The Benefit of Outings

Day 12

–––

Last night was indeed shitty. I got home earlier and with more remaining energy than I’d planned. I (self-distructively) read more of his e-mails, laughed, remembered long since forgotten exchanges, spent a while growing hopelessly sadder, increasingly lost and desperate, before finally deciding my only chance of escape was to go walk more. I needed to buy some water, so I planned, insofar as I planned, to end up at a nearby convenience store. I walked slowly for about an hour silently, just thinking. The movement, the escape from my prison-cell apartment, helped distract me enough that, by the end, I felt less like I was drowning in misery.

Getting back to my apartment, I checked the box score of Game 1 of the ALDS between the Astros and the Rays. Thru four innings, Justin Verlander was throwing another no-hitter. I found a stream of the game and watched a couple innings. I took a shower, and then watched the end of the game before finally falling asleep at around 7:30. (The Astros won, which helped.)

I woke up, as is now customary, about 4 hours later. But this time I managed to fall back to sleep for around 30 more minutes.

–––

One more thing about last night: my maternal grandma’s card arrived. I suspected she’d be the only person to send me one, and – so far, at least – she now is.

–––

My only plan today – the only plan I’ve made or not canceled since he died – was to go to a going-away party for a friend of mine who is returning to his inverted home country, Australia. I went. It was a good time. But I spent the whole time feeling incredibly run down while trying not to seem it.

For the first time since my dad died, I took something to help. I haven’t been taking the Xanax or sleeping pills that typically power me through social situations or help me fall asleep. For some reason, I haven’t wanted them to impact how I feel. I’m already incredibly low, so the Xanax isn’t necessary. And taking the sleeping pills… I don’t know how to express this. It feels like they would rob me of time, of emotions, I owe him. That’s insane, I know, and he’d find it absolutely ridiculous, but it’s how I feel. I’ll sleep when it comes and I’ll get up when the thinking starts. Anything that alters my experience, even for the good, I’ve avoided. This feels, more than ever, like a time for which I need to be present.

But social situations… those pretty much require a Xanax for me. They are work and the nervousness makes me so uncomfortable that I’d often spend the whole time thinking about how I felt rather than relaxing and having fun. Xanax helps mitigate that. So, out of habit as much as uncertainty, I took one today. I didn’t, it turned out, need to do that. I’m so sleepy from my four-or-five-hour nights that the Xanax just slowed me down to a point that wasn’t easy to overcome. I drank an unreasonable amount of milk tea and it barely made a dent – or I assumed it did, but I didn’t feel it.

After the party, I walked back home, relaxed a little, then headed back out to this Starbucks, which I’ve done nearly every night for the past 12 days.

–––

Today didn’t seem like an improvement, but it included a nice respite. I hope the remainder of the day will too. I’m frightened of the night. Of the silence. Of the times I’m alone.

It’s been 12 days.

終