patience wasn’t his strong suit.
But oh how he loved! with every cell in his body – that’s how. when you were lucky enough to be loved by him, it was a FORCE. A merciless, reckless storm full of squalls. I was used to his love; the way he showed it. he didn’t tell me. it was up to me to NOTICE his love. he did things like put my favorite grocery items on the top shelf of the refrigerator, so I wouldn’t have to bend to get them. this said he loved me. he would stop and bring me my favorite coffee, whenever he was on his way home. this said he loved me. he did stuff like this a lot, and was always eager to please me.
Unless I fucked up.
he couldn’t abide my eating disorder. he didn’t understand why I couldn’t just EAT. he never bothered to read ANYTHING I gave him about the ED. he never asked me about anything. he wasn’t interested. he just wanted me to “let it go.” I tried so hard to explain it to him, but he always got angry. I was “choosing” the ED, in his opinion. I could just CHOOSE to let it go, according to him. all you readers that understand EDs know how completely impossible that is. I won’t even bother to talk about it here. if you’re reading this, you probably understand.
so….now I’m alone. the only opinion that matters with respect to this “vacation” is mine. it’s scary, being alone…but also very LIBERATING. it’s up to me and only me.
I need to think.
I’m sorry. Grief seems to be a hugely complicated thing. I wish you ease. Go on the vacation. Don’t think. Sometimes, thinking is good. I have impulsed my way to a great many bad decisions. Don’t overanalyze it too much. It’s not going to be perfect. But, it’s hope. I like hope. I will look for some today
my grief is a living thing that changes from day to day, or moment by moment sometimes. I’d like to talk about my grief with you privately.