She came to visit, the Green Monster dormant in me, the one who roars when I see a couple together, hear about a friend’s plans with his/her spouse, know the weekend will be spent just the two of them. She came yesterday, and I am trying to get rid of her, but it is is hard to budge her. I think the Self-Pity gremlin and the Lonely beast hanging around me doesn’t helps. They do tend to run in a pack and feed off of each other.
Green Monster knocked for entrance about a half a day after Self-Pity and Lonely invaded my space. I think this triode of daemons came this week because I booked a trip to a place in Michigan, wanting to go on a safe get away, somewhere different, to finish my third novel. After I booked it, Self-Pity and Loneliness entered in, and with them, questions and truths like “why did you book something only to be alone there like you are here?”, and “New scenery, same loneliness”. This gave way to the reminders of other people on getaway weekends, other partners having plans, and it was all she needed. The Green Monster knocked to join and I allowed entry.
I should have deny entrance like one does to a vampire who needs permission to come in, because the Green Monster sucked every last logic out of me and left me dry and spent. Self-Pity and Lonely pushed thoughts into my brain of how my phone hadn’t lighten up with texts or phone calls in a few days. The secret powers of the three of them are knowing my vulnerability and invading me with insecurities and anger. It’s the anger which pisses me off the most. I am not that person, or I wasn’t until Peter died.
These three never came when Peter was alive. They knew I always had him. He was my fallback person, my I-always-have-him guy. I knew when friends got busy, when my phone didn’t light up, when life took over, when things exploded around me and I had to talk to someone, I had Peter. He was he person I went away with on weekends, or spent my days with, or made plans with. I always had him. Always, until always ended. Green Monster, Self-Pity and Loneliness smelt this on me like a dog on a scent of something to pounce, and pounce they did. They smelled my my most unguarded times, like when the days are long and are made longer by the absence of Peter, or things blow up in the world and it’s just me to take the shrapnel, or when there’s so much to say, but no one to say it to. These are the times these three freaks come a-knocking.
I know I am not alone in this world. I have my children, but their worlds are newer, different, than mine and sometimes, I am still aware of the divide of our dynamics, things left unshared because of my mom role, one I treasure above all else in life. And, yes, I have my friends, but they are not always available. They have their own lives. And, well, they can’t be, nor should they be, on my 24-hour beckon call. Once in a great while, I think my friends believe I am healed more than I am because it’s what I want them to see. I can’t always show them my pain because then it becomes too real to me. And honestly, sometimes, I can’t bring myself to reach out, too exhausted to name what I’m feeling. Besides, I know they are in the midst of their lives, their families, their work, their persons, and they can’t be at that minute for me. I get it and I didn’t care before, when I had Peter.
Today, as the sun shines in and I know newness is right in front of me. It’s a great time to start budging Green Monster, Self-Pity and Lonely out of my life, for now. They’ve stayed long enough. With their doubts of going away by myself still lingering in me, I am shoving at them. My understanding their presences is part of my next stage, my stage of what-next, my stage of what-now, in Widowhood, gives me more strength behind my push to get them out. Knowing I have moved past the unbearable grief I held for months, to the stage of standing on my own because I recognize I have to, gives me a renewed power. I want to scream to them and to anyone listening, this is what makes the death of the spouse so different – finding yourself without him while learning to live in your alone. And I will shove them out soon because I have to do this, because there has never been an Option B.