Entry 1 – October 26, 2024
This is not a story. It’s not a poem. It’s a little bit of both and I’ll try to clarify as I go, but I need to tell you something or I may explode. There is no moral. No happy ending in sight. There is only strength. There is only suffering at this point. I’m certain it can get darker in here, but I can’t tell if there are any more lights, aside from the hope that burns bright within me. If I tell you the ending, I would have had clairvoyance the entire time.
The autumn air is chilly, and I’m sitting by a window sill on the fourth floor of a hospital building after having had a fight with my husband about a peanut butter sandwich that inevitably ended up in the garbage.
A month ago, I thought I wanted a divorce. Fast forward to now and I don’t know what I’m going to do if he dies here. Life or the universe or whatever cosmic being is adding these twists for comedic effect must really be enjoying the 180 I have done with my emotions the past 30 plus days. It’s almost the end of October, my favorite month of the year, and I’ve barely been outside to enjoy it.
I can see the leaves on the trees and foliage below me. It’s a beautiful cascade of hues painting the greenery. When I was in college, I used to sit on the second or third floor of the library at a large window overlooking the campus. This specific spot makes me think of that. There’s a single cloud rolling by in an otherwise open blue sky that looks like a cartoon turtle. The parking garage, full of cars owned by the staff and people who are in a similar predicament as myself, sits across the way and I can see the dingy white sides contrasting against the colorful trees.
This is not how I thought I would be spending my 35th birthday. Honestly, I was hoping for the sushi I was promised and a day of binge watching my favorite shows. All I can think about are the echoes of Ryan’s voice saying “you deserve more” as the tears fill his desperate eyes. I would say he was right, but I am doubtful knowing what I know. Knowing how I felt only a few days before he became ill. Knowing that I would have left him then. Not knowing that now, after seeing him at his most vulnerable, I never could.
I don’t know what that says about me or our relationship. I can’t explain how this peanut butter sandwich in the garbage can shows me that I’m more committed than ever, but it does. Maybe it’s because I know my stubbornness and his will always clash. Or perhaps it’s because that’s the thing I love about him the most, for better or worse.
Today would have been a beautiful day for a wedding, and coincidentally that’s where I’m supposed to be right now. Instead I’m sitting here, typing this, and hoping that maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe this afternoon will be better. Maybe 20 minutes from now will be better. It has to get better at some point, right?