Help!

And now my life has changed in oh so many ways. My independence seems to vanish in the haze. But every now and then I feel so insecure. I know that I just need you like I've never done before.

I recently started posting some of my most epic widow-esque moments and naming them as episodes of Widowed: A Shitstorm. It began on Christmas Eve when I, the genius that I am, thought it would be a good idea to wear Mark's favorite ugly sweater. He didn't refer to it as such, but ugly it was, and still is, seeing as it continues to exist in spite of his suicide. It turned out, though, that wearing that sweater was NOT a good idea. On the contrary, it was itchy and uncomfortable, and it wasn't nearly cool enough in San Diego to merit wearing yarn. But it made for a good laugh and, in my humble opinion, a funny post.

Since its inception, Widowed: A Shitstorm has run three more episodes...posts..., each of which has pertained in some shape or fashion to my lack of personal hygiene and general care of my body. This has led to the shocking discovery that I am basically a big child. I believe this affliction is one of the general side effects of widowhood, one of those that they try to warn you about but that you don't fully grasp until you find yourself sitting in your car dipping pre-cooked ravioli into a jar of sauce without a utensil, napkin, plate or care in the world about the people passing you by in the parking lot. To be fair, I've never been much of a chef, but when Mark was alive, I did weekly meal prep and never left the house without an entire day's worth of food. I had to, seeing as I used to also manage to spend 16+ hours/day out of the house jumping from work to a workout to volunteering to visiting with friends to a million other things. And all of that was after waking up around 5 a.m. to run at least a few miles "before starting the day". I was constantly in go mode. Though I got a lot done, I was also pretty uptight about it and couldn't relax on Sunday without feeling guilty for spending the majority of the day doing little to nothing. (Ya know, except for a Sunday Runday run, grocery shopping and meal prepping for the next busy week.)

Thankfully, the tables have turned. I like to think that I'm making up for all those years when I was uptight and in a race to get to a somewhere that doesn't exist. I've certainly learned to relax more, though I could easily credit that to my depression and PTSD. Given the ravioli incident, some might say I've let myself go a bit. Maybe a lot. Whatever your opinion, I'm not sure anybody would disagree that since Mark's suicide, I function at about the level of your typical, American pre-teen, mood swings and all. In some ways, I feel as if I've regressed. Whereas I used to be a high-functioning adult, I'm now happy if I remember to shower. If you don't believe me, read on for some of my finest examples. I hope you find this as entertaining as I do. 

1. The ravioli incident.

The End.

KIDDING! But seriously, that was a top moment, or maybe rock bottom. I'm just not sure.

2. "Oh yeah, lunch...I forgot." This is a daily occurrence, considering I haven't done any meal prep since before Mark died. I'm not even sure I can say that I 'forgot my lunch' so much as 'I'm too tired to think as far ahead as lunch'. I have my shake every morning, and if I forgot that, I'd know something was REALLY wrong. But prepping a lunch is asking too much. I usually stock up on snacks to keep at work, like protein bars, yogurt and fruit. I chow down on any baked goods and treats that find their way to the office. My roomy, Mama Connie, has packed me lunch a few times, bless her heart. It's not cheap to keep buying lunch, though I do love a good date with my work gals. Sometimes I just don't eat until I get home. I have to start managing this more now that I'm actually running and marathon training again, but it's proving to take a lot more thought and brain cells than I have energy for. 

3. Laundry. I have about a million reasons why I don't like doing laundry, but at the heart of my now teen-like behavior regarding this chore is that I no longer have someone else (Mark) to handle it. I didn't have to think about laundry too often when he was alive because he mostly got it done while I managed other things like food. Now I do it when I have to, though I regularly get to the point when I wear the underwear I don't really like but keep around just in case I need it for when I'm too lazy to wash all my dirty clothes. I also keep a basket on the floor next to my desk as an intentional holding place for the pile of "things that I wore but aren't really dirty" mixed with "things that I'm too lazy to put away even though I already folded and hung 90% of my clean clothes", plus a sweatshirt or two because you just never know when you'll need to grab a good sweatshirt, even in sunny San Diego, and it would take too much effort to have to open my closet and find one. 

4. My bedroom. Few people go in there. It basically looks like it belongs to a teenager. It's sort of a college dorm, minus the micro-fridge. Sometimes I leave only to eat or pee. 

5. The 2nd ravioli incident. I may have repeated it, minus the sauce.

6. Soap opera sobbing. I'm not sure it gets more childish than this because, if there's anything that adults are good at, it's working really hard to hide their emotions. *Note: We're not usually successful at ACTUALLY hiding them, just the trying part.* The widowed seem to be more in line with the pubescent with our similar I-don't-give-a-fuck-because-everything-is-terrible mentalities. I don't know anybody who would WANT to repeat the drama and emotions of their teenage years, but one way to avoid that is definitely by keeping your spouse alive as long as possible. Seriously, everything feels like the end of the world now. It's a soap opera, and sometimes I sob so hard I think I deserve an Oscar purely for dramatic effect. Think: Harry Potter when Cedric Diggory dies. 

7. I'm le tired. I could write a novel about my sleep issues and bad dreams, but sometimes I'm just tired. I get too tired to stand, so I sit. I've done this at Target a few times. Once I found a chair in the home decor section, but I've mostly sat on the floor. The vitamin aisle is generally pretty quiet. I discovered this magical spot once when I got too annoyed by all the happiness of the holidays about five months after Mark died. Nobody seemed to mind that I was crying. I once sat down in a Staples because I got too overwhelmed trying to choose from their excessive selection of binders. I was there so long that I didn't realize the store was closing until they started to turn the lights off. I've also sat down in a Ralph's grocery store. I don't know what I was intending to buy; I just know I got tired, and the toilet paper aisle seemed like a safe spot to park it for a few minutes. Sometimes life is too fucking hard, and I just don't care to always keep it together for the sake of others. So if you're ever in a San Diego Target and see some lady blubbering on the floor, it's probably me...or some heartbroken teenager... In either case, we both have no fucks left to give.

8. Hygiene. I brush my teeth every morning, unless I sometimes forget on the weekend when I don't have to be anywhere; I brush again most afternoons and most nights. I keep a lot of dental floss handy. I ALWAYS shower after a run, and if I don't have time for both, I don't run. (Or I cancel whatever other plans I might have that would interfere with my being able to manage both a run and a shower because, let's face it, I'd rather run by myself than socialize most days.) I put on clean socks every morning, even if I slept with socks on right after my shower the night before. I put on deodorant after a shower. My point is, I'm a generally clean person. But then sometimes I just forget to shower. The thing with forgetting is that you don't know you've forgotten until you remember that you've forgotten, and setting a reminder is moot because you'd have to know ahead of time that you were going to forget. I set LOTS of reminders, but this is the first time in my life that I might actually have to start setting reminders to shower. I didn't even need to be told when I was a smelly teenager, but it happens fairly often now. I'm coming out of a phase in which I stepped back from doing most things besides going to work, so whenever I add something new to my schedule, it tends to occupy all my energy. I managed to remember to pack clothes ahead of time so that I'd have them for an event after work yesterday, but I didn't remember to schedule time to shower, either before or after. Or get gas. Or bring snacks or lunch to work. I was so tired from the event, that I slept through my alarm this morning and was late for work. When I got to the office, I was stinky with greasy hair, an empty gas tank and no plans for food beyond my breakfast shake. I was hangry and exhausted by 10 a.m. Who has time to shower when hanger is involved?

9. Ravioli... I just really like ravioli and intensely dislike doing dishes, okay?

10. Greek yogurt makes everything a meal. Sometimes I eat a bag of tortilla chips with a cup of fat free, Greek yogurt and call it a meal because Greek yogurt has a lot of protein, which means the chips are more than a snack, right? I may have done this before Mark died, but I've now turned it into an art. Whenever I'm feeling bad about my lack of culinary skills and general desire to not ever have to cook or do dishes, I just add some Greek yogurt to my snack and BOOM, you've got a meal. It's like Surviving College 101: Ramen & Greek Yogurt. 

11. I forget everything. I think this is more geriatric than pubescent, but that's beside the point. And now I'm too tired to even go into how much I forget.

Whether you're widowed or not, I do hope you can relate to at least some of this and perhaps feel a bit less insane. Grief makes you a touch crazy, and life is challenging. I do believe that everybody loses their mind at some point. Maybe it comes back; maybe it doesn't. Maybe it does what mine seems to be doing and comes back as some sort of warped recording of a comedy routine muddled with soap opera scenes, ravioli commercials, and trailers for horror films. However it looks for you, please know that everybody is ridiculous at times. I even have a magnet that my brother once gave me as a gift as proof. On it is a quote from an 11-year old boy stating, "Remember, nobody is normal. Everybody is weird."

I mean, if your quote makes it onto a magnet, it must be right. 

Many thanks to those who keep me well fed and make sure I don't get too ridiculous. Particular thanks to my roomies for all the times you've brought my laundry upstairs. Endless thanks to my besty Shaela for even bothering to read my texts at this point; they're about as interesting as the crap I texted about when I first got a phone at 16. I'll probably text you in a minute, right before I go to bed because it's 8:30 and I'm exhausted. 

Disclaimer: I do actually take care of myself and work with my doctors. If you are feeling down and not doing well on your own, get help. It's okay to not be okay. It's okay to cry in public or forget to shower. It's even okay to eat entire packages of pre-cooked ravioli in your car. But it's also okay to ask for help.