I may in fact be dead inside
So the past couple of weeks have been hard and stressful in many ways, I’ve had to deal with a lot of personal loss, scary health moments and of course the text.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger right? And isn’t there a saying about bad things happening in 3’s? Well if that’s truly the case I should be stronger than a…whatever a really strong thing is, and not be due for another set of bad for years to come.
I don’t want to get into detail about the scary health thing but ladies (and gents) PLEASE make sure you are getting all your parts checked regularly and if something isn’t feeling quite right go and get yourself sorted out, even if you think “it’s probably nothing” or you think the the doctor is going to think you’re batshit crazy. I’m content with being batshit crazy as long as I know I’m going to be able to continue to be batshit crazy into my golden years.
Once that was sorted out there was a phone call that one of my long time friends had suddenly passed. He had been battling addiction and mental illness for years and though he was showing signs of recovery over the past few months the damage from the drugs and alcohol had already been done. I’ve lost a lot of friends in the past 5 years, many to cancer, some suicide, some just sudden freak accidents, it’s all the circle of life I suppose but it doesn’t get easier and it makes you want to hold everyone that much closer.
Things at my day job had also gotten a bit harried with a lot of change and stress inducing projects on the go. I started increasing my kickboxing schedule to try to release some of the angst and near the end of the week turned to the wine while I waited for Friday.
The weekend was quiet but had a blah kind of cloud hanging over it. I tried to infuse some positivity and fun into it with some vacation property hunting, a stop at one of our favorite milkshake joints and even a movie and family game night but despite all of my best efforts it was still blah.
Then there was a super scary visit to the nursing home on our Family Day that had me seeing all sorts of things I will never be able to unsee when I thought my Nana was dying right in front of me. She was talking one minute and then changed colors and slumped to one side in a matter of seconds. It was a whirlwind of activity as the boy booked it to the nurses station running back with a full medical team. As they pulled off clothing and checked vitals I stood in the middle of it she was still clutching my hand and I was holding a bucket for her while she vomited. Convinced she was having a stroke I asked the boy to go and make a call to Grandma to let her know we might have a problem.
The medical team got her comfortable, advised me that she was in fact NOT having a stroke and that they were going to put her in isolation and keep an eye on her. Phew, the relief was like a wave crashing over me. I felt like I had been through 9 rounds in the ring- everything hurt, my head was pounding and my ears were ringing.
I didn’t sleep that night and waited for word from the home that she was recovering. So far she’s improved, thank goodness, but is still in isolation. So there was a sigh of relief and life resumed as normal.
Until the text. For a few moments I thought I was reading it wrong, then, well I’ve already told that story. I again spent a very sleepless night partly staring at the ceiling, partly re-reading all of the texts from the past year analyzing every word (I’m an analyst, it’s what I do) and partly re-watching The Mindy Project on Netflix. There are some really uncanny similarities between Dr.Lahiri and I and sometimes I think the show could actually be about me, except for the doctor part, that’s one career I would NOT be well suited for.
It was a lot of unpleasant all in a short time period and I half expected to have a full on emotional breakdown but so far I’ve kept my shit together and not gotten emotional even once. Even as I write this, somewhat reliving the experiences of the past weeks there’s nothing.
Have I turned into a cold hearted sociopath? I’m pretty sure I took a Facebook quiz once that warned me of that very thing.
Is no longer having a single fuck to give a real thing? I am starting to think that I’ve reached my threshold of crap and I may actually be dead inside.
I haven’t shed a single tear. I’ve had a few moments when I thought maybe it was going to happen, a song caught me off guard and I felt my eyes get a little wetter than normal and I took a deep breath bracing for the waterworks but nothing happened. Even when my friend asked for an update on “the guy who’s been making me so happy” as we sipped wine at our regular catch up session, my nose tingled a bit and I felt my stomach tighten up but then still nothing.
Yet when they killed Rayna James off of Nashville I was a sobbing mess. Why would they do that, by the way? That show could have gone on forever.