Sharing Silence

My dog, and my cat, are the center of my universe. I prefer at this point to stay home with them. I plug away at small chores throughout the day, and I give them treats sometimes three times a day. I talk to them, cuddle them, walk Jay, and pet both of them regularly. Without Steve in my life, I am eternally grateful to my pets for their constant love and devotion. When I travel off island to the mainland for sometimes thirteen hour days, I get a sitter, and they tend to hang out most of the day. I do not like to leave them alone for more than four hours at a time, and often I prefer to leave them alone for even less than this. Whenever I leave, Jay gets a dental stick, which he loves, and I tell him I will be home soon. Sometimes it is lonely living alone, but now that I have worked through so much grief these last five months of Steve being gone, I actually prefer to be alone at home, and am seeking less distraction in activities outside of the home than before. Pretty much every day, I take a long soak in the tub. For this I have to heat up two pots of boiling water on the stove as my new water heater is so small. After my tub, in which I soak in epsom salts and sometimes scrub down with sugar scrub, I then apply medicinal oils and pot salve to my legs and knees. This helps keep me walking for an hour to an hour and a half everyday with Jay. I am more settled than I once was, and I just walk in silence listening to the birds, and leave the phone and headphones at home.

Recently, I purchased a small piece of jewelry from a local artisan that has a wolf-like etching on it. I bought it to symbolize my commitment to my dog. I hate leaving all day to travel, and sometimes this is unavoidable. My dog keeps me grounded and focused on home, place and basic wellness. A practice that I have resurrected as of late, which I did my senior year of high school when I was in a deep clinical depression, and for about three years between 2017 and 2020, are the “Morning Pages” (from Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way). It is not always easy to write for three pages in a college ruled notebook, and often one is discouraged before even getting through the first page. The idea is that you write whatever is on your mind (usually first thing in the morning). You don’t try to weave a story or discuss a topic, you simply write whatever is in your mind that very moment, and often this becomes disjointed or random. But it is therapeutic. By the end of the second page one wishes they were done, and then that third page just flows. I know this is helping me deal with depression in my current life. It is not necessarily easy being sober and dealing with immense grief. But drinking would not mend the issue. It would simply delay it. I would much rather be aware and work through the difficult emotions. Exercise no doubt is assisting me in fighting off the blues as well. My dog helps me with this. I know I am giving him what he needs, and in return, I am also giving myself what I need.

Since Steve died in late September of last year, I have sorted through and cleaned much of my household. I still have his clothes, and I do not plan on purging these items anytime soon. But slowly I have worked my way through my entire home, sorting, dusting, cleaning, and organizing. I have more to do, and it is my universe. I went through the shed lightly, but would like to do a more thorough sorting of that. I still have a file cabinet to sort through. And living with a cat and a German shepherd, one must clean regularly. One of my dog sitters has a habit of mopping my floors when I am gone, so that is a help. I could definitely clean the windows, get cobwebs, clean the fans in the bathrooms, and scrub many odd cracks and corners in this trailer where Steve and I lived together for 10 years. In no way is it perfect, but I am taking pride in trying to make it better. This helps with my sense of self esteem, provides immediate gratification, and keeps me busy. And again, I am home when I do this, and my pets greatly appreciate this.

Am I lonely? Yes, I am lonely. But strangely, this actually feels good. Am I being sadistic or masochistic? Possibly. No one compares to Steve. I miss him terribly. When I am home alone with the animals, I spend a lot of time in thought/prayer/communication with my dead partner. Whether it is a figment of my imagination, or a connection with the spirit world, I don’t really care. I feel him all around me when I am home and alone. Maybe someday another person will find their way into my life. I always have friends to talk to on the phone, family nearby, and online meetings, though I have not been going to many of those. Mostly, I have my animals and my memories, and I find that this is enough. I can be ever more in touch with my inner workings, and better work through the difficult feelings of grief, when I am alone. This is the work I must do. I have my journaling, my prayers, music, meditations, chanting, and sometimes just silence as I stare off out the window at a familiar scene that Steve and I once shared together.