My First Anniversary

On Sunday it was a year since Hal died.  I managed to get through it without hardly thinking about it by watching television.  I’d spent 10 days in Colorado visiting my sister and had recorded a lot of shows, which I watched.  As I’ve noticed before, television is a good way to keep from feeling my own feelings.

In fact, I was feeling pretty good and had considered telling my therapist that I no longer needed to see him.  However, I found myself wiping away tears on my way to his office this morning.  He’s concerned that I’m not allowing myself to grieve.  I tried, but couldn’t manage to tell him how I have longed for an opportunity to just put my head on someone’s shoulder and cry.

My therapist is also concerned that I don’t have any friends outside my clubs, that I see no one that I’m not, in some way, paying to see either through club dues, lessons, or copays for psychotherapy.  Why don’t I have any friends?  He believes that it’s because I have chosen an identity that doesn’t allow me to get close to anyone.

He’s right about that.

So here I am, on the high side of 40, overweight, friendless, unemployed, basically doing nothing with my life and not even knowing who I am.  What am I going to do with the years that I have left?  Right now I have no idea.