pieces of me

The thing about love, about really really loving someone the way I love Rico, is that being without him makes me feel like I am only partly here. I don't claim this in some sort of nebulous, obtuse play of words. Without him I am half of what I was - and even that half is torn into pieces depending on who asks.

There is mom me - she gets stuff done. She has to. She's strong and decisive. She keeps traditions and soothes fears and makes really good homemade mac and cheese and hot cocoa when you need that extra love. 

There is public me - the one who actually gets dressed in real clothes and takes a minute to comb her hair. She says yes to lunch dates and volunteering. She goes to choir and band concerts alone. When she thinks of all he's missing, she lets the tears fill her eyes, but never fall down her cheeks. She tells the truth when people ask how we are - but only a piece of the truth, because she is only a piece of herself. 

There is batshit crazy me. She's a piece of work. She ugly cries whenever she sees applesauce. More than once she has had a full blown physical panic attack in the grocery store. Once she had to be lifted up off the floor in the coffee aisle. She can't throw out the expired lemonade. She hits the punching bag until she cries and then keeps going until her hands bleed - but they don't even hurt because she compares everything to what's in her heart. She will likely make some questionable decisions (the first of which may have been a tattoo), but hopefully nothing too rash.

There is me that only he knows - that only he ever will. She holds the secrets of him, of us of how happily ever after was supposed to be. She knows the past and the truths, the fears and the joys. She sees so clearly but she is mostly just a sliver of who she used to be, which is a shame, because she was my favorite part of being me.

I am trying to stay curious, to say yes to the universe, but it's always a different piece of me answering - and they don't always agree. I look for signs from him, things he might use to tell to me that I'm doing the right thing - or that I've completely jacked up - but so far there are just crickets. The holidays are coming up and I get physically nauseous even thinking about them, but I know we'll be ok.

Thank you all so much for your love - for reaching out about Nika's project; for showing me how to mulch leaves; for offering Nika rides; for calling to check in on us, for the weed gummies (which is another story entirely); for turning off my outside water so it doesn't freeze and flood our house; for telling me we had to turn off the outside water so it doesn't flood our house; for holding our hands when we need it and for understanding when we don't. If you're reading this you have been a beautiful piece of this journey. Thank you for everything - EVERYTHING.