21. February 2017 Blog 0
(From my personal Facebook account.)
An update on my recent rants.
I was talking to a close friend about being utterly alone and friendless in Louisville. As we talked, she made me take a step back and examine my current week. I’m going out to three, possibly four meetups. I’m meeting a friend for dinner next weekend, and I’m planning a guy’s night with three friends. So, she said, tell me again how you’re friendless?
I am not without friends. Louisville is not a cold, heartless place bent on my ruin. It’s a very nice place, actually. It’s not a bad life. It’s just not the life I wanted. Part or me misses my other life. I want it back. I don’t want to wait another year or two to build up a whole new life for myself. I want everything that I want right now. Oh, and while we’re at it, I want my wife back, and I want to be thinner, and a million dollars would be nice. Chop chop.
There are days when I feel like I can take on the whole world one-handed and blind-folded. I dig in, I do the work, I think, “Yeah, that’s it, Life! Take that shit!” A week later, back to the realization that this isn’t going to happen overnight. You don’t lose someone you were with for 16 years and then whip up a new life in a matter of months. It’s hard. It takes energy, commitment, and patience. Three hard commodities to maintain. Do I really want to do Theatre, again? I don’t know. I think part of me is trying to return to what I knew before I met Susan. Trying to go back in time to a more comforting, friendlier place. A time before crows feet and grief.
Thank you everyone for your support and understanding. I know I sound nuts. I guess I am a little nuts right now. I mean, I’ve always been a little nuts anyway. Now I’m just New Ben with extra nuts. Okay, that really didn’t come out right. Strike the nuts. I’m trying to say that my life doesn’t suck, I guess. I hope it isn’t too crazy of me to keep sharing this stuff. Most people keep these things to themselves, I think. I’m a passionate guy, though, and I feel loudly. Sometimes my feelings are so loud they wake the cats.
Am I being nuts again? I can’t tell. Maybe I’m trying to say, thanks for listening. It helps a lot. Which is why I keep telling you things.
Last summer, I was lamenting the fact that I thought I had no friends here and I was lonely. I very wise man, a widower with a wonderful Austrian accent, said to me, “You could have many friends if you wanted, I suspect. But you could be in a room full of people, and you would still be lonely. You are not lonely for just anyone. You are lonely for her. No one else will fill that void in you.”
Words I will hold onto the rest of my life.
Love you all.
Widowed people will often refer to their “grief journey”. I always wince at that. It sounds so corny and New Age. But it is a journey and a process. I look at the above post and I see my own journey taking shape. Where I’ve been and where I may be going. It is a very hard road. I guess it’s leading somewhere. All roads lead some place, right?