Early morning cup of panic

More than anything I want to tell you all about the cruise. It has genuinely been a wonderful experience. I was so worried about traveling by myself because the last time I was “on my own” I was a scared, insecure little boy. Never once has it occurred to me that in that time the people I have loved and lived with have changed me. I am not even close to that Josh anymore. This would not have occurred to me had I not taken this trip.

That said, I woke up this morning stressing and panicking so hard about the future and what that will look like. Moreso, what my finances will be.

As of right now I am steady in terms of getting by. My parents seemingly sacrificed themselves to make sure I could make it through the next few years after their passing. It was most certainly not intentional but it may as well have been the way everything fell into place.

However nothing is forever. Especially when my line of work has been hit so fucking hard post Covid. And the probability it will be fixed any time soon with the current ass hat in charge is slimmer than a sheet of paper.

Waking up panicking about finances, while actively spending money, is fucking hilarious. Especially since the experience taught me something I should have already been blatantly obvious. I guess this is my version of “student debt.” It served me just as well as a college education has for most of my generation.

More-so, I am very concerned about what I’m going to do once the inheritance runs out. Which means I’m going to have to find another job. That is so daunting since I have spent the last 20 years of my life in this line of work. Do I go back to retail? Do I go into food service? I’ve watched my brother try and find a job the past month, applying for everything but “health care,” and he hasn’t even received a single call. I have heard similar stories from friends on the internet. What the fuck am I going to do? My entire industry is fucked. I can’t even make a lateral move to something else.

Anyway… the fact that I am overwhelmed with all of this as I am on a cruise is quite ironic.

It’s wild. I’m thoroughly inebriated. And with a gaggle of gays that I met on this cruise. And all I can think is that this is charlie alive and well. This is me feeling his energy following the party.

I miss him more than anything.

But he is apart of me. He is dictating my choices.

Table for One

For the first time in my life, this Saturday, I will embark on a trip completely solo. Sure, I have done day trips somewhere by myself. I even went to Disneyland one time alone for my birthday. I ate an entire Monte Cristo, and this was when it was a portion size that was genuinely meant to be shared. (Ah, how I was a fat-fat.) What I have not done is journey for an extended period of time away from home without being accompanied by someone. There is always a presence there to help guide me and keep me grounded. Which is why I am mildly terrified.

I am certain I will be fine. Many of my friends have and do travel on their own. They’re the type of person with “gumption.” They’re assertive. They’re also imposing figures who most wouldn’t think twice about messing with. Myself on the other-hand, is a petite fragile little thing that scurries away at the slightest explosion of sound. And one of my genuine fears is being somewhere where I do not speak the local language. So, why I (as someone who understands Spanish but cannot speak it) thought going on a Mexican Riviera cruise was a good idea is beyond me.

I settled for this instead of doing a cross country road trip. That had been my initial intention after my husband had passed. It was a way to roll the windows down, let the fresh air in, and clear out all those negative thoughts. What kept me from going, besides my fear, was the fact that Covid “inflation” decided to drastically drain my inheritance. Therefore a cruise on a contained ship would be a better use of funds. Plus, I had a credit from a previously planned trip that had to be cancelled. Since I wasn’t getting that cash back, might as well use it to solve my grieving wanderlust.

I have no idea what I’m going to do. I’m not particularly a social person when I’m alone. I use my friends and companions as crutches to aid in my extroverted introvert tendencies. Nor am I one to just strike up conversation with a stranger at a bar. Usually I end up halfway through thinking to myself, “They don’t give a shit about what we’re talking about.” Then I get all weird and shut down and end up ruining any kind of connection I may or may not have had because I got too inside my head.

I had mentioned before that I wanted to bring along this younger gentleman to aid me, but it would have made things weird all around. We’d almost certainly end up having sex, which is fine in my current relationship, but while I can detach myself from emotional entanglements this 22 year old boy would not. That for me seems entirely too cruel. Plus… his addition would detract from the whole point of this trip.

I am meant to travel alone. To experience an existence that isn’t hinged on the wants, whims, and wishes of another person. Which, isn’t a complaint, by the way. It’s an entirely foreign concept to me. Even when I primarily end up doing whatever I want anyway.

Missing Peace

My husband was entirely too considerate. He would see/sense the frustration on my face while I was helping him and would always apologize. Nothing specific, just for being a “burden.” Hearing it would break my heart, because it wasn’t the helping him with (literally) everything, it was the impending loss of him that frustrated me. I equated watching/caring for him like dragging a sharp blade slowly across my skin. The image doesn’t encapsulate everything I wanted. It just brings to mind the torture of it all, and the unknown survival.

What I knew then, that I am very, very well aware of now, is that I dreaded his absence. Just thinking of him not being around caused me so much panic that I would begin to hyperventilate.

The last two days I have missed him terribly. We are entering a very scary time. My rock and the one who knew what to say to make me feel better, is gone. I’m left to handle my emotions alone, however chaotic and confusing they will inevitably be. There are those around me who will and do help. They are just not to the level my husband achieved. Maybe it is because he had 21 years to perfect his process.

In the beginning, he didn’t know how to handle me. I am a live wire. It takes a certain level of finesse to comprehend why I do the things I do or why I feel a particular way. In those early days he sure as shit knew how to push my buttons. Ones he would deliberately press to listen to the cacophony of noises that would erupt from me. He watched my explosion with glee until it would inevitably take a dark turn and he’d have to deal with the repercussions of having done it. Only through his “practice” did he learn.

More than anything I want him here with me. I miss him terribly. I finally comprehend why people leave this mortal coil after losing the ones they love. They’re chasing the belief that they will see them again. That it will be instantaneous. That the person you crave more than air will be waiting on the other side, hand open to welcome you there. Unfortunately, it’s all fantasy. A human mind trying to rationalize a very spiritual event.