Into the Blue Distance
A little better today. There are other things with which to occupy the mind, work things and conversations with friends. I begin to think, too, about what's next: I have to make career decisions, and flowing from those, still more decisions about where to live, what to do with the house that once was home; and so I need all my energy for that work.
The real problem is at night, when the house is quiet and I am alone with my thoughts and the spirits. Walking in to the office today my neighbor, after asking how I was doing (my face has reflected all this, apparently), went on to ask "What do you do at night, how do you get through?" Then, seeing the expression on my face, she was immediately contrite: "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...."
Part of my unease was that my answer was so pathetic: I stop at the grocery and get something to eat that requires minimal preparation, then rent a couple of movies and go home and eat in front of the TV. If the weather is good I'll walk downtown to Starbucks with my novel and a cookie, leaving dinner until later. Last night I edited the pictures of our trip, getting them ready to send to her as promised; that was a sad enterprise, indeed. On Tuesdays, symphony rehearsal; and when I have the energy, I rehearse that music. I go out to dinner with a friend or family once or twice a week. I do laundry or straighten out the mess I've left since last weekend (my suitcase is still in the living room, near the front door, and the mail is on the floor--just don't have the will to deal with it right now). Say prayers. Go to bed. At least I'm sleeping a little better.
Sounds about as depressing as it really is, doesn't it? The only thing that keeps me on the right side of the sanity line is that I know this will pass and my old accustomed optimism will eventually come back.
And tomorrow is another day.
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