It was gray outside and pouring rain this morning when I woke up, and not much has changed the rest of the day. Pretty fitting for my mood, really.
I made a commitment to myself to try to write every day (allowing for the occasional break on Saturdays, when I will hopefully find myself doing something fun outside of the house). Even when I’m not writing here, I’m still trying to write, just for my own eyes. I guess writing every day is one more way to keep honoring and remembering and holding close my sweet daughter who I miss so much.
I haven’t felt much like writing the past two days. I’ve been trying to figure out why and the best explanation I can come up with is that I am just wallowing. I’ve just had it with the universe for the time being and am busy feeling sorry for myself, I guess. Doesn’t leave room for a lot of inspiration to write. And I kind of hate myself for that, the more I think about it. Certainly there is a time for wallowing in grief and a time for feeling sorry for myself, but sometimes I feel like just letting myself sink into it like this somehow dishonors Hudson’s beautiful spirit.
But these past two weeks have given me a run for my money. There were the major things. Our friend Neil’s death and memorial service. The three-month anniversary of Hudson’s death. My overwhelmingly sad day.
Then there were the minor things. Our gas being shut off due to an unidentified leak, leaving us without hot water for a weekend when we were having guests. The air conditioning breaking the same weekend. Having to pay three grand to replace the A/C. Getting the A/C replaced only to find the guy (who did a great job repairing our heat in the middle of February’s snowstorm) apparently has no clue what he’s doing, resulting in a giant leak and huge hole in the ceiling a few hours later.
And then there was today. I got a parking ticket while at a doctor’s appointment. DC has this new system where you can pay by phone. I had quarters ready, but the stupid meter wouldn’t take them. I had never done the pay-by-phone before and was in a hurry to get to the appointment, so was dialing the number as I walked away, not realizing I would need the car’s license plate number. I remembered it, though, so I just plugged it in. When I got finished with the appointment, however, there was that nasty pink ticket on the windshield. I looked at it and realized that in fact, I had misremembered the license plate number and since the meter guy didn’t have me in the system, it looked like I hadn’t paid. Even though I know I can get the ticket taken care of by showing that I paid, I still cried. When Ed and I talked about it, he said, “Sweetie, it’s OK. It’s just a parking ticket.” And I said, “I know. But it’s just this on top of everything else!” My brain is just shouting, “ENOUGH!”
Obviously, all of these little things are completely trivial compared to what we have been through. And as much as I know some of you will have the instinct, I am not looking for others to feel sorry for me (I’m doing a good job of that myself) or offer any words of encouragement. Really, I’m not. I’m just trying to figure out why I haven’t felt any motivation to write and this is what I came up with—I’m just sick and tired of all this damned bad luck. It feels like piling on and I’m just done.
The other alternative for why I don’t feel like writing is just as depressing. Sometimes there is just nothing more to say than the same few things I seem to say in every post: I miss her. I want her back. I can’t believe she is gone. I don’t understand why she is gone. It’s not fair. I want my old life back. There’s only so many different ways one can say these things.
I said in the beginning that I hoped to embrace Hudson’s message of One Good Thing, but that I knew that would be only part of this journey. It’s times like these, when it is so hard to see the One Good Thing, that the best I can do is just try to remember how fortunate I am to have a home, food, clothing, insurance, incredibly loving family and friends, and the most amazing husband I could imagine. I just have to keep telling myself that I am still lucky. Even when it doesn’t feel that way. Even though my little girl is gone. I just have to keep telling myself that.