my hands are shaking badly today. i’m sure the coffee this morning has something to do with it, as does my giddiness about being alone, and the lack of sleep, let alone the white wine from last night that is still coursing through my veins. today i held off till 5:30 pm, despite the never-ending freefall of my stomach and the overwhelming fear of venturing outdoors and the prospect of more despair, confusion, hopelessness and exhaustion. i’m proud of holding out that long at least. being alone has given me structure and meaning, ironically. i know it’s just one day and that it is fairly normal for most people, but not for me. i was motivated to clean the whole house, throwing away things i decided i didn’t want, packing some things that i didn’t want to see away, taking leftovers to the charity bin. all in all, three bags of trash and four rounds of the dyson later, i feel a little bit better sitting in here. then i took myself to the bookstore and looked for things that i have been wanting to read. it was quiet and cool and empty in the store, despite the sunny saturday weather. i was so happy to be there, strolling through all the aisles and looking at all the titles. i bought myself a paper day planner, to record upcoming appointments and keep a daily diary of important events (like holding off till 5:30). I feel good about this planner. i am not sure what tomorrow will bring. i am scared, but at the same time, i am trying to stay in the present, moving from minute to minute, deciding only what i will be doing in the next 30 minutes, 1 hour, 2 hours. letting go of everything beyond that and everything behind that is oddly freeing, but still scary.
Guilt.
The diamond earrings he bought for me even when we had been fighting so much. The ones he gave me all wrapped up in a beautiful package on our anniversary
even though we had been fighting that very day. The fact that I had nothing to give him.
The trip he had secretly been planning for my birthday after we had a fight about an indiscreet and inappropriate and wrong email that I denied and that he felt bad for being mad at me about.
The birthday weekend he had been working on for me in New York or anywhere with the Marriott rewards. All secretly done so it would be a surprise for me
because I always berated him for not doing something special for my birthday.
All the times that I wouldn’t have sex with him when all he wanted was to be loved by me and felt cared for but never once said anything about it.
All the times that I wasn’t home at night or left him watching TV while I went out and he spent time with my dog. All the times I went to New York to see my friend
while he stayed home with my dog and waited till I got home.
All the little messages and emails and Facebooks that he sent me, saying he loved me or sending me plans for dinner, while I got mad at him for bothering me or for
not letting me pick the Netflix movies.
The way and amount that he loves me still today and I cannot seem to return in kind.
as i trudge up the stairs with the box, my secret sins esconced inside, the smell of home-baked goodies, of all things motherly and wifely, of all things good and holy, of all sweet things, the memory of the bakery in the city, one a security net and the other a trap. but both so sweet.
