Making it my own

More cleaning today. I worked in the kitchen and dove into the baskets and containers that had 'stuff' in them. I went thru all of Jim's medical basket - it had insulin and needles and one touch and I didn't quite know what to do with them. I ended up tossing the insulin and needles in a bag and then in another bag and then in to the trash. It took a big gulp to do that.

The cleaning has evolved into a feeling of making this space my own. Not a space for two people, but a space for one lonely person. I can't get rid of the very personal things that were Jim's, but I can toss the old stuff that has no meaning. I found his old glasses and tried them on. I couldn't wear them for long because it hurt. It hurt to think that they were his. I found his Con badge from Shore Leave 2006 and had to put it aside. No problem with tossing the old pills and the medical items.

It was odd the things that I could find and look at and have trigger an emotion or a memory. I am glad that I can have the privacy in my home to let the emotions out. It is so tough sometimes out in the real world to not say everytime I think it "oh Jim and I did this or stopped there or it was a regular place for us to go". I do it all the time when I am out with friends. I mean I do it in my head. I don't know if they are tired of it, but I feel like they are. So I stopped.

I know I talked about this a couple posts ago, but it came into play today when my friends and I went to a particular diner for breakfast. The diner that Jim and I always went to. How to explain to someone the rush of a feeling that wells up inside. The trouble it is to just breathe as you step in and sit down. To say "it was never this busy when Jim and I were here" and remember the times when you were there.

Coming home from that breakfast I didn't want to interact anymore and just took a nap. The dogs needed some loving so when I got up I took them for a walk. I think the walk helped me clear my head a bit and I talked to Jim as I walked. Setting my mind on the task of the kitchen, I came home and attacked it with music and dogs as companions. I can't imagine what they must have thought.

"How are you doing?" is the question I got asked today by a friend that called. I hadn't spoken to him in awhile and he was really more Jim's friend than mine. How am I doing? I could say life sucks. But usually I say I am okay. As friend Laura said in her blog, Okay is about the best to define it. Crappy, lonely, miserable, just above laying down and giving up, sad, frustrated and missing the one we love. I guess that can equal okay.

Our house is now my house and I have to make this work because of financial restraints. This is my space and I have to make it my own. I have to make it okay.