This weekend I got dressed up...wore make up and everything...even put on some high heels...and went out two nights in a row. I know what you're thinking - "That's great! You've been so depressed - you needed to get out!" Although "getting out" did seem great, in theory, it sure didn't feel that way to me. Whereas once I was a social butterfly...I now feel more like a very shy caterpillar. So silly, I know.
Last night was Ed's company holiday party. They held it at the Camden Aquarium, which made for an interesting evening. I was wishing the whole time that the boys were with us - they would have loved the dimly lit rooms with the big tanks illuminated...and probably the dueling piano players they hired as well. Ed is still fairly new with the company so the night was filled with lots of small talk and me meeting people for the first time. It was all very nice...but oh, so exhausting. All of it seemed like chatter - so insignificant. I just wanted to scream, "Ummm....my Dad died! None of anything else is really important right now!!" (Don't worry, I didn't.) The positive? Ed and I had a nice night out together. We laughed...he thought I looked pretty...I thought I had the most handsome date of the night. This morning when I woke up - I felt like I had been hit by a truck. My R.A. was really bad...I could barely move. And I was just emotionally spent.
I spent today trying to rally myself for another night out. A big group of ladies in our neighborhood were meeting at a local restaurant for a holiday dinner. There were about twenty of us and we rearranged seats three times so we could all visit with each other. I am always so happy to see my neighbors. I've said it before and I'll say it forever...I live in the best neighborhood with the nicest people. Since I know all of these ladies, my guard was down a bit more. A few times I started to cry and ended up talking about my Dad. Not the most "Christmasy" conversation - and it wasn't intended - but I just couldn't help it. It just comes out...it's really all that's on my mind.
I wish I could be "myself" again. There have been times that I find myself laughing and happy and dancing with the kids - and I almost feel disrespectful. Like it's too soon to be happy and too soon to move on. I'm really learning how to navigate this new and scary "death" territory - and I'm quickly discovering that I can't ask anyone for a map. Everyone has to chart their own course. And no course is better or worse than another. So I guess I'll get there when I get there. (But I'm still looking for that great Gallagher short cut.)
A depressing post, yes. So I promise that tomorrow's post will have some really juicy news.