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.
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.
I have no idea how to write this blog without it sounding as though I am working for Disney or Ravensburger. It just can’t be done. Just know, I have not been paid to write this. I mean… who would even pay for my shitty opinion anyway? Especially a family focused entertainment conglomerate? I curse like a sailor and I’m one of those sad millennials who “won’t grow up.”
That said…
In this rotting hellscape that’s hellbent on destroying any peace and security I have, in search of solace I have Lorcana. It is this Disney trading card game (TCG) that is similar to Magic the Gathering (with hints of Pokemon undertones) but with a Disney/family fun spin. Both games, by the way I am thoroughly obsessed with and have been since I was in my pre-teens.
Already I am a huge Disney Gay. The BF and I (pre-covid) literally went a weekend per month using our annual passes. Once they did away with those (and after Charlie passed) we got ourselves Magic Keys. So, I am invested in the Cult of Disney.
Once they announced this TCG in 2022 I became a D23 member so that I could hop on down to the convention to buy the promo cards, ignorant to the reality that tickets to the event need to be purchased in advance. So, I never got the promos. Even buying them on the secondary market will, WILL bankrupt you, considering that the first free promo they just handed out to anyone and everyone is going for $950. Charlie even looked into buying me the set from ebay for christmas but when he saw the prices… He decided against it.
So, I sat impatiently for a year, eagerly awaiting this game. I read or watched whatever I could find about them just to satiate my nerdy appetite. I needed them. At one point I saved a copy of every “sneak peek” into my phone gallery so I could just look at them while I waited. The colorful cards and art alone brought me this immense joy that I still cannot explain.
After release, I became bound and determined to actually compete in organized play. I wanted to be apart of something from the beginning and help support it to success. Although, Disney really doesn’t need me. It’s name alone will just print cash. It’s wild. I suggest going to a D23 convention once and you will see.
Yesterday, after having my ass handed to me at the Set Championship, a couple things occurred to me. One, I am a poor sport and my bad attitude has bothered some people in league. I don’t know if it has pushed others to no longer participate or not, but my mind has made itself up that it has. Two, I’m a terrible player. That or I just build shitty decks. Either way, I’m crap against these seasoned players.
So, how do I get better against them if I’m a cunt who, when I lose, look/act like an infant? I have to eat shit and hope that my bad attitude hasn’t ruined any good will from these guys. They are clearly the best and I’m nowhere near their level of skill.
Last night I had this mental crisis where I genuinely wanted to take my life. It was this coupled with a lot of other unrelated issues, however it was in the vein of me “being a burden” and “I’d be better off dead.”
Since I promised my husband that I would keep living… I talked myself off of my metaphorical ledge and said the only way to fix this is to be humble and ask for help. Recognize my flaws and faults, apologize and hope someone is gracious enough to train me.
Luckily, the hot viking daddy agreed to help me. Proving, again, he is truly one of the sweetest dudes around. (Especially when you see how he is raising his son.)
In the face of all this terrible uncertainty, I will hold tight to the things that bring me joy and try to make myself a better person. Today is always a good time to start. Hopefully, I can make myself a competitive player at the same time. Or, at the very least, a gracious loser.
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.
The Journal of a Jaded Josh 