Back for a Yes

On Saturday, Jennifer and I walked into a store and saw a bunch of flashy, sexy clothes displayed for New Year's Eve and other festivities. I liked a mini skirt, but told both Jennifer and myself that it was too short for me. Too "young" for me. I picked it up and put it back twice. Eventually, I actually tried it on with a black suede top, talking about how it wasn't right for me the entire time.

[the mini skirt]

[the top]

When I came out of the dressing room, Jennifer said it was the most fun thing she ever saw me wear. "It's too tight and too short," I mused. "I don't wear things like this." "I'm 30 now." "But where would I wear it?" The reasons not to buy it - or WEAR it- tumbled out easily.

I thought it looked good, but it was too sexy. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I don't have good fashion sense... but I don't typically wear "sexy" clothes.

I put the clothes back. We left the store and enjoyed the rest of our day. Truth be told, I thought about the outfit at least a few times later that day and the next day too.

So tonight, in the interest of Do One Thing Every Day That Scares You, while out Christmas shopping with my mom, I went back into the store and I bought the outfit. 

In fact, my mom talked me into buying this dress as well. "Too tight," I said. "Too short," I said. "Too revealing," I said (and to be fair, my boobs showed a hell of a lot more in the dress than the model's.)

"You never wear anything short," my mom said. "You're young," she said. The sales rep saw me telling my mom the reasons why I should not get it. "I think it looks great," she said. I wasn't sure I agreed, but I bought it anyway.

Today I took the advice of the book and said "Yes!" to something. Now I just need something to do for New Year's Eve.

Now

Nearly 7 months later, it's done. As the page in my new Do One Thing Every Day That Scares You book says, today was the day. 

Today I went through all of Rick's clothes, shoes, belts, ties... Today my mom and I packed it all up for donation. It's done. 

It was much better than I expected. 

With the exception of a bag I filled for my brother and a few things I kept, everything fit in 8 large bags. 

One of Rick's favorite sayings was "Do it now." It was always kind of like - when in doubt, do it now.  Almost 7 months and 8 bags later, it's done. And it actually feels great.

Rearranging

It's emotional and daunting trying to rearrange my house...because in doing so, I'm also rearranging my life.

I started with the cabinets...
I realized just how many things I use on a daily basis are on kitchen shelves that are much too high for me to reach. Rick always got a new roll of paper towels down from above the fridge. Rick always reached for the large salad bowl.

So I had to spend some time on a stool again rearranging my kitchen. I had to make it my own, because I'm on my own now.

Then there was the bathroom...

In a frenzy of surprisingly tear-less activity one day, I threw away his used items like his toothbrush, his razor, and a bar of soap. As each item hit the trash bin, my heart sunk farther down into my stomach... but all of this rearranging is necessary. Half-used toiletries can't stay around forever and they only made me sad.

I have not yet embarked upon the emotional journey of sorting through his clothes, shoes, belts, and ties. That's a task that I'll put off for a time until I've gotten through the mail, bills, and paperwork that needs immediate attention. I want to be able to feel each piece of fabric, kiss each tie, and smell my husband's cologne. I want to give time and attention, however emotional, to everything he wore. I rescued 2 dirty t-shirts from the laundry hamper the day after he died. They were the only two unwashed items in there and I couldn't bear to wash them or to throw my dirty clothes on top of them. The t-shirts are lying on a chair in my bedroom. Still unwashed. Just waiting.

Sometimes when I'm sad, I hold one and it smells like Rick is right there with me while I'm crying.

Then there's the living room...
Should I sit in his chair or mine?
I don't need his desk...
What should I keep and what should I give away?

It's all so devastating, so overwhelmingly laced with thought and worry.

The things around the house are easier to grieve through somehow. The medical bills, mail, and documentation is worse. Every day I come home to a stack of sympathy cards and a stack of mail addressed to Rick. Every day I call more companies to explain for the hundredth time that my husband is dead. It would be one thing if they were all caring, loving, sweet-tempered companies with little social workers like me answering the phones. But they're not.

I got a bill for $883 yesterday from Rick's pain management clinic. I called them today to explain the situation. He's dead. I haven't even paid for the funeral yet. I can't afford this right now. I have other outstanding bills too. This is not the only one. I need a payment plan.

The clinic wasn't even able to get me to a person in the billing department. They told me no one was available. But I need to get this done. I need this to be over. I need to put more things in my "done" pile than in my "to-do" pile. They couldn't help me and asked me to call back later.

I was on my lunch break at work, trying to get a call in since so many places have the same business hours as my work day. I hung up, slamming the phone down angrily 10 times in the process. Cue mini-meltdown with frustration and tears. Two of my co-workers had to come check on me, calm my crying, be good friends.

I'm not embarrassed of my grief, but I do hate making other people a) worry b) feel helpless c) feel uncomfortable. I also dislike getting emotional at work, because sometimes it's hard for me to turn off the grief bursts and get back to my professional self.

Tonight, I led my eating disorder support group for the first time since Rick died. It's important for me to get back in action, especially when it's for others. The women in my group are amazing as individuals and amazing as a group. The loss of Rick connects us even more, and it doesn't matter that I am their group leader. They care, they support me, they are eager to help ease my pain.

Rick would be proud. Of me, of them, of everything.

It's hard to come home at the end of the day, tears at the ready, so many tasks at hand. One thing is for certain - I have the best brother-in-law out there. Even from Florida, Rick's only brother gives me the moral support I need to push through the little moments that hurt so much. I know he understands the depth of this loss. I guess it's really true that misery loves company, because as strange as it sounds, I feel so much better knowing that his grief is on a level near my own. Whether he's cursing the companies who are billing me, giving me advice, trying to make this whole process easier, saying a kind word, or using humor to lighten the dark days, I am so thankful that he's only a text message away.

And Rick is thankful about that too. I feel it.

Paint It Black

"I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors any more, I want them to turn black..."

So it turns out the Rolling Stones knew exactly how I feel. Since the day Rick died, I have worn black every single day. Today it is exactly 2 weeks since he died...and I think maybe it's time I wore a different color. 

After Rick died, I found myself standing in my closet, unable to choose bright colored work clothes or even a white t-shirt. It just didn't feel right to wear something vibrant or colorful from my wardrobe when my heart was so black. There have been days I've attempted to choose something from my closet that was not black, but I just couldn't bring myself to put something on my body that didn't fit my mood. Wearing black felt right and I intended to do it as long as I desired. 

In truth, I still kind of want to wear black every day. It's awkward for me to think about putting on pink or blue or green when my husband is dead. But I found a way to ease into color again.

Today, I went to a salon and got a black gel manicure. My nails are a shiny, long-lasting black. And I think if I wear color to work tomorrow, I'll be okay. I'm going to keep my nails black for as long as I need. 

"I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door, I must have it painted black
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts
It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black"

For now, I'm coping the only way I know: there's a cat on my lap and golf on my TV.