Reclaiming My Life

Nighttime is always the worst.

Each night begins the same way, with me trying to soothe Amira to sleep.

I do my best to alleviate her fears.  We say our prayers, I hold her close, we follow the gentle instructions of a guided meditation app.  We take long, slow breaths from the pits of our bellies.  We imagine ourselves walking along a beach, or through a forest, or leaving terra firma altogether to soar through the evening sky.  I hold her in my arms and do not let her go until she is sleeping peacefully, jaw slackened, chest rising evenly, her mind temporarily freed of all anxiety.

I wish I could say I've been as kind to myself.

While every night begins the same, it ends the same as well; with my feeble attempts at numbing myself of the pain.

Once Amira falls asleep I turn to my number one drug of choice, the television.

I put on the same mindless comedies night after night, "Parks and Recreation", "Girls' Trip", "Popstar, Never Stop Never Stopping".  If there are chips in the house (and there are ALWAYS chips in the house) I munch my way through the entire bag, pausing only to laugh uproariously at the antics of Connr4Real and Leslie Knope.
If there is wine in the house (and there is ALWAYS wine in my house) I'll have a single glass to relax myself even further.  And when the movie has ended and the potato chips have been eaten, I take two tylenol pm to ensure I'll sleep for at least a few hours before getting up and beginning another day without you.

Yesterday, as I dressed to run to the grocery store, Amira took one look at me and asked, "Is that what you're wearing?  Seriously Mom?"

I was stunned.

I was wearing a fairly typical outfit: one of your Bears' jerseys and a pair of recently-purchased-but-already-starting-to-get-too-tight jeans from Target.

"Well yeah" I replied "What's wrong with this?"

"Mom, there are a lot of single dads out there you know."

"Amira!  I am NOT looking for a single dad or any other man, I'm going to pick up your lunch for school and that's it!"

But the entire way to the store I thought about our conversation.  I'm damn sure not looking for a man and everything about my appearance sends that message loud and clear.  I don't know the last time I got my eyebrows done, but I know it was while I was in Boston.  I don't know the last time I had a pedicure or my gray roots touched up, but I know it was during the Spring.  I don't know the last time I shopped outside of the plus sized department, but I know it was while you were still alive.

I don't know exactly who I'm going to be after all of this.  Will I ever be in a relationship again?  Will I ever care about anyone enough to actually WANT them to see me naked?  Will I ever go back to the fully vegan lifestyle that you and I embraced together?  Exactly who is Khadija Jamila Brewington now that Lorenzo Douglas is gone?

I don't yet know where the answers to those questions reside, but I know where NOT to continue looking for them.  They aren't at the end of "Girl's Trip" or at the bottom of a bottle of wine or a bag of potato chips.  They aren't in the plus sized department of Target either.

I won't find any answers if I'm too afraid to confront or even acknowledge the pain that is my life without you.

I have to start treating myself with the same gentle patience with which I treat our daughter.

So here we go.

I love you, babe.

I miss you.

It hurts so badly that there are still days in which I don't want to get out of bed.

It hurts so badly that I have to take Prozac to function normally.

It hurts so badly that there are times I wish I could pull an Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and have a procedure done that would make me forget all about you.

I hurt so badly.

Because I loved you so much and I still do.

Because I don't know where I'm supposed to put the pain.

Because I don't know what the rest of my life will look like without you in it.

But I suppose I'm ready to find out.