Jumbo 2

I joke with RJ that sobriety is not all that it's cracked up to be.

Most days are dreary with a stifling sense of despair.

On Mother's Day I reached out to a widow, thinking it might benefit her. There are actually several widows in my life now. But only one is a stranger.

It became obvious that the widow did not need to hear from me. I needed her more that she did me.

I knew her husband but had never met her. He was a popular guy. Big heart, family man, great sense of humor. His departure from the earthly realm was sudden and shook the community.

The theme of my senior prom was "The Best is Yet to Come". I fully believed it at the time.

Now I am sure the best is all behind me, and I have somehow missed it.

My date and I were the last to leave the dance floor. We had one last slow dance while the chaperones looked on. I wanted time to flow slower. It felt like we were the only two people in the world.

Back in the limousine, on a high, I suggested that we drive around until dawn.

Shyly, my date murmured, "The car is only paid through 1 a.m."

I felt defeated then. One of what I considered the early pangs of "poverty".

My parents were not rich but they indulged us with a lifestyle that was the envy of most of our peers. I realize now that I got to equate someone showering me with material things with love.

Honestly I am not sure how I can be happy if we cannot afford to go out, dine out, travel, etc. Sure, I always could stop and smell the roses. That was my thing: to find beauty in everyday life. But in the long run, everyday life is lackluster. It is not a unique experience to need to get away from the mundane, is it?

With my ex Hulmes, one of our favorite things to do was to get lost. This was long before the internet and smart phones. We'd literally start driving and didn't care where we'd end up. It was such a carefree, wild existence. Oh, the sweet state of being young and oblivious.

Later in life it was only when we were away from home, when we could forget our troubles, that we could be happy. I started realizing that, when we ran away from problems, the problems were always there when we returned.

I have been getting antsy again lately, decades since those woeful days with Hulmes.

Part of the predicament is the blurred lines between work and home life, the obliteration of boundaries, since working from home due to the pandemic. My mental health has greatly suffered. My home is no longer my sanctuary.

Even with a loving, supportive husband, it has been a struggle. I feel ever so lonely. More lonely than ever. You'd think that a lifelong introvert would be good at being alone. I am. It is not the same thing.

When I was a kid the loneliest moment was going to bed alone, and pining for my primary caretaker to be done with her day.

I recently realized that I still dread going to bed alone. I'd tell RJ, "It's lonely in there," pointing to the bedroom. And it's worse now that I don't drink. Because with a "night cap", who cares? I'd be out like a light.

I have been sober for only roughly three weeks. I've feared that, when one of us stops drinking, our relationship is going to be altered.

Are we teetering? Maybe I am teetering. I don't know anything anymore. Probably never did.