The Past and Pancakes
Holy crap. I woke up this morning in tears. I must have been dreaming about Jimmy.
I woke up on my side of the bed, sleeping on my side.
Something about the way I sleeping... and the way I woke up... and Jimmy's bedside tables... it all reminded of a memory. A very specific memory.
When Jimmy used to work the day shift, or when he was called in early, he'd walk around to my side of the bed and kiss my sleeping face as to say goodbye. I'd hear the door close and lock.
This random 'sometimes' moment woke me this morning and immediately brought tears to my eyes.
It felt real for a second, and when I opened my eyes and realized, well, the reality -- I missed Jimmy.
Waking up in tears is something that is not normal for me.
Luckily, I had therapy today.
I explained to her that I continue to grieve and mourn Jimmy from our past life. I remember from one of our first sessions my therapist asking me if memories were comforting or painful.
I immediately replied -- painful.
Not sure that will ever change.
I told my dear therapist I sometimes equivalate these feelings to death, or how a spouse could feel after a death. The grieving and mourinng. I know it's not the same. I feel very lucky that I can go hug my living, breathing husband.
But sometimes remembering stuff sucks. Knowing we can never go back.
I get sucked into the past very easily.
After my session today, I ran some errands. Had lunch at a new spot by my house I've been wanting to try. I got Jimmy some flat iron steak to-go. Went to the post office and then came home to a husband who was sleeping.
When he finally did wake up, he was a little loopy. When he's loopy, he gets vulgar. It's kind of hilarious.
When he snapped out of that, he was very engaged in what I had to say.
I told him about therapy, about my morning memory. Even the fact that I tend to mourn the loss of the 'old' him. He seemed to understand. It makes sense. He was sympathetic.
After all the talking today, and the crying earlier in the day -- I had strong urges for food. The comfort kind.
I'm damn lucky there wasn't a whole cake sitting on my counter. I would have taken it out.
I made myself some chocolate chip pancakes for supper. A little powdered sugar. I didn't even wait until the first one finished cooking before I started eating it.
Right off the griddle. Who does that? I nearly burned my freakin' fingers off.
God that shit was good.
Who says chocolate doesn't heal?
I'm happy that all of today's events led to me a healthy conversation with my husband on how I was feeling. He's not always down for hearing about my "woe is me" episodes. I don't blame him. I'm not sure, but he may have enough stuff going on.
I'm also glad I ate chocolate chip pancakes.
My bum is not.