A Life Update

I will preface this post by stating that humor is my coping mechanism, and the majority of what I write should be read in a sarcastic tone. I don't mean to offend anyone, but these are my thoughts and I am going to write in the same manner that I speak. This post may be a bit more blunt than others, but I've had a rough week (so cut me some slack). To say that my life is shit-tastic at the moment would be putting it nicely.

First, there's the nightmare that is our kitchen. Now, I realized when I signed up for this massive DIY project that living in a construction zone would be difficult. I didn't realize, however, that it would take this. freaking. long. And none to our own fault, mind you. No, this is every bit the designer's fault. He told us from the beginning that it would take a "couple" of weeks from the time our cabinets arrived until our counter tops were installed. I thought, "A couple of weeks. I can live with that." Uh, wrong. Four weeks later and we have beautiful new cabinets covered with plywood. Probably not a big deal for most, but I am beyond over living on fast food and washing baby bottles/cups/bowls/spoons in my bathroom sink. Not to mention having to turn our guest bedroom makeshift kitchen into shambles if - heaven forbid - I need to find something. Thankfully, we have been informed the counter tops and sink should be installed Friday morning, but I'm taking that shit with the tiniest grain of salt.

And then there's the giant, gaping hole in my heart. The stress of living through this remodel combined with losing my best friend has become too much to bear. Insomnia is in full force these days, so I spend my nights lying in bed, starting at the ceiling, remembering her and wondering how life will ever go on without her. In the midst of all my extra "free" time, I have been researching the five stages of grief. It's fair to say that I lived in the first step of denial for as long as possible. I visited her often over the last 18 months and each time I treated her as if things were normal; I didn't want to acknowledge her sickness. As one of her best friends, I wanted our conversations to be like they always were, not about the road we both knew she was headed down. The second stage hit me like a ton of bricks two days after she passed. Monday morning I came to work scathing mad at everyone and everything. I vaguely remember yelling out loud at the dishwasher because there weren't any clean forks. Then, I bit my boss' head off when his phone wouldn't stop ringing. The finale came when I exploded on my husband who, because he had to work late, was forcing me to spend Cinco de Mayo alone eating a frozen burrito. This wasn't me. I typically don't fly off the handle like that unless I'm extra hormonal. Needless to say, when Jake arrived home that night, I broke down. The realization that the one person who knew me better than anyone else (yes, even more so than my husband) was gone.

After a long night of tears and disbelief, I was finally able to get some sleep. Sleep brought clarity, and when I awoke the anger was gone. I called in to work and spent the day by myself - no baby, no work, just me. I sat in the sun and reminisced. I took a long walk and allowed myself to cry. And at the end of the day, I felt better. I am ready to say goodbye to my friend and lay her body to rest. Words cannot express how sad I am that she is gone, but I know that I'm going to be okay. Not today, not tomorrow, but some day I will.