Tuesday, February 8, 2011

On Something That is Now Missing

I'm going to admit up front that this wont be a particularly happy post.

It's honest.

Beckie, giving up her time and money, flew to Boston on Sunday. Giving up a little time and money of my own, I drove to Boston to meet her there. All for the purpose of sending Sadie back to Columbia to be with Mom and Dad.

This, you all know. You also know that this has left me overwhelmed with unhappy feelings.

Doubt, grief, frustration, resentment, guilt - just to name a few.

Those emotions are now joined by two others.

Loneliness and emptiness.

I knew it was going to be hard moving here. There would be joys (a lovely house, living near the ocean, wonderful seasons,) but there would also be challenges. These came in the form of:
a) the strange relationship of living with my landlady
b) living in a community where the majority of the population are 50+ years old and having no peer base
c) having to commute to work every day


Then there was the most challenging issue of all of them: Loneliness.

I knew this would be the case. Having just come from an experience where I had peers coming out my ears, I was throwing myself into a living situation where I would know no one and have no peers. Being alone was part of the deal. I knew this.

But I also went into this knowing that I would have at least one friend with me. A little ball of quivering hair who would be my constant companion. It's a little sad, admitting that your only real friend, one who knows you better than anyone you interact with in Maine, is a dog. But it's true. Honest

Yes, I have support in the form of my co-workers, my landlady, my home teachers, the relief society. I have support out the wazoo. But support doesn't mean friends. Support doesn't mean I have a social life.

Support does not mean companionship.

Now my loneliness buffer is gone. I have no one to come home to who greets me excitedly like I am their favorite person in the world. All I have is a woman whom I don't like interacting with at great length, and an empty room.

When I came home from last night, every action felt empty. I think that's why I stayed at work until 6:40 pm. I didn't want to see Bonnie. I didn't want to feel angry at her for the lack of Sadie. I didn't want to cry in front of her after walking into the kitchen seeing nothing but the table and appliances.

I ate dinner at work so I was spared that lapse of time where I would have to be in the presence of another human being. When I got home I quickly unpacked some things and answered Bonnie's questions dully, wishing she would just go back to reading her book and leave me to wallow in my emotions in peace. Then I headed up the stairs.

My eyes fell on the floor at the foot of the steps where Sadie would wait anxiously for me to pick her up and carry her up the treacherous incline. Doing her little Sadie dance. Going into my room was even worse. She wasn't on the bed. I went to the bathroom and when I came back she wasn't there trembling because of my 2 minute absence. She wasn't nestled amongst my blankets. Before bed, she wasn't there rolling amongst the covers and playing excitedly with my hands as we prepared for sleep.

And when I slept, she wasn't there curled into the small of my back, breathing slowly, completely hidden under the covers.

Normally I wake up at 7:00am to start getting ready and let Sadie out. If I sleep much past this she starts to get antsy and restless. She's my back up alarm clock if my first one does not go off.

Guess who's alarm clock didn't go off? Guess who woke up 1/2 an hour later than she meant to because there was no Sadie to force her up to go potty?

Yes, I was still able to get ready on time because I didn't have to spend time feeding her and taking her outside. But that's not the point. My routine is already thrown off and who knows what that will do to my day?

Everything feels empty. I have nothing to look forward to when I go home except poor internet, no microwave, awkward conversations, and sleep.

I know that right now I am just feeling sorry for myself. I am feeling the grief acutely. I have no motivation to do anything today. This will pass. Quickly if I let it.

Right now, I just want Sadie back.

Don't worry. A picture post will follow shortly that will have less words and less depression.

1 comment:

Jeanne, the mom and grandmom said...

My heart hurts for you. And also hopes for a better rest of your year in Maine

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