I decided a while ago that the anniversary of The Kid leaving us was going to be significant. That once it was past, I would feel better, less angry, less hurt.
The feelings were in my head, so deciding that they were going to change on a certain date seemed perfectly reasonable. So now that the anniversary of that ridiculously crappy week is past, have I experienced all sorts of healing?
Eh. I dunno.
I've started seeing a homeopath who started me on some drops for my PTSD. That's helped quite a bit, and I'm not obsessing over the events of that week, or other lousy, horrible, why is everything so fucking hard events that occurred in the weeks leading up to that week. We tried so hard to be a family, and then we weren't.
And as we were packing up the pieces, we also had to sift through the sodden rubble at my parents' house, and help my relatives figure out if organizations handing out money were legit, or trying to steal Sandy victims' personal info (they were legit), and bringing whatever material comforts we could (we made grilled cheese sandwiches for my parents, as we were heroes).
So a year later, what's left? Physical scars, of course. Emotional scars? Well, I may smack the next person who spouts platitudes at me, but I'm feeling a certain absence of anger. Because I decided it would be gone by now. Because there's no point anymore. Because a horrible thing happened - a series of horrible things happened - and there's no changing that. Because it was inevitable, given The Kid's background and the complete cluelessness of the social workers who were supposed to be supporting us.
But there are kids who do want to be part of a family without fighting every second of the day. There are excellent social workers out there who don't undermine and sabotage placements. I'm ready to believe that things will work out next time.
So I guess, yeah. I'm feeling better because I decided to be. Thanks to everyone for being so supportive and thoughtful.
We also had our wedding anniversary this week. That's right - the shit hit the fan with The Kid the day after our fifth wedding anniversary. Maybe that's why I gave this first traumaversary so much weight - we had to move the hell past it so that it didn't color every wedding anniversary afterwards.
We went shopping at Target, which is a rare treat for us, but is totally normal for most of you. On the way there (on the subway), it was like we were riding the covered wagon into town, discussing the random items that we were going to get. A wall mirror. Slippers. A skillet.
I remember back before the big box stores when you couldn't buy slippers and a mirror at the same place. It still seems unnatural to me. His Awesomeness also scored a pair of Batman boxers with detachable cape. He has already run around the bedroom wearing them so I could see the cape trail behind him.
We were so tired after shopping that I turned to him on the way home, and said, "Do you know the sexiest thing you could say to me right now? 'Let's stay in and order Indian food.'" So we postponed our traditional French dinner (we honeymooned in Paris) and ate in. We did do the traditional watching of the wedding video.
In a couple of weeks, we'll have another anniversary - the tenth anniversary of when we became a couple. This blows my mind and also makes perfect sense because life before HA is kinda vague. I know there was a time when I wasn't surrounded by Doctor Who, but I can't quite remember it.
There is great comfort in how long this guy has been in my life, making me laugh and letting me sing him spontaneously composed songs about him. Even without a kid, we've been a family for quite some time.