Way to Pull Me out of My Own Head

Yesterday was a tough day for me.

I knew that, with my move, I would eventually need to venture into the storage closet and take out all of my Chris-mementos. I had managed to avoid the task for the past three weeks, but with time running out, I needed to face my demons.

Controlling my tears was not an option, for they flowed like flood waters out of my eyes and onto my carpet, as I laid eyes on possessions I hadn’t looked at since the anniversary of our 1st wedding anniversary.

I moved my hand toward one of the boxes, accidentally knocking its cover off and there, exposed, was the picture of Chris I hate most of all. He sits at the table with no shirt on, head down, writing in his calendar book, completely bald. I hate that depiction of him. That photo gets behind me and shoves me out of my denial with the force of the impact of an eighteen-wheeler striking me from behind. I lost my breath and then I lost my ability to maintain my composure.

I then came across tapes and tapes of documentaries that Chris made while he was in school. I entered a meltdown, crying and screaming, “I don’t want these anymore! I don’t want these!” I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want them and I didn’t want to discard them as though they held no meaning for me, when they always will. I felt trapped.

The two events winded me so that I could no longer see how I was going to take the drive to the Salvation Army with my donations. I only had forty-five minutes to get there and I couldn’t reign the grief back in. I decided to push.

I ran up and down my five flights of stairs five times, carrying arms full of worthy provisions for those who can benefit. I backed my car into the driveway and began loading, using strength derived from all of the anger I continue to suppress. Anger does come in handy. I managed to squeeze boxes, bags and an entire vanity, complete with mirror and bench into my tiny, yet magnificent Pontiac Sunfire. Go Arthur (That’s his name.)!

I continued to choke back tears all the way and when I got there, I pulled up to the front door, turned on my hazard lights and began to unload when a woman began yelling at me for parking there, saying that I was endangering lives. Sigh. I looked at her and very calmly said, “I’ll be out of here in a minute.” My resign softened the blow I would have delivered in her direction.

I began loading my stuff into the building, when a man in his 60s came over and said, “I was looking at your pictures. I hope you don’t mind," to which I replied, “Of course not! Would you like them?” His face beamed and after making certain I was okay with him taking them, he thanked me and went on his way.”

So I donated clothing, furniture and other household items and managed to save this man the price of having to buy my pictures, which sent him off with a smile on his face.

How could I not smile, myself?

When I returned home, I called Bonnie to chat for a while. I mentioned to her that I had been considering leaving Chris’ tapes “on the curb” and asked her if she wanted me to hold onto them, instead. She did. So I did. Sometimes, taking the feelings of others into consideration is the way out of my own feelings.

Now I can’t even remember why I didn’t want to take them with me.

Shneed