Chicken Pot Pie; Table for One (written 9/2011)
In case you were curious; yes, indeed, this does suck. I should elaborate or clarify that every waking moment doesn't suck-- but many (and sometimes, most) of them do.
Chicken pot pie. A perfect meal for an individual. A. Uh. One. Not intended for sharing.
Actually, I don't know if I've consistently ever eaten alone.... I tried to reflect on the time spent in my tiny one bedroom duplex that sheltered me after a major upset and I don't think I really ate much. If I did, I am sure it was very tiny and enough to sustain. Unless I am with good company, I find eating to be a chore. Do not take this moment to make judgments about my size- that is not the only reason I am thin. "God made me this way" as well. Not only that, but both of my birth parents are slender people. I don't mind the actual act of eating when the food is tasty, the right temperature, affordable priced, and good company to wash it down with... but minus any of those things and it just feels like something I have to do... which to be absolutely technical and scientific, if I want to survive then it is something I have to do.
None of that is really the point. It is a part of it I suppose, but not the reason that I find eating to be so bothersome as of late. I also need to make a point of saying I have been offered breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, ice cream, and drinks by some very very dear friends. But try as they might, its just not the same without him.
I think I made a mistake by being all alone today. I haven't spoken to another living breathing human being (or any dead, not breathing human beings either!) in person-- on the phone twice and via text of course. I thought I was clearly "distracted" enough. Execution reports (not nearly as cool as they sound), lots and lots and lots of laundry, folding, putting away said laundry, cleaning our room, cleaning here and there, listening to old old records, smoking, playing PvZ on my phone... but I can't really think straight today -- I hope this feeling doesn't come from some of that freaky "E.T." shiv, and he is really suffering and I'm just feeling the connection... I'm that is really cool and all, but that would mean he is as sad as I am, and that is not what he needs or what I want.
Its strange. I expected to bawl. Often. Frequently. Uncontrollably. I did when I first left him at the armory. So violently that I almost vomited while driving 65mph on Highway235... luckily and almost precisely at the same moment, I realized it wasn't time to leave him yet, so I went back... and he was so thankful I did as was I. I digress... I get really really darn awful sad. This generally leads to moping a little. Some days are harder than others and I might get all misty with that tight throat thing that happens when you're about to unload a waterfall of emotions-- but I don't just bawl. Sob. Shake. Curl up. I feel it in my heart. Why won't my body let it go? Do I feel like I am being weak if I do? Or that if I start, I won't stop for 6mths? I don't feel like an ass, because I can tell you-- I miss him. I miss him so bad that I'd give ANYTHING to see him, if only for 10 mins to hug him, tell him I love him, that I am proud, and that I wish we had more time... but I can't cry.
I also wanted to make a point that I had thought about briefly but was recently brought to the front page of my mind. He will come home. This is not death. The mourning and missing process sure feels similarly-- but its not the end. I am thankful he is alive and hopefully doing well (although as well as one could be in that situation) and he will come back and we will both be changed but God willing; for the better.
I was telling a friend recently that I hate the first day of school for one reason only. Introductions. Oh man! "Please state your name, year of school & study, and something..." ready? "...interesting about yourself." Oh shiv. Really?? I always say, "My name is..., year, study, and my husband is the interesting one. I am boring." But people like me. So I'm telling my friend that I was telling a professor this. So she was trying to teach me how to say it more interesting. She said, "I like walks, but I say: "I like to hike."" Etc, etc. Sounds easy enough, right?
The conversation went like this:
Her: So, what do you like?
Me: I like quilting.
Her: Yeah, don't say that.
Me: I like gardening.
Her: Hmmm, maybe you could say "landscaping"?
Me: I like reading and writing.
Her: Do you read fiction?
Me: Not often. Mostly true life crime or the like.
Her: See? That can be interesting.
Me: Not for others.
Basically, after our 5 minute conversation commenced, I had convinced her that I was in fact, not particularly interesting as far as class room conversation goes. Do I have a lot of interesting things in my life and that I have experienced? You're damn right I do. Do I want to share them with 15-40 strangers? No thanks. So I tell my friend this whole story. He is laughing of course (I try to make him laugh whenever I can, if even at my expense!). He looks at me and pauses, then replies: "So basically, you're a 65 year old woman trapped in a 33 year old's body?" HA! I said, "yep, pretty much.". I'm okay with it. I have had my time of being a one-woman-party-show, or trying to appeal to strangers so they may find me worthy of conversation or like me. I am so focused now on what I am trying to achieve and reach, that I don't have time for any of that "fun, fascinating" stuff-- it's books and brains for me right now. My husband. He's interesting.
I think I'm done for now. I just needed to get that out without worrying how someone might take it or getting sympathy or advice or pity or dinner ;) I am not begrudging that any of the previous statements happen-- but sometimes you just gotta get it out to the air. No reply needed. I talk to the dog a lot but I think I might be bringing her down a little, so it's all bouncing balls and chasing squirrel talk for couple days.
I am utterly and speechlessly thankful for the love and support I have from my friends and some family. Please know that just because I don't accept an offer, doesn't mean it goes unappreciated. It is not personal. It may be that I'm completely swamped, or made plans, or just feel like being alone. I thank you for you, for your care and concern and understanding me.
Always.
Chicken pot pie. A perfect meal for an individual. A. Uh. One. Not intended for sharing.
Actually, I don't know if I've consistently ever eaten alone.... I tried to reflect on the time spent in my tiny one bedroom duplex that sheltered me after a major upset and I don't think I really ate much. If I did, I am sure it was very tiny and enough to sustain. Unless I am with good company, I find eating to be a chore. Do not take this moment to make judgments about my size- that is not the only reason I am thin. "God made me this way" as well. Not only that, but both of my birth parents are slender people. I don't mind the actual act of eating when the food is tasty, the right temperature, affordable priced, and good company to wash it down with... but minus any of those things and it just feels like something I have to do... which to be absolutely technical and scientific, if I want to survive then it is something I have to do.
None of that is really the point. It is a part of it I suppose, but not the reason that I find eating to be so bothersome as of late. I also need to make a point of saying I have been offered breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, ice cream, and drinks by some very very dear friends. But try as they might, its just not the same without him.
I think I made a mistake by being all alone today. I haven't spoken to another living breathing human being (or any dead, not breathing human beings either!) in person-- on the phone twice and via text of course. I thought I was clearly "distracted" enough. Execution reports (not nearly as cool as they sound), lots and lots and lots of laundry, folding, putting away said laundry, cleaning our room, cleaning here and there, listening to old old records, smoking, playing PvZ on my phone... but I can't really think straight today -- I hope this feeling doesn't come from some of that freaky "E.T." shiv, and he is really suffering and I'm just feeling the connection... I'm that is really cool and all, but that would mean he is as sad as I am, and that is not what he needs or what I want.
Its strange. I expected to bawl. Often. Frequently. Uncontrollably. I did when I first left him at the armory. So violently that I almost vomited while driving 65mph on Highway235... luckily and almost precisely at the same moment, I realized it wasn't time to leave him yet, so I went back... and he was so thankful I did as was I. I digress... I get really really darn awful sad. This generally leads to moping a little. Some days are harder than others and I might get all misty with that tight throat thing that happens when you're about to unload a waterfall of emotions-- but I don't just bawl. Sob. Shake. Curl up. I feel it in my heart. Why won't my body let it go? Do I feel like I am being weak if I do? Or that if I start, I won't stop for 6mths? I don't feel like an ass, because I can tell you-- I miss him. I miss him so bad that I'd give ANYTHING to see him, if only for 10 mins to hug him, tell him I love him, that I am proud, and that I wish we had more time... but I can't cry.
I also wanted to make a point that I had thought about briefly but was recently brought to the front page of my mind. He will come home. This is not death. The mourning and missing process sure feels similarly-- but its not the end. I am thankful he is alive and hopefully doing well (although as well as one could be in that situation) and he will come back and we will both be changed but God willing; for the better.
I was telling a friend recently that I hate the first day of school for one reason only. Introductions. Oh man! "Please state your name, year of school & study, and something..." ready? "...interesting about yourself." Oh shiv. Really?? I always say, "My name is..., year, study, and my husband is the interesting one. I am boring." But people like me. So I'm telling my friend that I was telling a professor this. So she was trying to teach me how to say it more interesting. She said, "I like walks, but I say: "I like to hike."" Etc, etc. Sounds easy enough, right?
The conversation went like this:
Her: So, what do you like?
Me: I like quilting.
Her: Yeah, don't say that.
Me: I like gardening.
Her: Hmmm, maybe you could say "landscaping"?
Me: I like reading and writing.
Her: Do you read fiction?
Me: Not often. Mostly true life crime or the like.
Her: See? That can be interesting.
Me: Not for others.
Basically, after our 5 minute conversation commenced, I had convinced her that I was in fact, not particularly interesting as far as class room conversation goes. Do I have a lot of interesting things in my life and that I have experienced? You're damn right I do. Do I want to share them with 15-40 strangers? No thanks. So I tell my friend this whole story. He is laughing of course (I try to make him laugh whenever I can, if even at my expense!). He looks at me and pauses, then replies: "So basically, you're a 65 year old woman trapped in a 33 year old's body?" HA! I said, "yep, pretty much.". I'm okay with it. I have had my time of being a one-woman-party-show, or trying to appeal to strangers so they may find me worthy of conversation or like me. I am so focused now on what I am trying to achieve and reach, that I don't have time for any of that "fun, fascinating" stuff-- it's books and brains for me right now. My husband. He's interesting.
I think I'm done for now. I just needed to get that out without worrying how someone might take it or getting sympathy or advice or pity or dinner ;) I am not begrudging that any of the previous statements happen-- but sometimes you just gotta get it out to the air. No reply needed. I talk to the dog a lot but I think I might be bringing her down a little, so it's all bouncing balls and chasing squirrel talk for couple days.
I am utterly and speechlessly thankful for the love and support I have from my friends and some family. Please know that just because I don't accept an offer, doesn't mean it goes unappreciated. It is not personal. It may be that I'm completely swamped, or made plans, or just feel like being alone. I thank you for you, for your care and concern and understanding me.
Always.
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