Drifting helplessly

Sunday, August 28

Where my mind wanders a bit...a lot...some...too much.

I have been looking back at pictures this morning and wince at times seeing his face from the "before", knowing that in a noticeably brief time, time we had no comprehension of being over that fast, that that once happy smile would be gone. Along with it, so would mine.

Then I start seeing the pictures from when we were in "it". I start seeing where the weight of the new reality had set in for both of us. I see goofy pictures I had taken of myself from when I am trying for optimism.

I also see the ones I took of myself where I had lost my shit and memorialized it. 

Then I catch a brief glimpse of myself in the mirror in this "now" and cringe. 

Why I am punishing myself is unclear, but I liken it to self-flagellation. I need to find a way to renew my confidence.

Who are you? 

I do not feel like me, but then I do not know who me is anymore. 

So, how do I know that I don't feel like me? 

Something is just off. I look like me, yet I also look so tired. Laughing feels fake, smiling feels forced, I look empty. 

Those moments I feel a little thrill of joy? I feel I should suppress it. Probably because it feels good and maybe I should not be feeling like that, dumb as that may sound.

I had a long chat with my mum on Friday after a long work week. I had expressed how lonely it all is. I do not NEED someone here twenty-four hours a day but having had someone there to talk to every day and then suddenly not be there sure is an adjustment. 

I do talk to him, though. Aloud. Everywhere, walking through a store behind my face mask that I still wear, driving down the road, cooking dinner...half out loud, sometimes just under my breath to myself. Some of it just internally. 

'You would die laughing if you saw <insert whatever I was seeing that gave me a laugh>' or 'Can you believe <whatever it was that was puzzling or startling, etc.>', or 'Brandon, how the fuck do I do this <usually house stuff or car stuff or motorcycle stuff or navigating the mounds of paperwork from "after">' 

Those dialogues throw me off here and there. 

'Hi, I'm talking to a dead person', half expecting him to answer, half hoping he would answer and other parts thinking I would freak out if anyone answered. 

Part of me feels like I am a crazy person for having those chats. Maybe I am...  Although, I do not suppose they are out of the ordinary considering the situation. Other parts of me want someone to say, 'Excuse me? you okay?' 

At that, though, I would feel pretty dumb. 

I hate that stuff around us, locally and nationwide has changed and he was not here to experience it, too. He is not here for me to talk about it, hence me lamenting on life and the afterwards where I feel like I am drifting helplessly. 

Today I am just trying to focus, because I think I have been floating along on this crazy in slow motion ride.

I joined yet another group of folks online who are going through the same thing - loss, but with their own definitions of grief. 

It has helped me to see I may not actually be a nutcase, but still does not lessen the fact that I am all alone in a boat with no sail right now. 

If anybody is out there, please tell me, someday, some way, somehow...? It'll all be all right.