I had a thought today. Rare, I know.
Here's the thing--I've been sitting around, waiting to get over Jim's death and be happy again. Today, I realized that I am pretty much as happy as I was before he and I got together. We had been friends for five years before I realized I loved him, and it took a further eight years before we began to spend a lot of time together. We married in 2000, so there were eleven years there while I loved him with no hope of ever seeing that love returned. During those years, I had a child and was in and out of two relationships. It's not as if loving Jim stopped me from having a life, or from pursuing those moments of happiness that make bearable the rest of it.
So now it's sort of like that again. I still love Jim, but he's not in my life. The fact that he was in my life for some years has not permanently changed me. At this point, almost four years after he killed himself, ours was a relationship that lasted almost one sixth of my life. I still have a life. I still have kids, and grandchildren, and friends, and theater and my job.
I wonder...is this the "acceptance" that the books talk about? I still cry, sometimes. I have moments of incredible sadness and hours when the anger is still rampant, but it's beginning to look as if I shall survive this.
That being so...Dearly Beloved, how in the world am I going to get rid of this fat? I did lose ten pounds or so, but I really can't see where it has gone. Also need some means of minimizing droop. Oh, hell! I am an idiot! I managed not to return to my cigarette habit, but why did I allow all this fat? You know I hate to sweat, right? In fact, as far as I know, there are only two good ways to work up a sweat, and the other one is dancing! Now I'm going to have to walk and stuff.
Dare I say it? THANKS, JIM!
Does Blogger have a sarcasm font?