Handling It

Finally!

Yesterday was the first day that I felt as if my stated coping mechanisms were actually effective. I was beginning to worry that I would never feel OK again. A lot of sadness in the mornings, as always; but after thumping my head on my steering wheel a few times, I was able to go to the rec and have a long workout. I did not sit in my truck daydreaming today. I told myself, "Nope. Grab the briefcase... grab the sack lunch... open the door..." It worked.

I worked all day without any head-between-the-knees time.

Evening was very lonely. I felt the heartache creeping back, so I jumped up and:

*baked a rhubarb streusel cake with the last of my garden rhubarb;
*sorted out Nate's bookcase;
*did housework;
*read Harry Potter VII to Nate, employing all my best voices: Hagrid, Mad Eye, Voldemort ("You LIED, Ollivander!");
*did some data entry for Guadalupe.
*separated Girl Scout cookie orders - the ones for Snowbird, the ones for Guadalupe, the ones for the neighborhood (for a week or so, I'll be driving the cookie mobile). Sara should do this, I know. But she was at a course to certify as a basic-tier soccer referee, and I was in need of distraction.

By the time I got to bed, I was too pooped to be miserable.

Perhaps I might really be about to surface. Perhaps I mights actually get to gasp for breath and not drown after all. Good-bye, February! You will go down as the worst month I have ever had to get through.

Now I have to brace myself for what comes next. The adjectives have stopped flying and the sociolinguist has left the house, to be replaced by the discourse analyst. Talking, talking... unwinding, step by step... I test the placement of each foot before I place it. But I place it and continue inch forward to see if I can work my way through this maze. This is a different kind of pain, but horrible nonetheless.

If I can handle February, surely I can handle March.