Small step

I took down the mistletoe today.  Somewhere back in an earlier post in this blog, I mentioned that one December a bunch of years ago we'd put mistletoe on the doorframe between the kitchen and what would be the dining room if it didn't have a couple of desks, a credenza and bookshelves in it instead of a dining table and chairs, and just never thought it was worth taking it down - as I said before, why would the wife of Jerry Enright want to take down the mistletoe in a doorway we both walked through every single day?  That would have been silly.  Today I was in the kitchen, looked up, saw it there, and boom, took it down - no drama, no wailing, it's just not up there anymore.  I think I'll keep it, maybe put it in the urn with other keepsakes when Seamus and Erin are done with it and it comes back to me.

Second "counseling" session today.  It's basically, still, an hour of me just talking, and I'm still not sure in this particular situation it's making any difference.  (I did get to go on about my tendency to overanalyze almost everything that happens to me, even as it's happening.  And came to the thought that one of the few times I'm not doing that, but am able just to experience the feelings without watching me experience them, is when I'm crying at Sacred Harp singings.  So chalk up another huge point in favor of Sacred Harp singings, because getting out of my damn head and the barriers it wants to put up between me and my feelings is a definitely positive thing.)

Picked up some groceries on the way home and felt panic rising in my chest when I came out of the grocery store and saw the minivan.  So again, I never know what's going to do it.  It's not like seeing the minivan is something new, after all - it should have been more upsetting not to see it there, all things considered.  But for some reason at that instant my mind went to the knowledge that Jerry is never going to be driving that minivan again, that I'll never see him again anywhere, and, as ol' Jack reminds us, grief feels so much like fear.  Came home to my new friend Xanax.

(I was so proud of myself for staying asleep this morning until 7:30, until I remembered I hadn't turned the light out last night until almost 2 a.m.  Still, there've been times when I've been awake until 1:30 or so and then woke up for good at 5:30, so this is possibly a bit of progress.)

Wonder what time the concrete guy will be here tomorrow.  "Will be" - oh, I'm more of an optimist than I realized.