Today has been kicking my butt. Not like it hasn't been kicked every second of every day for 70 weeks and a few hours, but I thought I could get some things done today, and I was wrong. I slept on the couch until 3 am, which I haven't done since I passed the year mark. I had a bunch of nightmares, including one in which I tried to calm myself down by reminding myself I could wake up at any time and snuggle in to his back, feel him pull my arms more tightly around him, and tell him all about the dream when we woke up. Still asleep, still inside the dream, I also remembered - no. No you can't. Instead of that realization making it worse, my dream self shrugged and turned over. The rest of the morning had more and more dreams; in each one, I told him how I dreamed I was having a nightmare and that I dreamed I couldn't tell him about it.
I was fairly alright this morning, planning on actually doing some of the many things on the to-do list that will actually benefit me in the near-ish future - things like heating assistance, and work on my website - but then grief just crashed into me, and I haven't moved from my seat most of the day. I was checking out some of my old bookmarks from the other computer, and found ferree's post of awhile ago. Her image: swinging happily, then being violently punched off her swing, while her best friend was lovingly lifted off his swing. He got to go off on his new adventure, while she was left broken and bleeding in the dirt. Yeah. Exactly. I've got that.
I think I've been having a serious backlash from last weekend's farmer to farmer conference. I won't say I had fun, but it was nice to be around people who, as one farmer said, "don't care much about being social but are really good at what they do." I learned about land aquisition and discovered a small, previously unknown interest in raising pigs. I also felt very aware of my presence as the 13th guest, the uninvited presence of death amidst all the happy people planning their lives. They were there to have fun. I represent a lot of peoples' nightmares, things they would rather not think about, especially while they are Having Fun. I didn't want to get into discussions with people only to have to answer "my love died unexpectedly, so I am farm planning on my own." I didn't want to bring - I don't know - death, I guess, to the table so manifestly, for me or for them. I managed to talk farm things with a few people, and only once started crying during a conversation. I excused myself, then felt awkward and embarrassed for the rest of the afternoon. But, I did it. And I learned things. And I missed him intensely, how he would most likely say "I'm happy to support your interest in raising pigs, and I'll eat them, but it's not something I'm interested in for myself." I missed being teased in that way he has, that way that made me laugh in a way no one else can, or could. I missed having someone to plan a future with, even if we never actually settled on any one thing.
And since I've been back, I've been sick with a cold, dizzy, tired, overwhelmed by the effort to live here at all, let alone make decisions about what I'm supposed to do with this life while I'm here, write web content, explore land trusts, formulate business plans, track down contacts, bake birthday cake, everything and anything that lands on top of the mess that I am, bleeding in the dirt having been so violently punched off my swing.
To throw in more analogies, I know I need an anchor. I had anchors, before. Good ones. Sturdy, useful, awesome ones. All those anchors, along with everything else, have moved to the moon, where they have no more weight than anything else.