I am not accustomed to angry, irritable grief. It’s visited a few times but lately, that’s the emotion that has taken up residence. I’m not a pure joy to be around. Imagine that. Covid-19 has been, if not solely responsible, at least partly so. Because I am sick of it. I know everyone else is, too. But right now I don’t care how anyone else feels about it. I just want my two minutes to complain.
It feels as if I am a bumper car running into obstacles in a limited space and I’ve just run out of walls to crash into and I want to have a tantrum. I want to scream, “Let me out!”
In the past, the holidays have made me more melancholy and catatonic. But I”m pissed off that even in a pandemic, they had the audacity to invade my life yet again. Typically, I have had more anticipatory dread of them since Charles’s death. But this year, it’s like they snuck in through a cracked window when I wasn’t looking. Maybe that’s because I wasn’t out as much and stores didn’t stock Christmas stuff in August this year. I had no warning.
I am sick of the terms, pivot, and virtually. I am tired of changing my dog’s diapers. (Yep, our senior dog, Charles’s dog, is failing and that’s not helping either.) I am sick of my house and the same walls and I love this house and neighborhood. It’s a great neighborhood. The neighborhood didn’t do anything to make me mad at it either. Neither did the house.
Mostly, I miss my kids. The one who died. And the one who lives in LA. And now I am unreasonably mad at everyone who was all polly positive about saying how I can hop on a plane to visit my oldest son in California. Hardly an easy thing to do right now. Richard will be here in a month, though.
The hardest part is the helplessness. Already at this time of year, that emotion holds me hostage, reminding me that my youngest child won’t sit in that empty chair. There is far too much I can’t do a darn thing about. And I just have to let that go.
I know I am lucky and blessed in so many ways but if you tell me that right now I might implode. I want freedom back. I want to travel and go to California when I want to. I want to hike on my go-to trail by the James River but it’s underwater right now. No finding solace there.
It’s a good thing that emotions are temporary. I know my husband thinks so, too.
I have to work on this mood today. My walking buddy Emily can always tell when I am struggling or irritable because I walk really fast and she has to skip to keep up. The power walk will help. And by the time I hit publish, writing this will have helped me work through this, too. So this post is my way of ushering them out.