Jen

Texarkana. Or closer your way, if you prefer-- there's just not much between DFW and the Arkansas line. We'll make it happen.

After some discussion, we're thinking Secaucus is the logical solution. Michael and I are staying in Newark, and planned to take the train into the city. Forgive my geographical ignorance-- I had to consult Google Maps-- but it looks like Union County is right next door, maybe a half hour drive? Ocean County looks to be further out, but if you're up to it, we could decide on a time and meet at Secaucus Junction, then catch the train and head to our rendezvous. Bless his sweet heart, Michael has volunteered to drive if necessary, but this just seems easier than trying to deal with parking and all that fun stuff. Whatcha think? 26 days and counting! (And, oh, yes, I am counting!!)

Touch. That's what I need. Skin on skin. Somebody to hold me while I listen to their heartbeat. I wouldn't turn down more, but I'd be happy with this.

It's somewhat ironic to me that for years I've read all about mindfulness, and how desirable it is to live "in the moment." Now I can't get out of the moment, which seems like it should be an accomplishment-- and maybe it would be, if the moment wasn't so lousy. :-\ That's not entirely true, I suppose. I'm here, I'm reasonably healthy, I have things to be grateful for. I need to stop focusing on the negatives. Easy to say, harder to do... (((HUGS)))

Love the "little red monster" idea! You'll have to post a pic when you get it! ((((HUGS))))

Happy Birthday, sweet Kenneth. (((((LESLIE))))) Thinking of you today...

Mangomom, I promise I will make good on every single hug. I really am counting down the days. Yes!! I really thought March would be better, after the frozen misery that was February. Right now there's nothing awful going on, there's no crisis to deal with, but there are a dozen little fires to put out at any given moment. Any one or two I could deal with, but put them all together... It's like being pecked to death by chickens! Yes. Oh, yes. I'm so tired of it. I find little pockets of non-lonely sometimes, and I cherish those moments, but they end and the loneliness comes flooding back. And I don't even have to be physically alone-- I can feel that pervasive sadness in the middle of a room full of people. (((HUGS))) I am so sorry. I keep having those "a year ago this time... " thoughts. I hate them; they don't help. He was here one day, gone the next. Sometimes I wish I had brain bleach and could scrub all of it out. Tearing up again... that means a lot to me. (((more hugs))) We will get through. We ARE getting through. One little snail step at a time...

Maureen, thank you. I feel like such an idiot... it didn't occur to me. I'd convinced myself that I was all right with it. Eleven months, one year, what's the difference? But on balance... I think there is a difference, even if it's just one that I've created in my own crazy little head. I set that year as a goal-- "If I can make it one year, I'll be all right." Now that I'm almost there, I'm afraid that I'll quickly find out that I'm NOT all right. How different is 366 days from 365? I think this is one of the hardest things about this journey-- maybe THE hardest-- and that's that there's no defined endpoint. We go on and on-- it makes me think of a song from Kismet (sorry, I need to just start my Broadway songs and quotes thread and be done with it, then I can put this crap there and everyone can happily ignore it and life will go on, lol): "Then fate's a thing without a head/ A puzzle never understood/ And man proceeds where he is led/ Unguaranteed of bad or good." If someone could tell me, "You will be miserable for 2 years, two months, and 11 days, then it will all be over and life will be good again, and you will look back and see that it was all worth it," then I could cope, you know? There's an end. It's a long time to be miserable, but I can count down the days and eventually the good will get here. But obviously that's not happening. I'm so afraid that I'll keep crawling along and never find the good again. But then again... what's the alternative? Give up and die? That would be cowardly. Not what Jim would want for me-- he'd be ashamed. And the road through hell has too many good people on it for me to leave. Honestly... beyond the obvious-- I'm absolutely required to stay for my kids and my family-- those bago adventures are what I'm living for right now. I do know there's a good chance I wouldn't be here without the support of the amazing community here, and I'm so incredibly grateful. So-- thank you. From the bottom of my heart. I know you're tired of being told you're an inspiration, but... (((HUGS)))

Oh, hugs, ((((HUGS)))) I could have written your post at 4 months... some days I still could. I'm approaching a year now, and while I think I've accepted my Jim's death, I'm still struggling with the loss of my future. I understand the feeling of having nothing to look forward to all too well-- I've managed to find a few little things, only three or four months ahead, and I'm hanging onto those with all I've got. After that it's a huge empty unknown, and it's terrifying. It's too much to contemplate, so I try not to think about it. Sometimes taking it day by day is too daunting as task, so I take it hour by hour. This past weekend I was back to breath by breath. But we keep going, somehow. And you're definitely not alone.

I can't seem to shake it. Ides of March? I've been crying all day. It's particularly horrifying, as I'm at work. I feel like my heart has been ripped open and I'm bleeding out again. Why? Where is this coming from? Nothing happened to cause this. It just hurts! I have no passion anymore. For anything. I only ever really wanted one thing-- I had it briefly-- then I lost it, and there's no chance of regaining it. Still, I was doing better-- I was seeing light and color and possibility again. And then it all went away. No hope. No joy. No nothing, ever. Yes, I'll survive-- I don't have a choice there. But other than duty, what's the point? Forgive me another book reference, but I feel like those poor people in The Golden Compass who are severed from their daemons-- they go on living, but they're just one step removed from zombies. They keep breathing, they keep doing, but there's nothing in them that ever... aspires, or dreams, or soars. You're right, my anchor is gone. I'm just drifting aimlessly, and I wish I could believe I could find land again, but right now there's nothing in sight. :-/ I do know that depression, that lying old hag, figures into this. I'm trying to work through it with a therapist, though I'm not overwhelmed wth optimism that it will help. There's a good bit of anger as well-- I'm furious with my husband for leaving me, and it doesn't really matter whether he wanted to or not. I'm no less alone. I think I'm getting bitter... cold. I can almost feel my heart freezing-- if that happens, it really will be the death of me. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking. It would be so nice not to feel anything at all anymore... I'm wrong; there is one thing I can still get excited about, and that's traveling-- it's not much of an exaggeration to say I'm living for the upcoming bagos I'm planning to attend. Hope you don't mind soggy hugs, Mangomom.

So that didn't take long. :-\ Total meltdown in the grocery store parking lot yesterday-- no real reason, nothing specific to trigger it, just the yawning empty ache inside opened up and dragged me back in. End of a crap week, to be honest. I feel like I'm trying to walk across quicksand. Or maybe it's the Swamp of Sadness in The NeverEnding Story, and I'm that poor horse that finally just gives up and sinks. I think I've figured out why this is so freaking hard. It sounds ridiculously obvious, but it's a considerable revelation for me: there's no getting away from it. No escape. This is reality; reality BITES. My whole life, as long as I can remember, escapism has been my coping mechanism of choice. Some people drink, do drugs, shop-- I disappear into a fantasy world. I bury my nose in books, or I lose myself completely in my own fiction. It's always worked beautifully-- as long as I'm in Middle-Earth or at Hogwarts or flying the Enterprise, nothing in the real world can touch me. It's kept safely at bay, and I don't have to deal. Maybe not the healthiest way to face one's life, but it's gotten me through some bad times in the past. Now, though, it's not an option. It doesn't work anymore. I can read, but I can't immerse myself in the stories the way I used to. I can't write-- my imagination is out of order. This is all there is. Can't think about the past; can't find a future. I'm stuck right where I am in the here and now, living through every single waking minute of every single day. I tell myself that a minute in the real world lasts exactly as long as a minute spent in one of the worlds inside my head, but it's simply not true. Guess that's why this is hell.

4 weeks from today, y'all!!!!

Can't tell you how glad I am you re-re-posted this just now-- your timing is impeccable. Precisely, exactly, and with your usual acuteness, you've hit the nail on the head as far as pinning me right where I am. (Did I get enough "sharp" references in there?) It's been 338 days. That's enough, right? It ought to be enough. If I make up my mind and decide that it's bloody well enough, then it should be. It should be.

Jason... I'm typing this with tears pouring down my face. I'm appalled by the coldness and cruelty some horrible people evinced in the wake of Grace's tragic death. But more than that, I'm amazed and humbled to see the intense love you have for her. That is... priceless. So many hugs, as useless as they are. And thank you.

It's not even the caffeine- it does nothing for me. And if I'm really honest, I don't even like the coffee all that much anymore. It's just... habit. :-/

1. I live on coffee most of the time-- I go to Starbucks nearly every day and drink 2 cups of brewed coffee with sugar and half-and-half (my reasoning is that the sucrose, fat, and tiny bit of protein should be sufficient, along with all the excess fluffiness that I have). I keep yogurt and granola bars at work, and I chew ice all day. If I'm home alone, I get hungry, wander to the kitchen, look in the fridge, then shut it again and think, Nah, not worth the effort, I'd rather listen to my stomach growl. I only eat a full meal when my mom is home, because she insists on making one and then pulls a guilt trip if I don't clean my plate. People keep asking me what my secret is (cos, yes, I've dropped a fair bit), and I tell them it's the Diet from Hell. I couldn't care less about weight loss, I just can't be bothered with finding and consuming food most days. 2. I feel sorry for myself, and I HATE IT. It makes me despise myself for being so weak and pathetic. But I can't seem to stop. 3. I sometimes think I created this whole thing-- from finding Jim to marrying him and then on through to losing him-- as some St Elsewhere or Dallas-style extended dream sequence in order to deal with the colossal disaster that was my first marriage. It was never real, so I don't belong here--or anywhere else, as far as I can tell, except maybe some freak show someplace. 4. I can tell myself a thousand times a day that "I got this," but it's a house of cards on a wobbly table in an earthquake zone. Honestly... I think I'm just... done.

Fuck my feelings. Fuck this goddamn roller coaster from hell. I WANT OFF.

Aww, Tweety... can I just tell you that this totally made my day? I needed that badly. Thank you. And hey-- it won't be too long and I can hug you back in person!!

I am so, so very sorry. No words of mine could ever be adequate. ((((hugs))))

<raises hand> Guilty. Just don't have it in me right now, but I promise I read it all and send tons of virtual hugs. :-/

Oh, Baylee... <tears>

I'm pathetically short on words these days, but I have lots of (((hugs))).

You know my thoughts on this. I didn't think about a tote bag-- way cool!! Latest update from the station manager: he's planning to open the new studio on St Patrick's Day, and with a bang. However, for various reasons, there might be a delay. Hang tight-- and some good vibes sent Michael's way would not go amiss.

Thank you SO MUCH for reposting these. I'm sad that I'm missing this show by such a narrow margin! I've had a few songs in mind that I considered posting, but I don't want to flood the board with Broadway's Greatest Hits. Those are the songs I know, and the ones that really speak to me, but I don't want to annoy everybody.

Rob, I'm from CO-- well, lived there as a child (Westminster, Four Corners) and moved back for grad school (Go Buffs!). I'd love to do a CO bago, but I can't manage it this year. Don't give up, I want to go!