I lost my car keys at work today. At Addison Gilbert, trying to get to Physical Yherapy after work, and need my gym clothes. I cannot find my keys anywhere, they aren't hooked on my bag or anywhere in the office. Becky (my intern) tries to help. We search the office, the parking lost, we call security, lost and found, Becky even looked in a Donut box nothing. I called Amy the nurse that shares my office, she didn't pick them up by mistake, but offers to drop everything (she has 3 kids and it is dinner time) to schlep me to Beverly and back to G town).I tell her I will call her back. I shoo Becky away admists protest, to go to Physical therapy, I would figure this out. After PT I come back to the office. Who to call, what to do? The obvious but oh so unavailable choice is Chris. The reality of having no one strikes again, complicated by the reality of being able to snap my fingers and have the minions all arrive. It's not the same as having the husband, lover, best friend to rescue me. And I need rescuing from this darkness. I WANT HIM BACK. I cry out in my office, no one hears (hopefully). I cry for a while. Then I start texting the minions let's see who answers first. Kayla the 17 year old who lives next door and is a " new driver" offers to fetch my spare keys and bring them to me. She heads over to my house to find the keys. Not sure which ones she sends me a picture of the one she thinks is right,I marvel at the technolgy and laugh a little at the picture of her chipped black fingernail poished hand holding the correct key. I gice the go ahead and she is on her way......I call Amy to tell her I am all set, she tells me that she lost her keys recently and that it drove her nuts.
(I lost my husband and am nuts.....). I love her though but I dismiss her all the same. I await the 17 year old, she is about all I am emotionally equipped to handle. She won't notice that I have been crying when she gets here.
Lindsey calls I tell her I am all set (2 out 5 minions responded withing 10 minutes, not bad) She wants to come I tell her Kayla is on the way.,....
I hang up I cry. Why? Everything is resolved. I am pathetic. I feel like a loser feeling sorry for myself.....but I can't stop.
Kayla arrives she calls me from the parking lot over by the emergency room, I go out with out a coat. The night is cold and dark and I feel so chilled to the bone. I can't take a winter in New Engl;and alone I can't. The winters here have always been so frightening to me. Where else could you die just by being outside? I hate the dark and the cold when it is out of doors. I seem to like it in my house though.....although there is no thermostat outside. I can inch the thermostat down each night, but I can always turn it up if I want. Something you can't do outside.
I grab the keys and Kayla wants to follow me home unsure of the way. I feel bad that she is frightened to get lost and is 17 and yet she drove 20 miles to rescue me.
I get in my car and drive over to her, beep and our wagon train is on the way. I am grateful to be alone in the car. I don't have Adam in the CD player, having taken him out to play in the office, I drive in silence, hearing "Fever" only in my head. I don't remember most of the drive, just conscious of driving slow, watching Kayla in the rear view mirror. Finally we get to the Beverly exit. Off the exit we pass the same houses I always pass, although with the passage of a few days, more and more of them have Christmas lights. My mind travels to a conversation I had with my son Max about Christmas presents. He asked me, since we are going to Washington as an escape/present if I wanted him to get me a present, I said no and that thought crosses my mind now. I think that there is no one that loves me to buy me the perfect Christmas present. I will never know that joy of opening Chris' gifts to me. I want no other presents,only his, so thoughtfully picked out, perfectly wrapped. He so loved Christmas, he made it all sunny and bright and fun. I never loved Christmas morning like I loved with him. Childhood Christmases with hungover parents could never match the special joy and fun we had. And now I will never ever have that again. The searing pain begins. Hot tears travel down my cold cheeks (I forgot to turn the heat on) I marvel that I can be so sorry for myself, so unlike me. I had an abusive childhood, but this is turning me into a a "poor me". and I can't help it, don't want to change it and am wallowing in it. Is this the anger I am supposed to feel?
Crying so hard now I have to pull over in front of Casa De Moda, a local popular gift store. I can't stop the tears. Hated Christmas and Chris opened the door to its wonderment and fun, a door that is now permanently shut. I wiill never have a Christmas again, no presents not tree. I want to go home and burn all the decorations up in the attic.
I limp home in the car and wonder why it is that I even continue on. This last week has done me in, why don't I just end it? Really, I am beyond full of grief, beyond full of pain. I want this over. My hip hurts, I can't even walk the dog or enjoy anything I want out and I want out now.
I get home I have all these bags from work, my purse, briefcase, lunch bag, I think I should clean up and get organized. Look around the rest of the house is pretty tidy. Could just kill my self now I think. What would be the difference. Just end it.
I decide to have a beer first. Then I remember: Adam: The View. I should watch.
I open a beer and settle on the sofa. I play the show. All the hoopla around his performace on the AMA's is discussed. He anwers perfectly, holding hois own admist the firestoprm that is Elizabwth Hassleback. He sings a song.He sounds great. I decide that after I will write/blog/ post whjatever. I open another beer. I am feeling calmer. I still want to die, I just don't want to DIY.
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