One Year Later

Today is the one year anniversary of the worst day of my life. During the past year I've held four jobs, none of which I've kept. I've spent most of the year hiding from the world, wallowing in self pity, unable to find happiness. I haven't written any books, nor have I kept up with any of my other hobbies.

But tomorrow starts a new year, at least from my perspective. I'm going to make the most of it. I have some job interviews next week, and once that part of my life is back on track, I believe everything else will fall into place.

Wish me luck. 

Wish Me Luck

So, I finally got a job, it starts tomorrow morning. 

It all happened pretty fast. I'm subscribed to several job sites. On Tuesday morning I checked my email and applied to three jobs they suggested. An hour later I got a phone call from one of them, asking me to come in for an interview, which happened an hour after the call. They liked me at the interview, and asked me if I could start Thursday.

It's for the front desk at an apartment complex, where I will collect rent checks and help new tenants sign paperwork. The pay is decent for the area and benefits are included. My only gripe so far is the commute - it's not far, but there's lots of construction.

Anyway, wish me luck. It sounds like a great job; I'll let you know how it goes.

Happy Halloween.

As of October 18th, it's been six months. The past couple of weeks I've been more despondent than usual, and it took me until today to realize why. You know how some people get extra depressed around the holidays? Well, Halloween was our Christmas.

It was our favorite time of year. Sometimes we'd give out candy, other times we'd just turn out the lights and watch scary movies all night. Several times we spent weeks putting together matching costumes on a dollar store budget.

So today is rock bottom for me. The good news is, once I make it through my first Halloween without her, things can only go up from here.

My status hasn't changed much. I'm currently unemployed, and I get very little human contact. Sometimes I'm productive, but sometimes I waste the entire day sitting on the couch, watching YouTube. Often times I don't even have the emotional energy to do something fun.

Seriously. I can't even be bothered to do something I want to do. I'll be watching YouTube and think, "I'd really like to play a video game right now." But I always talk myself out of it. Part of it is I feel guilty playing games while I should be job hunting. Part of it is knowing that the game won't be as fun as it used to be, back when I was happier overall.

But most of it is simply spoon theory. A lot of people don't realize that it takes just as much emotional energy to do fun things as it takes to do work. Especially when you're suffering from depression.

Positive things. Today I watched the movie "Weapons," and it was very good. This Sunday I have a gaming session, which I'm looking forward to. I've been working with a guy at a job placement service, so I might find employment pretty soon. And even if I don't, I still have enough money in the bank to cover me for a while.

So overall, I'm going to be okay. I've been in a bit of slump for the past couple of weeks, but I think things are going to improve soon.

Unemployed Again

Short and sweet: 

The new job didn't work out. It was just too complicated for my grieving, 52-year-old brain. Plus it involved interacting with emergency services, which gives me PTSD for the night I had to call 911 for my wife.

I have several applications out there, and an interview on Tuesday. Don't worry about me, I have plenty of money to live on for a while.

In other news, I'm wearing glasses again, 20 years after getting Lasik. Once I have a steady job, maybe I'll save up for Lasik again.

 

I'd Rather Be Writing

I'm starting a new job on Sunday. I'm kind of disappointed in myself because I just can't work up the energy to do much. I went to see a movie today, just to get out of the house. Yesterday I played lots of video games, which, believe it or not, is actually progress. It's better than watching YouTube all day, anyway.

Still, I wish I was writing. I haven't properly written since I moved here. There's always an excuse. January through April, I couldn't write because I felt guilty for not having a job yet. April through June, I was grieving. July through August, my new job was taking too much energy out of me.

But I quit that job when I got hired for this new one, and I had a full week off in between. I wanted to write, but I'm too nervous about my new job. Once I start the new job, I'll still find reasons not to write.

The truth is, I was very lucky with my old job, the one I had before I moved. I was fortunate enough to have a job that had a lot of downtime. I wrote most of my books while at work. It's when my brain is most alert, and I have the right combination of chemicals floating around for productivity. Unfortunately my new job isn't going to give me any time for writing.

Maybe if I put aside specific writing hours on my days off, even going as far as to wear work clothes, I could get past my mental blocks and actually write something. I do have ideas. There's all sorts of stories floating around my brain, waiting to be written down.

I'm getting lonely. My D&D group isn't going to meet again for a while, because my new job will have me working most weekends. Maybe I'll make some friends at my new job, though I know I'll only be working with one person most of the time.

This house is too big and empty without KJ. I keep thinking about getting a roommate, and not just for the extra money. I'm on a message board for local LGBT+ people, and sometimes people post about needing a place to stay. Usually it's transgender young adults still living with their abusive parents. I'm always tempted to offer them a room.

But I doubt I ever will. First off, it feels skeevy somehow, as a 52-year-old, to offer a room to people in their 20s. I'd be doing it with the best of intentions, but I'm afraid someone would accuse me of being a sexual deviant. Secondly, I'm afraid of someone disappearing in the middle of the night with some of my stuff. But most of all, I just have a general fear of... whadoyoucallem... human beings.

I don't know. I love this house, but I'd love it more if I could share it.

Buffy and the Power Rangers

(Spoilers for Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

For the past few weeks I've been running a Buffy marathon as background noise, for whenever I'm playing on the computer and only half paying attention to the TV. Yesterday I got to the episode where Buffy's mother dies. It was already an upsetting episode, but this time it hit so hard I broke down in tears.

The episode probably triggered the unsettling dream I had later that night. In the dream, I got a call from the doctor's office. They told me that there'd been a mistake, and KJ had actually been in a coma all this time. And suddenly she was back in my life. She came home, got settled in, and we worked together to sort out all the complications her death had caused. The doctor also gave us a check for $140k, which I think was some sort of compensation or out-of-court settlement for claiming she was dead.

While I was overjoyed to see her again, there was some sort of unspoken tension between us. I had this weird suspicion that she'd faked her death to get away from me, but came back when she realized she couldn't live on her own. The dream also overemphasized her flaws - KJ kept wanting to go back to old habits like smoking, gambling, and charging too much on credit cards, and I kept trying to talk her out of these things. It's almost like my subconscious was trying to tell me, "See, it's not so bad that she died."

Well, fuck my subconscious. I woke up in the middle of the night, completely rattled. It took me several minutes just to figure out what was real. I kept wondering if it could be true, if she could be alive out there somewhere. Then I remembered she'd been cremated. Once that reality hit me, I started crying again and couldn't get back to sleep. So I got up to write this blog.

Will there ever be a day where I don't think of her at all? I can't imagine it. I don't want that to happen. I have her paintings hanging all over the house, and I think of her every time I walk past one. And I don't plan to take down those paintings any time soon, if ever.

Hell, I'm surprised at the little things that remind me of her. Sometimes I'll be in a grocery store and  start tearing up when I walk past her favorite powdered donuts. Or I'll see something online about the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, and suddenly have a flashback to the early days of our relationship.

See, the first Power Rangers episode premiered on August 28, 1993. KJ and I had known each other for about a month, and we were in that phase where we spent hours on the phone together every day. We'd basically watch TV together over the phone. Well, we happened to be watching the Fox channel when the first episode of Power Rangers came on.

It was an instant hit for us. We both loved "so bad it's good" media, and we spent the next half hour laughing and making fun of the show. It's one of the first things we really bonded over. We made a habit of watching it together for the next few months.

About six months ago, KJ and I were watching YouTube together when the strangest thing happened. The video we were watching went to commercial, but instead of an actual ad, YouTube played the entire first episode of Power Rangers. We were so dumbfounded we watched the whole thing. At no point did it try to advertise another channel, there was no "Hey, if you liked this, you can stream the entire series on blah blah." It just showed the half-hour episode, as if it were a commercial, then went back to the original video.

It almost feels like bookends, you know? The same show that brought us together, same episode even. We watched it about a month after we met, and about a month before she died. Almost like a portent, in retrospect.

Sometimes it hits me how perfect we were together. I mean, no relationship is perfect, but we completed each other. We covered for each other's weaknesses, filled in the gaps where the other was lacking. Now that she's gone, for the first time in my life I have to be a whole person.

I'm going back to bed. Maybe I'll even sleep.

More Ups and Downs

My mood is changing constantly these days. Some mornings I wake up and dread going to my new job. Other times I feel full of self-confidence. Monday and Tuesday were nerve-wracking. Wednesday I really found my groove, and that good vibe continued through most of Thursday. But then the final customer on Thursday night was a colossal jerk, and blew my confidence. The first customer Friday morning was also an asshole.

But later in the day, a customer called my manager to compliment my customer service. So that was a nice boost right when I needed it. But it's not just customers affecting my mood. It's all sorts of little things, and sometimes nothing at all.

I've been watching a lot of reaction videos lately, because it's hard to commit to watching something I've never seen before. My attention span's just as unpredictable as my mood, and I'm afraid that I'll lose interest halfway through a new movie. Anyway, I was watching a YouTuber watch one of my favorite romantic comedies when I suddenly started bawling.

The movie had a "found family" theme, and it hit me hard that I don't have any family nearby. This isn't a new trigger; it's hit me a couple of times before. Not as often as "my wife is gone" and the "I have no friends up here" moods, but it's still in my top 5 triggers.

I love this house and I don't plan to leave it. I'm getting used to my job (though I haven't stopped browsing the job listings), I love this city, and I really don't see myself packing up and moving to Florida just to be closer to family.

After work on Thursday I went to see Fantastic Four. Even though it's hard to watch new movies, I'm finding it's easier if I go to the theater. The lack of other distractions keeps my mind from wandering as much. I enjoyed the movie, but I kept wishing KJ was there. F4 was her favorite super hero team. She loved the 2005 movie, and even liked the sequel. It almost felt like sacrilege to see it without her.

But in the dark theater, I could imagine she was there beside me. It was kind of nice.

It depresses me that she died before the movie came out. She was really looking forward to seeing it. I'd love to have heard her thoughts about it. My favorite part of going to the movies with her was the drive home afterwards, where we discussed what we liked and didn't like about the movie.

Without that, I'm not sure why I even bother seeing new movies. It almost feels like an obligation. Like, I know I'm going to see this eventually, might as well get it out of the way. I mean, I appreciate a good movie. I've seen three this month. But do they make me happy?

I don't know. I'm not sure what "happy" is right now. It feels more like temporary relief than happiness. I mean, if you have a sunburn, does lotion make you happy, or just less sad?

Years ago, when I was suffering through a bout of depression, I wrote a blog where I listed reasons to live. One my reasons was that new Star Wars movies were coming out. I won't go as far as to say Fantastic Four was KJ's Star Wars, but I know she would have wanted to see it before she died.

This morning at the grocery store, a man with a dazed expression stopped me to say, "Hey. Jesus loves you." I keep a lot of snarky comebacks in my head, but I know I'd never use one. This guy looked slightly crazy, but he thought he was doing a good thing, so why would I ever give him grief for that? I think I just replied, "Thanks." Then he went on to say, "He died for you," and I replied something along the lines of, "I know. You have a good day," and shuffled off to the next aisle.

I try not to judge people like that. For one thing, I'm becoming that. Not in the religious sense, but I have been talking to myself a lot lately. Heck, I'm pretty sure I talked out loud the entire time I was shopping. Just things like, "Let's see, where do they keep the... nope, not this aisle..." and so on. It's not like I was having a full-on conversation with an invisible rabbit. But sooner or later, people are going to think I'm the crazy one.

I've already decided I'm going to become one of those old curmudgeons the neighbors gossip about. When I retire, there'll be a bunch of kids on bikes talking about That Crazy Old Guy's house, and how he never comes out of the house except around midnight to look for victims. Kids will dare each other to break into my house, and when one does, he'll discover that I'm just a lonely widower who never recovered from his lost love.

It'll be quite the heartwarming story, right up until I eat him.

Learning Curve

Yesterday was the third month anniversary of my wife's death. I've come along way, healing-wise, but I'm still in a lot of pain. Still, I've got a new job, made some new friends, and life is going on.

I have a love/hate relationship with my job. I love the company. I love the benefits. I love the office. I love the location. I love my coworkers. I love my cubicle.

The job itself? Hmm. It's a lot of phone customer service, and I'm okay with that. The problem is, there's a lot to learn. I tend to learn through repetition, but no two calls are ever the same. Each time someone calls, I have to pull up a different piece of software and go through a different set of steps.

Last week I sat with my trainer and watched him work. This week he sat with me and watched me work. Starting Monday I'll be sitting by myself.

This past week, I had to put customers on hold a lot while I asked my trainer questions. The problem is, half the calls I get are unique. So if a situation didn't come up in the past two weeks, I'll have no idea what to do when I get that kind of call next week. Of course there will be people to ask, but I don't like putting customers on hold for long periods of time while I track down the answer.

So far, while I'm sitting there at my desk, the job doesn't seem so bad. The calls are infrequent - sometimes I go more than fifteen minutes without my phone ringing. Most of the customers have been pleasant so far.

But my stress levels are through the roof at all other times. I have trouble sleeping at night. When I get up in the morning, I feel like I'm going to throw up. My left eyelid's been twitching, and I get frequent heartburn. Every morning I think about calling them and saying, "Sorry, this job isn't for me." Every lunch break I consider driving home and not coming back.

It will get better as I learn more about my job. Every call brings new knowledge, and eventually I won't be nervous at all. I just have to stick it out.

But I'm also having problems learning new things. Maybe it's because I'm in my 50s, or maybe it's because I'm still in mourning, but it's taking a lot longer for new knowledge to sink in. I used to pick things up so quickly, but now it's like my brain is granite, and I'm trying to carve new information in with a chisel made of Nerf.

Twice this week I've been on a phone with a customer, when they said something that somehow brought me back to the 911 call three months ago. When it happened, I completely blanked out and forgot what the customer needed. There've been a few other triggers as well. I don't know if that'll ever go away.

And I'm disgusted with myself, and my first-world problems. I'm so lucky to have found such a perfect job, and I'm complaining because I'm not good at it yet. Everyone there keeps telling me I'm doing fine, and that everybody takes a long time to learn this job. They even have a chat channel where employees who've been there for years still ask for advice on how to help their customers.

But I hate sucking at things. I want a job that I'm instantly good at. I hate asking for help. I find it embarrassing.

I keep telling myself to just give it time. And I will. I promise I won't just quit on a whim. But will I ever feel knowledgeable enough to be comfortable there?

We'll just have to see how it goes.

My Life Part 2: The Sequel

Boy, when it rains, it pours. Well, I wish it would rain. It's been a rainy month around here, actually, but this past week has been nothing but dry, boiling heat. I want that rain back.

But this blog isn't about rain, it's about life's tendency to suddenly go into overdrive. I feel like I've been treading water for the past month. But suddenly two things are happening at once.

First off, I got a job. It starts Monday. I'm not 100% sure it's something I want to do, but it's a lot better than some of the other jobs I applied for, and there's only so many choices around here. It looks like a good company, it has great benefits, and I don't have to do any heavy lifting.

Also, I might be getting a D&D group together. A few weeks ago I posted on a message board that I wanted to start a group, but I didn't get any bites. But today, five people suddenly responded. So we're meeting this Sunday to iron out the details.

Naturally, I'm nervous about the job. It's customer service, over the phone. It doesn't look too complicated. I'm not selling anything, I'm just answering questions. But I've barely spoken at all this month, and I know my voice is going to be hoarse by the end of my first day. On the bright side, my first week will only be four days due to the upcoming holiday.

I'm also nervous about meeting new people on Sunday. I've lived here six months and haven't made any friends. Seriously, I don't know anyone. There are no familiar faces, no neighbors I know on sight. Okay, there's one guy, but I only recognize him when he's walking his dog. Without the dog he would just be a face in the crowd. More people should get dogs so I can tell them apart.

My house has been like a prison, and it's my fault. I've always been afraid of people. But it has to be done. I can't just sequester myself from the world.

I really hope I can learn this job quickly. I really hope I hit it off with my new friends. My life is taking off in a new direction. New city, new job, new friends. I hope it's not too much at once. I hope I can handle the change. I'm going to have to be a stronger person, but I think I'm ready for it.

My brand new life starts now.

Caged Animal

Some days I just don't know what to do with myself. I had job interviews on Monday and Tuesday this week, both of which went very well. One of them really sounds like they're going to hire me once they hear back from my references.

Then I got sick for a couple of days. I think it's the weather. The rising temperatures and random thunderstorms are giving me headaches and allergy attacks.

My sleep schedule is off. I keep waking up with headaches all night, the kind that go away after I drink some water. I've been going through two water bottles a night lately. Which also means getting up for a lot of bathroom trips.

I don't feel I've accomplished enough this week, but I did get some things done that I'd been putting off, like fixing the downstairs toilet. Which reminds me, I keep seeing a weird commercial on YouTube about a procrastination drug, and the haunting jingle keeps getting stuck in my head. But I don't need drugs, I just need a job so I can go back to having a more rigid schedule.

Today I feel really good, but I don't know what I want to do about it. I thought about seeing a movie, but there's nothing I want to see. There's three must-see movies coming out in July (when I'll probably have a job limiting my schedule), but none of the movies currently playing are enough to tempt my wallet.

I should mow the lawn today, but I missed the window. I didn't even think about it until it was already too hot. Now I'll have to wait for sunset or try again tomorrow morning.

There's an anime convention this weekend in Owensboro, which is about 40 minutes from here. I like anime, but I wouldn't say I'm into anime. I've barely watched any of it since Voltron as a kid. There's also going to be video games and tabletop RPGs, though, so I'm tempted.

It's hard to get motivated when your life seems empty, but I've been trying to stick to the following rules: 

1. Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly.

I can't take credit for this one, it's a meme that's been going around Facebook. Basically, for some depressed people, the idea of doing certain activities can be so ponderous that they put it off indefinitely. But if they allow themselves to do a poor job, it at least becomes do-able, which is better than not doing it at all.

2. Accomplish something every day.

Some days I give myself a to-do list, but even looking at the list feels so daunting I just want to hide under the covers. But if I tell myself I only have to do this one thing, I often find the energy for five or six things. Other times it's 9 PM and I find I still haven't accomplished anything, so I stop what I'm doing and make myself do a chore before I get too tired.

3. If you can't think of anything you want to do, do something you don't want to do.

This one has motivated me the most. Sometimes, like today, I find myself wandering around the house looking for something to do. Do I want to watch TV? No, I'm not in the mood. Do I want to play video games? No, I don't see that making me happy right now. Do I want to go out? No, I can't think of anything I'd find interesting.

If nothing sounds fun, then that's the perfect time to do a chore. I mean, you're not going to have fun anyway, right? So might as well accomplish something instead of staring at the walls. I've gotten so much done simply because nothing is giving me much joy right now.

That was more depressing than I wanted to sound. Oh well, things will get better. On Monday I meet with my lawyer to finalize some probate things, so that should give me some closure. And I expect I'll have a job by the end of the month, so that will improve my life as well.

Anyway, that's it for now. I'm off to do... something. Wish me luck.

Happy Pride

Happy Pride, I guess. I'm getting more involved this year. I've entered my books in two giveaways and a book bundle. I attended a Pride festival last weekend, and will be going to another one this weekend. The local libraries are hosting LGBT movie nights, and I plan to attend as many of them as possible.

But the world is really depressing right now. I've been tuning out the news, since I'm already in mourning, but some stories are too big to ignore.

Jonathan Joss, the actor who voiced John Redcorn on King of the Hill, was killed in a hate crime. According to his husband, he was shot by a neighbor who had been shouting homophobic slurs.

Meanwhile, the government is trying to make porn illegal, while simultaneously trying to reclassify anything pro-transgender as porn. Which means all my books could conceivably be declared illegal. Will this pass? Who knows. I'd like to think Amazon, being a huge powerful company, would fight back. After all, they'd lose revenue too if that many books had to be delisted at once.

So when I keep saying, "get them while they're still legal," this is what I mean. If you want to support my work, links to my books are here:

https://books2read.com/ap/8N19Lr/Xine-Fury

The above links will take you to the Kindle store, as well as Smashwords, Nook, and several other e-book retailers. If you prefer a physical copy, you can order them from IngramSpark using these links:

https://xinefury-bloodhunters.blogspot.com/2025/05/paperbacks-by-xine-fury.html

Note, even though the paperbacks are more expensive, I don't personally get more more money from them, so don't let that be a factor in which books you buy, if any.

Dream: Job Hunting

Last night I dreamed I was filling out an online application for a job. The form asked a lot of odd questions you wouldn't normally see on an an application, such as, "Have you ever ridden a giraffe?" But some of the questions were instructions, like a scavenger hunt. For example, at one point it asked me to drive to the grocery store and buy a gallon of milk, then come back home and go to the next question.

I got the job, which involved explaining to ghosts that they were dead. They gave me a deck of cards with words like YES and NO as well as a bunch of common nouns and verbs. I would spread the cards out on the table and the ghosts would point to them, since they couldn't talk. My first ghost client looked like Arnold Schwarzenegger. He'd died a few days earlier, but had been wandering around the house and going about his normal routine, unaware he'd died.

I know that social services aspect sounds a lot like Beetlejuice, but the vibe was more bureaucratic, like Dead Like Me. There was nothing Tim Burtony about the dream. I sat down with Arnold and started talking to him, unsure exactly how to break it to him. Then I started choking on a piece of gum and woke up.

Anyway, I'm probably just nervous because I have a job interview Monday morning. Wish me luck.

Aimless

I remembered to pick up cat food this morning. Then I spent about an hour on lawn care. I showered, did laundry, and worked a little more on decorating the house. I didn't put in a full day's work, but at least I didn't waste the day.

In some ways, I now have the life I've dreamed of for years. I have less debt than I've had in thirty years. I have a big house full of cool toys. I'm a (self) published author, with eight books on the kindle store, and who cares if they sell. Younger me would be looking at older me in awe.

So why am I wandering aimlessly around the house, not sure what I want to do next, unable to focus on anything, and occasionally breaking down in tears?

That's a rhetorical question, of course. We both know why. The real question is, "Why did I finally get the life I wanted, only for fate to betray me?" I mean, this is some Twilight Zone bullshit.

She did not deserve to die. I'm no fool; I know fate is unkind. As much as we love to believe in karma, the truth is that this is an unfair world. It rains on the just and the unjust. You can deluge me with feel-good stories of fate rewarding good behavior, or jerks getting what they deserve, but that's just cherry-picking data. Most of the time, fate is random.

Supposedly, the seven stages of grief are: shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, testing, and acceptance. I could not tell you which I'm in right now, and I've randomly experienced at least three of them every day this month. Every day it's a different grief sampler.

But most of the time I just feel numb. I don't have the emotional energy to write, and video games don't bring me the joy they used to. I still spend a lot of time watching YouTube, more staring at it than actually watching. KJ might have passed away, but it feels like I'm the one haunting the house.

Same Planet, Different Worlds

My gaming room is really coming along nicely. I can't wait to show it off to... someone. I still don't know a single person in this town. I'm not even sure how to meet them. I suppose I'll start meeting people once I get a gaming group together. Which I'll do once I get a job, so I'll know what my days off will be.

I'm finally starting to get enthusiastic about the job search again. I still don't want help finding a job. What some people consider "help" is a lot more like pressure. But I'm finally reaching the point where I crave some manner of routine, so I have less time to wallow in self-pity.

I ran a lot of errands today. Post office, donation center, used media store, restaurant, gas, etc. The cats are mad at me because I forgot to pick up cat food, but I'll do that first thing in the morning.

I also moved some furniture up and down the stairs. I very nearly injured myself, but those are the risks of living alone. I still have a lot more I want to do, but there are some things that have to wait for a second human. And there are some things I just can't bring myself to do yet.

Every once in a while it hits me that KJ doesn't exist anymore. I mean, that specter is always hanging overhead, but now and then the fact just pops up, like some absurd bit of trivia. It sounds ridiculous on the face of it. I'd sooner believe that the moon had exploded. A world without KJ? That doesn't even make sense. How can you have a world without KJ?

There are still some things around the house I'm reluctant to change, "in case she comes back." No, I can't give away the teddy bears, she'll want them someday. No, I can't move the furniture around, she wouldn't like that configuration. On some level I've convinced myself that this is a temporary situation.

I truly don't know how to live for myself.

I keep thinking about KJ's stepfather, who I will refer to as "DM." And I will refer to KJ's mother as "SM." KJ and DM had a falling out a few years ago, right after SM died. DM cheated on SM, and SM's dying wish was, "Don't let him give my favorite jewelry to his mistress." So a few weeks after SM's death, KJ asked DM if she could come by and look for a specific piece of jewelry.

DM went ballistic. He told KJ that she couldn't have any jewelry, and that she wasn't welcome to stop by anymore unless she was invited. KJ retaliated by calling him out publicly on Facebook, exposing that he'd cheated on SM. DM denied it (note, he actually has a son with the other woman), and most of KJ's family sided with DM.

DM counter-accused KJ of not visiting SM in the hospital. Which, first of all, is a lie. I know she went at least twice, because I had to sit in the car each time (Covid protocols only allowed one visitor). She did cancel her final visit because the nurses told her not to bother, that SM was too far gone to know anyone was there. And KJ couldn't emotionally handle seeing SM in that state. So DM told everyone that KJ didn't love her mother.

Anyway, in all the time I've known DM, he never appeared to like SM. I never saw them act friendly with each other, I never saw any sort of chemistry between them, and it always looked more like a business relationship than anything. They went through the motions because "that's the way it's done."

A note about SM. She was an amazing woman. Smart and energetic. When I first met KJ, SM had been diagnosed with six months to live. We always joked that she was too stubborn to die. She had persistent health problems for the next twenty-something years, and finally died during Covid (but not of Covid). But I never saw her lose a bit of energy.

So from my point of view, when SM died, DM finally got what he'd always wanted. He no longer had this strong-willed woman holding him back, fighting with him, telling him what he could and couldn't do. He no longer had to take this woman to the hospital, forcing him to pay large medical bills. He now has the freedom to date who he wants, and he can spend all his free time working on cars and flying remote control airplanes.

I just keep seeing parallels. We both had been forced into a caregiver position, for a spouse who was in failing health. Now we both live alone in houses too big for a single person. We're even both unemployed right now (since he's retired), so we have plenty of time to be alone with our thoughts, to reflect on our memories of our respective spouses.

But it's also so, so different. I mean, I could be 100% wrong here. DM was a difficult man to get to know, so maybe I've misjudged him. I've disliked him for a very long time. When I first met KJ, she told me DM was acting creepy towards her, and she suspected him of looking at her in a sexual way. One of the reasons we first moved in together was to get her out of that house.

So even if I give DM the most charitable benefit of the doubt in history, he's still a disgusting human being. I simply can't imagine that he mourned SM the same way I'm mourning KJ. I just don't see it in him.

I could be totally wrong about him. KJ might have been totally wrong about him. I'm just glad I'll never have to see him again.

Another Week Gone

The cliche is, "How can I do this without her?"

The reality is, "Without her, why am I doing this at all?"

For the past 18 years, whenever I was super stressed, I found quietly myself chanting, "I want to go home." I'd say this despite being inside my house. Because I knew, despite being a homeowner, that the cramped house I lived in wasn't really "home."

But once I moved here in January, I retired that particular mantra. I finally lived somewhere that felt like home. There were stresses, sure, but at no point did I find myself thinking, "I want to go home." I was where I belonged.

It's been five weeks since my wife passed away. My mom stayed up here for a month, and she was a great help. But I feel like having her here was keeping me from fully facing my grief. I was a little too comfortable with her sitting in KJ's old chair, making beads in the same place that KJ spent all her time crocheting. If I didn't look up from my laptop, it felt like KJ was still in the room.

The past week has been an emotional rollercoaster. I've had two job interviews, and I've spent a ton of time going up and down my stairs, setting up a gaming room in the basement. I've gotten more exercise in five days than I got the entire time mom was here, and that includes the day we went to the zoo.

But I've also crashed more. With higher highs come lower lows. I've spent hours watching absolute crap on YouTube, giving my eyes some candy so I wouldn't just find myself staring at a blank TV screen. I talk out loud a lot. To the cats, to myself, and to KJ.

I ate a 10-count box of Twinkies in three days. Here, let's go on a Twinkie tangent. I bought the Twinkies on a whim while browsing the grocery store. I'd been tempted for years. It's one of those things I try every decade or so. People are like, "They're not as good as you remember," and they're not wrong. That could be the product's slogan, really. "Twinkies. They're Not As Good As You Remember."

KJ and I used to eat pound cake and Cool Whip as desert back in the old days. What are Twinkies, if not pound cake and whipped cream in a convenient, hot-dog-esque form? I mean, sure, it's not really pound cake, but overly-processed sponge cake, but it's not that different. And the filling isn't whipped cream so much as... well, it's probably not wise to question the secret formula.

But it's the kind of thing that comes around again. When you're a kid and you eat a Twinkie, you think, "Mmm... creamy filling!" Then you try them again in your twenties or thirties, and you think, "There's hardly any creamy filling, did I really like this?" Then you try them again in your fifties, and you're like, "Mmm... pound cake!"

But that particular itch has been scratched. I'll try Twinkies again when I'm in my sixties. Twinkie tangent terminated.

I've been eating healthy food, too. Some of my former coworkers from Nashville sent me condolence cards with small presents (gift cards and some windchimes). A couple of them got together and sent me a bunch of frozen dinners from one of those dinner-by-mail services. They're pretty good, but my stomach doesn't always like them. They have a lot more veggies than meat, and most of them include cruciferous vegetables like broccoli. I don't hate broccoli, but my stomach isn't fond of it.

Still, it's saved me a lot of money, because I'm so depressed I can't seem to talk myself into leaving the house. I've only left twice this week, to go to those job interviews. It's also the only times I've showered. I did manage to talk myself into seeing a movie after the first job interview, so there's that.

Each day I think about getting out and doing something. I give myself a mental carrot-on-a-stick. "If you go to the grocery store, you can have your favorite fast food as a reward. Or you can go to a sit-down restaurant and get a piece of cheesecake. Or maybe you could go get Chinese!" Or whatever I think will motivate me that day.

But I don't. I mean, it's not like I'm too far gone. I did manage to go to the job interviews, and I decorated my basement, which took a lot of energy. But I also keep zoning out, bursting into tears, and talking to thin air. 

And I'm back to thinking, "I want to go home." Because a house isn't just a home when it's finally big enough to fit your stuff. A home is where your love lives, and mine has gone away.

Please don't worry about me. I'm not typing any of this to get sympathy points, I just want to get these thoughts off my chest. I'm not going to hurt myself, and I'm not going to wallow in despair. I fully intend to keep living in this beautiful house, and I will find the motivation to keep up with the housework and the job searches.

Everything takes twice as much energy as it used to. I am bone tired, and not because I took 100 trips up and down the stairs this week. Grief is exhausting. But I will come out on the other side, hopefully as a stronger person.

Alone Again

So, mom flew back last night. I think if I look at my entire life, I've only slept alone in an otherwise empty house maybe five times. By the end of the week, I will have broken my record for number of consecutive days living alone.

I hardly slept at all last night. I have a job interview this morning, so hopefully I won't be yawning and such. But it's not going to be easy.

The "celebration of life" event went well. People took lots of vials of KJ's ashes. I'm going to start a log of where/when people release the ashes, so I can track how many cool places she's been scattered. One couple in particular often travels to other countries, so I can't wait to see what they do with her.

One of the cats, Quinn, is really starting to get on my nerves. She was KJ's cat, and she's having difficulty adjusting. She drools on me while I'm trying to sleep, and she jumps on my keyboard while I'm typing.

There are a few things I'm looking forward to. I was getting a little too comfortable with mom here. It's like I was putting off facing my grief, and postponing getting any actual work done. Last night after I got home from the airport, I did a lot of little things around the house, accomplishing more in two hours than I've been getting done in a week.

Hopefully I'll be able to keep up that energy. I have a lot of plans for decorating the house, starting with my D&D room in the basement. Dare I say, it's going to be fun to decorate.

In fact, there's so much I want to do it's going to be hard staying focused. I can't wait for that challenge.

Macabre Party Favors

KJ used to tell me that when she died, she wanted to be cremated and scattered somewhere pretty. Or alternatively, she wanted to be turned into a tree. With that in mind, Mom and I came up with an idea.

This Sunday we're having a "celebration of life" event for her. We've filled little vials full of her ashes, and we're going to give them to people who want them. The idea is that next time they go somewhere nice, like maybe a local park or on vacation, they can scatter the ashes, and that way KJ will be scattered all over the world (or at least the tri-state area). Or if they plant a tree, they can pour her ashes in the hole with it.

I'm not sure if everyone is going to see it the way I do, though. I mean, handing out vials of human ash like they were party favors? It could be seen as being in poor taste. Plus there could be legal issues, depending on where they scatter them.

I don't know. But I believe that KJ would have liked the idea, and that's all that matters to me.

Filling the vials wasn't easy. The vials are very small, and the ashes contain chunks of bone. I wasn't prepared for that. I'd been putting it off for a week, because it's one thing to pack up KJ's possessions, and quite another to pack up KJ.

But today's the last day we had time to do it, so I had to get over it. I'd spent a week telling myself, "It's just ashes. It's no different than how some of the dust in the house is made up of KJ's skin." But seeing the bits of bone hit me hard. I just look at it and think, "This used to be her. This is literally her." On the whole, keeping her ashes is only a few steps removed from having her body stuffed by a taxidermist.

We had to try a bunch of different methods, using various-sized funnels, but nothing worked very well. Mom finally just dipped each vial into the ashes while I took on corking duty. It's nice that we can still find wholesome activities to do together.

So yeah, maybe this was poor taste, or maybe it's a sweet, thoughtful gesture. All I know is that it's the strangest thing I've done in a long time.

Advice Embargo

Today marks three weeks since KJ passed.

A couple of days ago I took my mom to the zoo. Most of the animals stayed hidden, but that wasn't the point for me. I just needed to get out, have a little fun, and try to enjoy life for a minute. It didn't really help. All I could think about was how much I missed doing things like that with KJ. But at least I got some fresh air and exercise. And I met a cool giraffe.

 

The nights are hardest. When things are quiet, I have more time with my thoughts. I can usually fall asleep pretty quickly, but I keep waking up too early and staying up.

Last night I was watching YouTube in bed. I found a video that KJ would have found funny, and I broke down in tears. I wanted her to see the video. I don't know anyone else who would have appreciated it the way she would have. It's like the video was made for her. I wanted to share it with her and I couldn't.

I keep coming across things like that. Like, did you know they've announced a sequel to Practical Magic? I'll probably never watch it, but KJ would have been interested, and I would have loved seeing it with her. But without KJ, that movie has nothing for me.

I've spent the last three decades living at least partially for her. I'm conditioned to look for things she'd like. Doing things for my own enjoyment seems hollow. Like, okay, who am I actually doing this for? What's the point of just me being happy?

I need more time to heal. I'm very glad I don't have a job right now, and that I have enough money coming in that I can keep being picky for a few more months. I wish my family would stop pressuring me to get a job right NOW NOW NOW. I know what I'm doing. I have a schedule. I know I can get a job almost right away if my funds get low, but I have the luxury of waiting for a job I actually want.

Plus some family members are giving me some very elementary advice, some of which I find insulting. "Did you know you can use Google to find jobs?" Wow! I never thought of that! I definitely didn't try that all the way back in January when I moved here!

And some of the jobs they forward to me are 100% scams, which I'd already looked into months ago. Or they require certifications that I don't have. Or I've already applied there and was turned down. Yes I'm on Indeed. Yes I'm on ZipRecruiter. Yes I'm on LinkedIn. And a few others as well. I've been doing this since January, and I've been very thorough.

I know they mean well, and I appreciate their help. But I know what I'm doing. I know they think I'm being too picky. But right now, a bad job is worse than no job. Eventually that will change, but not quite yet.

Three weeks ago I was about to buckle down and put more effort into the job hunt, but then KJ passed away. Now I need a few more weeks to adjust. I don't think it's too much to ask, especially at a time when I can afford it.

I don't need advice right now. I just need sympathy and time.

Feline Blue

The cats are really starting to adopt some strange new behaviors. I think it's finally sinking in that "Mommy's been gone too long, something must be wrong." Quinn used to climb on top of KJ when she was watching TV, but she never did that to me. But now Quinn has started to climb on me the same way, and she's very insistent that I pay attention to her. She also won't let me type. She's climbing on my keyboard as I write this.

But she only climbed on KJ in the living room. Quinn doesn't spend much time in the living room right now, possibly because Mom's here. But Quinn only climbs on me when I'm upstairs in my office.

Quinn's also been walking across my face when I'm trying to sleep, which I believe she used to do to KJ. But my bed is Kara's domain at night, so she sometimes makes Quinn leave.

Kara's been trying to get outside more. The new house has an enclosed front porch, and that's where KJ would go to smoke. So from Kara's perspective, KJ would disappear out that door once every couple of hours. I think Kara's been trying to get out there because that's where she thinks KJ is now. I let her out on the porch earlier tonight, and she started searching all over the place. Granted, cats are naturally curious anyway, so I could be misinterpreting the situation.

Wicket hasn't changed much. He's always been content to spend most of his time in other rooms, so as far as I can tell his routine's the same. But I still think I'm seeing less of him than before.

I'm worried that they'll finally get used to Mom just before she leaves, and then they'll feel twice abandoned.

Nightmares

I had bad dreams all night. KJ was in all of them. In some she was alive, and we interacted and did fun things, but there was a weird vibe in the air, like everything we were doing was Not Meant To Be. In some of the other dreams, I knew she had recently passed away, but I couldn't reach her.

For example, in one dream she went on an overnight trip to a casino, and I knew which one, and somehow I knew she had passed away in her hotel room. I think she actually called me and told me. So I drove the two hours to wherever the casino was, but the hotel staff wouldn't believe me, wouldn't let me in her room, and wouldn't send anyone into the room to check on her.

In another dream we were just sitting in a park, talking. I don't remember the conversation, but it was definitely a sad one. It was like she knew she had to leave, and was saying goodbye. I'm tearing up as I type this, so I'm going to stop now.