Small triggers, big sobs (#1330)

Topics/tags: Autobiographical

These days, I’m generally going through life numb. I make it through the day, but I try not to feel strong emotions. It’s more a subconscious thing than a conscious thing. I don’t explicitly say I’m going to be numb. Nonetheless, when I think about it, I realize that I’m numb.

On occasion, something breaks through the numbness. Usually, it’s something that triggers me think about Michelle. And then, more often than not, tears follow. Big tears. And sobs. Even though I don’t try to keep things bottled up, they sometimes bottle up behind the numbness, and then they break out a little too explosively.

Here are a few examples.

I was talking to someone about the last half of 2024, and they said, I hope this year will be better than last. My response was, How can this year be better than last? Last year, I still had Michelle in my life. And it’s true. Losing her was hard. However, a partial year with Michelle that ends in her death is still better than a year without Michelle. In any case, after saying that, I cried. And cried some more. I’m even crying now, just writing it. I’m somewhat surprised that I didn’t include profanity in my response; I certainly did when repeating the story [1].

I know the person were trying to be helpful and caring. But I can’t envision any way in which this year, or next, or any year after can be better than last year. I had Michelle. And we got to share a lot of love. Perhaps, I hope this year is survivable. That works.

The next trigger involved only me. I walked upstairs to our bedroom. On the chair by the desk by the bed hangs her purse with her wallets sitting inside. I looked at it, and I just broke down. It felt like they sat there, awaiting a return that will never happen. Often, I sit there the same way.

Perhaps I’m good at triggering myself, because the next example that comes to mind was also self-inflicted. I was going over my shpiel [2] for the PB&J activity. And I realized that I historically say something like:

I forgot to grab lunch. When I asked my wife, she said that she didn’t have time and suggested that I bring this stuff so that I could make myself lunch. She seems to have forgotten that I’m incapable of caring for myself. Can you give me instructions to help?

I can’t say that anymore. It was never true. But now it’s blatantly untrue. As you might guess, that made me cry, too. And yes, I’m crying as I try to report on what happened.

For my last example, let’s explore another conversation. The other day, I was talking to a colleague who I haven’t seen in months. They said something like,

I haven’t seen you. I’m so sorry about Michelle. She was such a great doctor to our family.

I didn’t know Michelle was their doctor. I never knew who saw Michelle unless they told me. She did not share such information. I know she served as many people’s physician. Still, I’m always amazed to hear another colleague say that Michelle was an important part of their lives. And she was a great doctor. I feel so privileged to have been married to someone who made such a positive difference in many people’s lives. I wish she was still making that difference.

I managed not cry in response to that comment, at least not on the outside. We were in a crowded place, and I hate breaking down in public [3]. Nonetheless, as I reflect back on the situation in the privacy of my living room, the tears are flowing freely.

I don’t particularly enjoy being numb, but it’s better than being sad all the time. I don’t like it when tears are triggered. Still, I appreciate the opportunities to mourn my loss, our loss. I don’t foresee a future year that will be better than last year; I can’t even envison the possibility of such a year Nonetheless, I can hope that 2025 is survivable, both physically and emotionally, that it brings some joy, that 2026 is better than 2025, and that every year I’ll find things to celebrate.

I know many people for whom the current year (month, week, day) is terrifying. I can’t begin to compare our emotions, our sadness and fears. I hope that they, too, find 2025 survivable, and even that the year brings them some joy, that 2026 is better, and that every year brings things to celebrate.

[1] How in #### can this year be better than last?

[2] Schpiel? Spiel? Probably not the last. However, I think the c is optional. The h feels less so. Spiel is play, at least in German.

[3] Hmmm … do my musings represent me breaking down in public? Perhaps that’s more of a controlled breakdown.

Version 1.0 of 2025-02-01.