Perfect Blue Buildings (Counting Crows)

Yesterday a friend said to me:  "I'm not sure I know how you are holding it together this week..." and I didn't respond.  But I've been thinking about it and, honestly, I'm not sure how either.  I am just doing what has to be done.  I am better when I am around people who don't know me, and I can pretend Everything. Is. Just. Fine.

Kind Words are my undoing.  My husband and I went to get flu shots today at our condo complex, and the two women staffing the table at the entrance were acquaintances.  And their faces went all soft and their voices turned sorrowful, and I burst into tears.  I was there to receive medical coverage for potential sickness, but what I really want/need is a Cloak of Invisibility.

I have prided myself on Being Present, reinforced when I was in Target the other day and saw this cup.  It had to come home with me, right?  Duh!

I said in a previous post that my husband's doctor (also a soccer friend) asked if we needed Xanax; we allowed him to write the prescription, and we filled it, but we haven't taken any (not to say that we won't).  I am not much of a drinker anymore, especially when I am alone (hello, genetic predisposition!), and I haven't imbibed since this happened; my last glass of wine might have been early-September, in South Carolina at my sister-in-law's for Family Dinner.  Alcohol doesn't really play a role in my life anymore.

All that to say... my college roommate Linda and her husband Craig are in town for our weekend gathering, and Chico and I wanted to take them out to dinner tonight, so we met up at the restaurant where our son Rob bartends (shameless plug).  And I was pretty sure I was going to have a pinot grigio... but I pivoted and ordered a dirty martini (my guilty pleasure) instead... with blue-cheese-stuffed olives (setting aside my vegan standards for the evening). And then I ordered another.  And the Counting Crows lyric kept running through my head:  "gonna get me a little oblivion, baby"... and, by god, I did (and, for those who might be wondering... yes, my husband drove us home).

All this is even more interesting because after Eric's DUI (December 2015), he embraced sobriety immediately and successfully... no slip, no blip, no setback.  

I was more than a little excited to immerse myself in some BWI (Blogging While Intoxicated) but, by the time I did a few things around the house, and checked Facebook, and sent a few e-mails... I was just buzzy (WTF, why are there no bee emojis here?!?).

When everyone leaves... when the dust settles... when the deadlines stop breathing down my neck... I am looking forward to being off the grid... falling off the radar... going MIA.  I plan to actively disappear for a few days.  No phone calls, no texting, no e-mails, no Facebook.  GTT, as one of Larry McMurtry's characters says (can't remember which novel) but, instead of Texas, I'll be Going To Therapy.  I had been searching, and found someone (before all this actually); in fact, my first appointment was scheduled for the Wednesday morning after Eric's Tuesday night accident.  Um, cancelled.  Fifty-minute hour (Dar), here I come... 😭

SONG:  Perfect Blue Buildings by Counting Crows

BOOK:  Your Grief, Your Way: A Year of Practical Guidance and Comfort After Loss by Shelby Forsythia

POEM:  Sonnets to Orpheus (excerpt) by Rainer Maria Rilke

Quiet friend who has come so far,

feel how your breathing makes more space around you.

Let this darkness be a bell tower and you the bell.

As you ring,

what batters you becomes your strength.

Move back and forth into the change.

What is it like, such intensity of pain?

If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.

In this uncontainable night,

be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses, the meaning discovered there.

And if the world has ceased to hear you, say to the silent earth: I flow.

To the rushing water, speak: I am.

QUOTE:  "Cure her of that.

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,

Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,

Raze out the written troubles of the brain,

And with some sweet oblivious antidote

Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff

Which weighs up the heart?" ~ William Shakespeare, Macbeth