Uncomfortable

"The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers."  M. Scott Peck


On the way to Costco, I felt it.  By the time I walked through the bay doors of the warehouse and flashed the picture of me from 7 years ago, my heart was sinking, and the crowds were closing in, pulling at the strings of claustrophobia.  I took a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other.

I spent 15 minutes pacing aisles, looking at everything I didn't need to buy.  In so many ways I was looking for what was causing my panic. My mind was searching for an answer among the towels, mixing bowls and step ladders.  This is not the way I shop...I am a no nonsense person.  However, without the kids, I was restless, anxious and overwhelmed.

I took another deep breath and looked down at my list that I suddenly realized was backwards and upside down.  Instead of laughing, I looked at a half empty pallet of cereal and wondered if the man standing next to me would stop to see if I was ok if I sat down to collect my thoughts.

Costco.  Why do so many things in my life return to Costco?

When I finally finished shopping, I ended up in the checkout line of a guy approximately my age who was syrupy sweet and chatty.  As he handed back my card he said "Thank you miss, have a good day."  My head swung around, my jaw dropped.  I cannot remember the last time I was called miss...and really, I am not.  I'm a 35 year old widow and at that moment I was suddenly pissed about being called miss.

Of course, lately, my F**k You attitude, really sucks.  In January I was apologizing to everyone and now my attitude sucks.  My problem?  My life feels shrouded by death.  Fewer people are understanding this reality and I have reached the point where my phone has become silent and the subject of my deceased husband has grown silent. 

I loved him, I still love him and I will to my grave. 

Now...how to figure out the rest of this life without him. 

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned the hard way that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, or end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s to happen next."  Gilda Radner