Clawing My Way Out and Up

I’m forcing myself to feel tonight. Since I moved into this apartment, since moving out of the apartment I shared with Chris, I have been running, running, running. I suppose that’s not really a bad thing. I guess it depends on the type of running. I have been running a w a y.

I have been coming home for short spurts and running back out again before I have a chance to think about any of it. There is a reality I am still not able to face. I can feel myself denying so much of it each day. Saying the “d” word and Chris’ name in the same sentence is very scary to me.

In some ways I have been bounced back to the beginning when I first realized that not only didn’t I want to live my life without Chris in it, but that I would also be living alone, something I had counted on never having to do again. As a result, moving into this new place has caused me to flash back to the way I felt when he was first gone. I’m scared a lot. I’m sad a lot. And the fog has returned partially, although not to the same thickness as when I first felt it. I’m finding that my thoughts are cluttered and scattered and if I’m not doing something, I’m unable to sit still and relax. The only time I’m able to be completely grief-free is when I am singing. Singing takes it all away.

I wish I could talk this all over with Chris. He would have known what to say. Knowing somebody as well as I knew him and having him know me as well as he did is my favorite thing in this world.

Today, as I was walking through the Esplanade, I had a very profound thought. I had been listening to my voice lesson on my headphones, formulating my next improvement. Being completely focused on my performance and how to better it, I was not thinking about Chris at all. When I finally removed the headphones and put them into my bag, I returned to the here and now. I thought of Chris and smiled. Then I thought, “This is how it will happen. It’s okay to think of him less, in fact it’s probably healthy. As I move forward, I’ll probably think of him less, but when I do think of him, I’ll smile. That’s better than thinking about him all the time and crying. That’s the way to honor him.”

I’m forcing myself to feel tonight. That means I’m forcing myself to sit on the sofa quietly, not moving, not speaking, no TV, no radio. It means I’m forcing myself to be with myself, to feel the solitude, to b r e a t h e and to entertain the idea of getting used to...

I still can’t say it.

Shneed