Iconoclastic Fury

August 22, 2012

Y

Filed under: Uncategorized — by telechick @ 6:57 pm
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I have come to the realization that I am suffering from very low levels of testosterone. Not my own levels, but those around me. I am literally awash in a sea of estrogen. My 3 animals are female, my closest relatives are female, my closest coworkers are female, the friends I interact with on a regular basis are all female. There is nary a Y chromosome to be found amongst them and I miss it.
I realized this 10 days ago when I was on a backpacking trip with two college room mates and the husband of one of them. It was so nice to be around a guy, just hanging out, having him be chivalrous and for lack of a better word “manly”. I don’t want to come across as some helpless 50s housewife – I am fully capable of taking care of myself, as are my female friends and relatives, but it’s so nice every once in a while to feel taken care of in the way that good guys do. It was only after spending 3 days with John that I understood how much I’ve missed that feeling. Corey was so sick for the past 2 years that I haven’t experienced this care for a long while, but even while Corey was sick there was still his essential maleness and his presence. I loved burying my nose in the crook of his neck and inhaling his phermones. I was automatically soothed. When you’re in love with someone, there’s nothing better than the smell of their skin.
What I miss equally is being able to melt into Corey’s hugs. There’s no one I can do that with now. I hug my mother and I hug my friends, male and female, but these hugs are not the same. They are expressions of love, but I can’t relax fully into them and just let myself go, secure in the knowledge that, at least for a moment, his arms will keep all the bad things at bay.

I know that I’m in no emotional shape to date yet, but I do long for pair of strong arms to hold me and the phermones of someone I love to soothe my soul.

August 19, 2012

That old refrain

Filed under: Uncategorized — by telechick @ 12:12 pm

Last night I was driving home after having dinner with my mother and it was a beautiful evening. I had the windows open as I sang along at top volume to the Violent Femmes’ Blister in the Sun playing on the radio, being transported back to high school. It was a fun and relaxing moment, but then there was the thought “Corey is dead. I will never enjoy a moment like this with him again.”

I find this happening almost constantly.  No matter what I’m doing/seeing/experiencing there is always this underlying current or refrain in my head: Corey is gone. Corey is dead. We will never experience this moment together.  It doesn’t mean that I’m not enjoying what’s going on around me, it’s just there’s always the knowledge that I am not with him and that it will never be the same. It colours everything.

This past weekend I was in Idaho camping and hiking in the Sawtooth mountains with a college roommate and her husband and another college roommate. The scenery was spectacular, the hiking almost did me in and the company was wonderful, but at the same time there was always the underlying sadness for me.  My friend and her husband have been married for 13 years and have 4 beautiful children, something Corey and I never could have. Corey and I hiked a lot when we first met and he loved the mountains and was proud of his mountaineering skills. He would have loved this trip. I know people would say that he was with me in spirit, but as we all know all too well, it’s not the same.

I did find a black and bright orange bird feather in our camp and I have no idea what bird it could’ve come from. Orange was Corey’s favourite colour, so perhaps he was there with me.

–To everything there is a season And every blessing has its cost —

August 17, 2012

Who Am I?

Filed under: Uncategorized — by telechick @ 1:01 pm
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Everything I read and hear refers to this “new” and possibly “better” me that seems destined to appear out of Corey’s death.  I’m not really sure what people mean.  How exactly will I change?  What will be different?  I’m guessing that if I’m asking these questions it’s too soon at 3.5 months after his death and that the “new me” is still waiting somewhere in the wings.  I don’t feel like a different person – I just feel like the regular old me with a gigantic hole in my heart and a constant undertone of sadness.  I haven’t suddenly begun to like okra or country music.  I still get royally pissed and impatient at stupid stuff.  I don’t think I’m any kinder or gentler than I was before April 28th (which is to say, not very).

I was only with Corey for 8 yrs (to the day as it turned out) and during the last 2 of those Corey was mostly too ill or depressed to participate fully in our lives.  I paid all the bills; I ran our business as well as working full time at my real job; I organized the things that needed to be organized; I took care of the animals; I basically did it all.  This new Corey-free life isn’t much different than the old with the glaring absence of the primary reason I did everything – the hope that Corey would get better and that we would get back what was wonderful about our relationship and the reasons why I eloped with him 10 months after we met. Without him, I’m still doing all the exact same things, but only now because I have to.

I keep hearing that now that I’m widowed I have to get to know who I am again, my real self, but I feel like I already have a pretty good sense of who I am: strong, stubborn, determined, loyal, to name a few of my more positive (I guess) traits, plus a good dose of some not so positive ones. I am just not sure how this transformation will take place – do I wake up one morning and suddenly I’m different?  It would be really nice if the new me would exercise more and eat less and lose 20lb while she’s at it.  That’s a new me I’d love to wake up to, but so far she’s proving elusive.

August 8, 2012

100 days

Filed under: Uncategorized — by telechick @ 3:05 pm

Tomorrow marks 100 days since Corey died.  Presidents get 100 days to wow the nation and to prove they’ve got what it takes. I’m not sure how my first 100 days in the office of “widow” stack up.  Granted, I have an entire lifetime in this position now, not just 4-8 yrs.

I have accomplished a lot: I’ve moved; I’ve got our dream home almost ready to go on the market; I’ve sold or given away a lot of our junk; I’ve dealt with much (but by no means all) of the bureaucracy that surrounds death in the US – including getting my $255 survivor benefit from social security (not sure who came up with that amount); I’ve travelled 3 times without Corey, including an overseas trip to the UK where we were together exactly a year ago when everything seemed so good; I’ve planned a Christmas trip with my mother as a way to get through the holidays; I am slowly churning my way through the process of shutting down our company and finishing up outstanding contracts; I’ve begun exercising again; my puppy and I passed basic obedience. 

Not a bad list of accomplishments in 100 days, but at the same time I feel like I’m just going through the motions.  I am a stubborn perfectionist, so losing my shit and not plowing headfirst through my miles long to do list was never an option for me. Failure is not an option.  Corey had been sick or not really present in our life for the past 2 years, so in many ways functioning completely on my own isn’t anything different for me; but it is because now there is never the hope that the old Corey will surface even for a few hours to make dealing with all of the crap on my own worthwhile. Now it’s just crap I must deal with for the reward of not going to jail or not starving to death. Not the same at all.

Sometimes I feel like I’m not grieving enough, even though Corey’s absence is my constant shadow.  I can’t count how many times a day in the middle of some mundane task I will stop and mentally shake my head at the fact that Corey is dead, gone, never coming back, not just at the hospital waiting impatiently for me to visit. Intellectually I’m well aware of this, but emotionally it still delivers a hefty punch several times a day.

100 days in an office I never hoped to hold.

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