*Le Sigh*
I have a little bit of a sad today, and I'm just not exactly sure why. Part of it is that I'm overloading myself with this particular anniversary by watching the History channel all day today. I'm a little bit of a tragedy magpie (if that makes any kind of sense) in that instead of collecting shiny objects (though I do love a good shiny object!) I find myself wallowing in any given tragedy, collecting stories and anecdotes. I have this compulsive need to try to understand what cannot ever fully be understood. I did it with the OKC bombing, with the JonBenet Ramsey murder, with the West Memphis 3 (still a favorite cause), with Matthew Shephard and Harvey Milk, with WWII, and of course, 9/11. I read books and I watch movies and TV shows and read articles and just generally obsess and try try try try to comprehend it all. But I never do. And I never will. But you know what they say--"those who do not know history are doomed to repeat it." Yet for all of my obsessing, rarely do I fully let myself REALLY feel it. It's just too overwhelming to let it all in at once. I'll never forget how shaken I was after watching "United 93" in the movie theater. The entire audience just sat there through the credits, silent (save for some sniffling), absolutely unsure how to process what we had just experienced. I got up to go to the bathroom on my way out and nearly fainted in the stall. When it hit me, it hit me hard and my legs shook, my hands shook, and one of those god-awful silent sobs welled up in my chest. As for the real event, witnessing September 11, 2001 in real time, even all these miles away, I still can't grasp it. I remember thinking, "Plane...into...building? How is that possible?" Part of it was the Okie in me, so used to low, tornado-prepped buildings and wide-open skies. Part of it was the sheer shock of it all, of realizing our world would NEVER be the same again. Knowing that the current class of college freshmen don't really remember a world before 9/11 is unsettling to me. Then again, we didn't really understand tragedy at my age until April 19, 1995 (and I use the word "understand" VERY loosely). I suppose nearly every generation has their event, their "Pearl Harbor." But 9/11 was different, somehow. And while I can in NO WAY claim her as a friend or really even an acquaintance, I did lose a classmate at the Pentagon that day. I think of her smiling, gorgeous senior yearbook photo every year at this time. I think about my fellow classmates who were close to her. I try not to think about her last moments, I simply hope they were painless and somehow peaceful.
I'm also a little sad because I miss the DH. Our time apart is growing shorter each day, but it also seems to stretch on almost endlessly. In spite of my strength and fierce independence and contentment and distractions, I know I am not my complete self when he is not with me. Marrying him allowed me...it gave me the freedom...to become the woman I always wanted to be. And I will never be able to express to him my gratitude and unending love.
Luckily for me, I have wonderful kitties who give me loving snuggles and remind me that food still must be poured into their bowls every morning and fresh water must be added to their fountain. I have a lovely home with comfortable furniture where I may retire after a long day. I have a wonderful job that I really do love. I have loads of sick time and vacation days available if/when I need them. I have amazing, supportive, wonderful, generous friends who get me through the dark spots, even if they don't realize they're doing it. I have my Puma Bait for glorious flirtation with absolutely no-strings-attached. I have a fabulous, ever-evolving fashion sense and hot pink hair and some pretty damn cool tattoos. My bills are paid and there's food in the kitchen. My family is for the most part healthy and doing well, also. I have so very much to be grateful for and I am, every day.
But some days, the sad just catches up. Some days I just don't want to talk about it, because anyone to whom I would speak about it already knows exactly what I'm feeling, so there's no need. So some days, I just don't have the energy to keep the smile up. Some evenings, I just need to sit here on my sofa in Mutts pajama pants and a black sweatshirt, kitties purring contentedly nearby. Some days the laundry doesn't get done and the dishes don't get washed and I have pretzels and peanut butter for dinner, with Twizzlers for dessert. Some evenings, I just can't convince myself to do anything but sit here and watch TV and try not to think about anything but this moment. Right now. So that's what I do. And that's what I'm doing.
Sadly, but gratefully,
Lola
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Thought provoking. I, too, remember our classmate but on a completely different level. We became quite close in school...spent time at each others houses...grew apart after graduation. I remember hearing that she perished and being stricken with grief.
ReplyDeleteYou describe your relationship with DH exactly how I feel about my SLP.
We must find joy in the good things and strive to never forget the atrocities of life...we may not ever understand but we must remember and honor the victims' memories. WW II, OKC, Ruby Ridge, 9/11, all tragedies that have taught us something.