Yesterday, I was going to post something short and sweet about the essays I'm in the middle of writing, and the essays I wish I had time to start writing, but I instead decided to throw up my breakfast in the bathroom, cry for about 30-40 minutes, and exit the office. At about 11:30, I practically sprinted for the 7 train.
I didn't know exactly why I was feeling so sick, except for the stress of everything weighing me down, as it has for so long. I chalked up my physical and emotional breakdown to cumulative stress.
I exited Grand Central Station in Midtown and began aimlessly wandering, thinking vaguely about the shop windows, knowing I ought to head to the clinic for a quick blood test to look at my iron levels (my fatigue has been heavier than usual lately), and then head to church, which often helps clear my head. I felt somehow that it just wasn't quite time for that yet.
Shortly after noon, the vague something I was waiting for materialized. My mother called. My other grandmother, my Dad's Mom, had passed away. "Did this happen just this morning?" Mom confirmed that it had.
I'm not devastated with sadness like I was with my other Grandma, but I am feeling a wide range of emotions, and grief is included. Today, I await another phone call, from my Dad, telling me when to head for the airport. The funeral is in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where Grandma will be buried next to my Grandpa, who passed away almost 30 years ago.
How many of us expect to live 30 years as a widow (widower)?
I will have a lot to say when I get back. I have a lot to say now. Will I get the chance to write any of it out? I'd damn well better. I am really, frankly, sick of seeing days and days go by without me getting a chance to simply talk about how I really feel.
No wonder I threw up yesterday. I exited my external life in a huff.
After we got off the phone, I went to the clinic and had a simple blood test. No biggie. If the iron levels are low, I go back on the supplements. If they're fine, great. I'm looking into counseling.
I didn't go to church. Instead I had a manicure. Physical self-care won out over... what?
I feel that I'm being pushed and shoved through life, over the last two years. Not gently led. Not lovingly carried. I am NOT seeing any footprints in the sand here. I can't exactly say I feel abandoned.... More like tested. I am being tested for something. I have tried so hard to take steps here and there to improve my overall life circumstances, but those steps have led me into even deeper, wilder, more treacherous waters. I'm not drowning at all - but this is one hell of a long, difficult swim. Yesterday, I just quit paddling.
I think right now maybe I'll float for a few days.
I haven't seen my paternal Grandma in over two years. I virtually never see or communicate with most of my Dad's family. Another challenge. Another deep, cold, pool to swim through.
At least, after the funeral experience, if I can just get through it, I'll wake up in Cancun.