The Overscheduling-Because-I-Need-To-Be-Busy Complex

Well. Nothing is going on. Everything is going on. Something is going on.

The village of Kohler is pretty much afraid to leave me alone. (That's not a hint to stop calling me! Keep calling!) I have taken several people up on offers to have dinner with their families, hang out, or do things together, because right now I'm sort of afraid to be alone. If I'm alone I'll get to thinking. If I get to thinking I might start to cry. If I start to cry I might not recover.

So, in an efficient effort not to be alone or think, I've scheduled myself into a slew of activities that allow me to focus on everything else except the fact that Jim isn't here. We've had dinner with people almost every night. I've signed up for two Bible studies - which, given my background, is hysterical. (Although I'm learning, so that's a healthy diversion.) I've signed up to be an editor for the school's Wellness Committee. I signed Jake and I up for Mom and Tot swim lessons. I'm on the Patient Advisory Committee at the Vince. We have playdates in the new basement. Even my time to grieve is "scheduled" - I'm working on a Grieving Journal, reading books about mourning (good to know that some of my things are completely normal) and creating a list of new things to read or do. The only tv I'm watching is The Bachelor. Last night after Bible study my friend Susan (who watched the kids so that I could go to this Bible study) organized the sympathy and memorial cards for me.

No matter how hard I try, I cannot avoid the fact that he's not here. Yesterday a water main broke on our street. (I didn't know that kind of thing went on in Kohler but apparently there was a rogue pipe they didn't know about...) After the water main broke they fixed it, but there was the distinct smell of sewage in the basement. I, of course, assumed that we'd all be dead by morning due to some sort of noxious gas released by sewage. But today I worked up the nerve to call the village and they gave me a fix (pour water down the drain in the basement).

Things that are the hardest for me right now:
1. Jim's old jobs. The ShopVac cheated me out of a good cleaning session the other day and I got furious and yelled at Jim. Then I felt bad for yelling at him.
2. Making any kind of phone call that I don't want to make, which is every phone call. But mostly the ones to some kind of business where I have to schedule something, ask for something, stand up for myself, or assert myself in any way. I'm too tired to do that right now.
3. Remembering anything outside my name or my kids' names. I've always been flakey in the memory department - I'm at borderline dementia.

Things that I've had success at so far:
1. Making phone calls that I haven't wanted to make.
2. Figuring out the ShopVac issue.
3. Our wireless router pooped out two days ago. Having wireless is a big treat for me. Unfortunately, Judi and Jim set up the wireless router so I didn't know how to fix it. But I did fix it. Admittedly, my dad is here and he helped me. BUT, we are both of Ferguson descent (read: un-handy) so I count fixing the router as a major success.

Things I'm planning to tackle in the near future:
1. The pumpkin patch.
2. Carving pumpkins.
3. The life insurance company.
4. Visiting with our insurance agent.
5. Meeting with a financial advisor.
6. Making phone calls. Or at least picking up the voicemail more often than I am now, which is every 2nd day or so.

All of the above are things I would have done easily with Jim here. All of the above are things that I don't want to do alone. I've asked my dad to attend several of the meetings with me. Truthfully, I felt like a sap asking him to come with me. But here's how I figure it: when we get distressing news at the doctors office, they typically advise us to bring someone else with us that can hear things that we'd miss because we're stunned. So it's like that. My dad is my second set of ears, and he'll catch the things I might miss. It's just that it's much more socially acceptable at this age to go with someone who didn't raise you. At least I haven't moved in with them. Yet.

The mourning book I'm reading is *really* interesting - it turns out that I'm completely normal. Even down to the rarely-crying factor. And the memory loss. Since I've determined that this is grieving, I'm giving myself permission to take everything one day at a time. I count each small success or phone call as a major break. Unfortunately I'm rewarding myself with Snickers bars (thanks, Aimee!).

The last few days have been busy and scary and emotionally draining. But we're pulling through. Rachel isn't showing signs of becoming an axe murderer. Yet. That might come after we move in with my parents. Tee hee.