Regarding Stormy Weather

I recently described how music frequently serves as an indicator of my mood. Well, today's post is inspired by our local weather and sponsored by Frank Sinatra's rendition of "Stormy Weather," a phrase that accurately depicts what's been going on for me lately. (While I heard Billie Holiday running through my head as I composed this post, I picked Frank's rendition because the lyrics match the situation.)

If you saw my previous post, it should come as no surprise that my emotions are in high turmoil. As I work through the necessary arrangements, I find myself experiencing ranges of emotion that flare, swirl, and twist. Pain, grief, anger, resentment, betrayal, confusion, jealousy, fear, and despair all rage through me, through my mind, my heart, and even through my soul. It's an inferno, a deluge, a typhoon, and a shockwave; the four classical elements crashing together in a single emotional overload. And lurking underneath is an ever present sense of soul-crushing loneliness and the utter certainty that I am ultimately broken, unloveable, and unwantable. That somehow, I deserve all of this.

All of this has happened before. All of it will happen again.

I know these are natural responses to what's happened. I know these feelings are a form of depression and a part of the grieving process. It'll pass. (I hope it'll pass.) But even knowing all this, it continues to overwhelm me when it demands to be given voice. Several times over the past days, I've found myself lying on the floor in the middle of the room, sobbing uncontrollably. The emotions are so strong and the despair is so deep.

I don't want to bury these emotions. I've done that so many times in my life that it bubbles back at the worst possible time. No, I need to experience this now and deal with it all. That feels like the only chance I have of getting to true healing.

I'm scared I won't be able to handle the finances; the mortgage on the house needs two paychecks and now there's only one. We bought the house in the final throes of the housing bubble, so it's underwater (meaning we, no...I owe more than it would sell for). The numbers work, but barely. I have to literally watch every penny and will be eating very little when neither of the girls are in residence.

DD and Kara are handling the change as well as can be expected. I haven't seen a lot of DD since the announcement, but she has said she wants me to remain a part of her life. JP's moved to a different part of the city, so I don't know how that will work in the long run. I miss having her (DD...and JP, truth be told) around when I come home from work. I miss being able to get cuddles whenever I want. I miss tucking her into bed at night.

When either (or both) of them are around, I put on a brave face. We distract ourselves with activities, TV, and video games. It's hard for me to focus on anything, though, especially when I'm home alone. I try to watch a DVD, but give it up as a bad job after about five minutes because I can't focus on the story. Sleep is, unsurprisingly, fitful and elusive. Rest even more so.

The pets (four cats and Dog) do their best. They know something's changed and they're all trying to provide as much comfort as they can. Dog seems the most confused; he whines a lot and lies as close to me as he can get. He wants more attention than usual.

The cats all respond in their own unique ways. Tramp is the most affectionate. He sits next to me when I'm on the sofa and he sleeps next to me when I'm in bed. He's always been a loving soul, but he's been even more so lately. He nudges me and gives me lots of kitty kisses and licks, something he rarely did before all this broke.

Pouncer and Climber have enjoyed being able to sleep on the bed again. Climber is usually aloof independent, but she's been very solicitous. She winds herself around my legs, sits on her haunches, and gently places a paw on my knee. She looks at me with such concern, as if to say saying, "It'll be OK, Dad. It'll be better soon." I wish I had her faith.

Even Lady is in on the act. She still spends most of her time outside (and still hisses at the other animals most of the time), but when she's eaten and is ready for some affection, she hops up and burrows into my arm with force. Whenever she can, she's on my lap, demanding to comfort me.

But in the end, I can only try to ride out the storm. I'd lash myself to a metaphorical mast, if I could, but my ship is lost and I find myself drowning in a sea of pain, loss, and despair.