Maybe it's because I'm finally getting around to taking Chris's name off the bank account. I ran out of checks. Maybe it's because I have GOT TO get my scooter tag this weekend and I'm building myself up for some DMV related disaster. Maybe I'm just tired. I'm tired of always being tired. But this week I feel like I'm on autopilot. I get up, do the things I'm supposed to do, work hard, nod yes and no when required, get on my yoga mat, fix dinner, stare listlessly at the TV and then go to bed. Rinse and repeat. Over the weekend I cleaned my house and put the yard straight. I sat in a lawn chair with a glass of water and admired my work and thought "this is my life now". It seems so odd still and for a moment I thought maybe I dreamed it all. None of this ever really happened. Chris is out buying milk or something. Except Saturday that idea changed. Instead I began to wonder if I had made up that whole life where Chris even existed. It was almost too easy to think this way. No one I work with knew Chris. It's possible to believe I moved up here all by myself and that Chris is just a Drop Dead Fred. Each time I go in and remove him from this or that account, it's like I'm erasing him from my life. Eventually there will be no legal evidence left that we once coexisted. It was this thought that crawled into my brain that left me feeling scraped out on the inside. It's like when you take a spoon and scoop out the inside of an avocado. I am the avocado peel. Ever notice how when you stick the empty avocado shells back together, they look like a perfectly good avocado on the outside? I am the avocado peel. I look fine on the outside, but completely empty on the inside.
I mentioned to my friend Chad that I was having a hollow week. He told me not to try and fill it up with empty things and I replied back "bleh". That probably wasn't the most mature response because he read me the riot act, told me no junk food or junk TV, eat healthy and do healthy things like reading and yoga and gardening. I'm supposed to report back to him on Sunday about something I observed or didn't appreciate before. Mother Fucker gave me an assignment. I will admit that I rolled my eyes at this, mostly because these are things I'm already doing. OK, there has been a tiny amount of junk TV because well...that's all TV is any more. Also, I had ice cream for dinner Sunday night. I almost, almost, wanted to reply back that I'm doing those things and I still feel like the avocado shell. But I didn't want another assignment, that and it sounded whiny to my own ears. Part of me wants to say there's room for everything in here, junk and good. There's so much space to fill, what does it matter what it is?
Don't worry. This isn't a call for help. This is just the state of things in this moment. Next week or even tomorrow will be completely different. I'll do my assignment for Chad. I'll feel like more then the peel. Look. I can't be fine 100% of the time. It's just not possible. None of us can. So...let me be hollow this week.