today was a big day

Axl had soccer practice, so I needed to get both boys up and out of the house on a Saturday morning. It was also 80 degrees. I packed up the car with essentials – Ford’s stroller and Axl’s soccer ball, the diaper bag. Axl was going to go with my Aunt Darri after soccer, so I had to pack him up a few things he’d need for the afternoon. I got us all out the door on time and halfway to the park realized I had also showered, loaded the dishwasher, and pulled out all the laundry baskets full of shit I don’t have room for from behind the couch. The kids were fed and in clean clothes, happy and hydrated. I’d had coffee. Like… I’m doing it. I’m really doing this. I’m a solo mom. And for once the thought didn’t break my heart, it made me swell with pride.

After soccer, I came home, put the baby down for a nap, and spent a couple hours reorganizing our home. It’s not easy having 3 humans’ worth of belongings crammed into a room the size of a 2-bay garage. But Pete and I lived in a studio apartment together for a few months that was half the size so I know it can be done with a little creativity. It helps that my family has been so generous with allowing me to stash a little bit of everything all over the place. All our winter gear, the huge pile of Pete’s jackets I wore all winter because I needed them with me, and all the boys’ clothes that are a next size up went to my grandparents’. I sent a toybox full of Axl’s toys over to my mom’s house. I threw out a bunch of crappy toys and rearranged my various stacks of plastic drawers. I’m not done, but I feel like I can breathe a bit better now. I arrived here in such a grief-stricken panic that we’ve just been shoving things in corners for months on end. Now that I’m feeling a little more stable, it feels good to be taking control of my life again in little ways like this.

I left Ford with my mom and drove to go get Axl at Darri’s. I haven’t driven to her house in probably 13 years, and I never get to ride alone in the car. I listened to Ani DiFranco and noticed that I have memories and experiences in every nook and cranny of these towns. Practically every house I pass, I know someone who has lived there, or I’ve been there. I’ve shopped at every store. Those marble sidewalks have always lead me home. It’s such a strange feeling to have. I just never thought I’d be back here and now that I am it feels so much more like a gift than a prison sentence.

And then came the biggest deal of all.

I went to the grocery store.

I’ve been avoiding this since Pete died for a myriad of reasons. Firstly, the grocery store is “in town” and I’ve been completely terrified to do much driving there. I’ll just started driving through the center of town to get to my mom’s house in the last week, and besides that I’ve managed to just avoid it altogether. Secondly, groceries have been one of my biggest grief triggers. Grocery shopping was Pete’s job and he never half-assed anything. We called it “hunting and gathering” and would joke about it was his job to do that while I stayed at home to raise the kids. We had a grocery inventory to keep track of what we needed more of. We went every 2 weeks, like clockwork, and never in between. He would go out and buy everything and then bring it home and painstakingly put it away. Rinsing and cutting up all the fruit. Arranging the pantry. Stocking the chest freezer and cleaning out the fridge. Portioning the meat before putting it in the freezer. Filling lunch meat and cheese containers. He was an absolute pro. After he died, I couldn’t even go into the fridge or pantry for the first week because it was all just remnants of him and it hurt too much. That’s gotten easier, thankfully, and it now thrills me to get to cook a meal with something he bought, or even to put groceries away because I feel like I’m doing him proud.

But actually walking into a grocery store? Hell no. Not only for the emotional aspect and the driving issues, but also due to the sheer anxiety. Even in the couple years before the pandemic, I almost never left my house or saw other people. Pete took care of all the outside-of-the-house stuff, I work from home, and I had a then-toddler. Then there was quarantine, and I was pregnant, and then had a newborn, so it just made it all worse. The idea of putting food in a cart and maneuvering around people, standing in line and making small talk with a cashier, paying and getting back out to the car felt insurmountable. And with kids? Impossible.

And today I did it. And it was… no big deal at all. I drove through town without issue. I parked between 2 cars, which I haven’t attempted in 13 years. Axl and I went in and browsed and shopped. We fumbled our way through self-checkout together. For the second time in 2 days, I forgot that no one gives out plastic bags anymore and had to awkwardly shove my groceries in paper bags and then pay for each bag. It took me 4 tries to remember how to properly swipe my debit card. We chatted with the nearby clerk. It felt like the most normal thing in the world, but in the back of my mind I knew what a big deal all of it was.

On the drive home, as I once again felt no panic as I navigated the parking lot and drove home a different way than usual, I realized that all of this must mean the medication is working. I’ve been on Zoloft and a super mild sleeping pill that also helps with anxiety for maybe a month and a half, and I had no idea how much of my daily panic was running my life until it suddenly disappeared. Shit’s still hard, but it’s always manageable. I’m able to see new experiences as challenges I am excited to conquer, not things that debilitate me. Even before Pete died, I struggled heavily with anxiety over leaving the house and being out in the world. I did it when I had to, but I’d avoid it altogether whenever possible. I was able to cater to it and remain in my safe shell at home. 

But I also think that wrapping myself in that cocoon of safety for the last 5 years or so is what helped make me strong enough today to face those things. I had so much healing and growing to do, and I feel blessed every day that I did that healing and growing before I had my life pulled out from under me so suddenly. I don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t done so much work on and for myself, and now I don’t know what I ever did before medication, either. I don’t think I realized I even needed it. Even now, I fought it for a couple months even though everyone said they would help. They are helping immensely.

We had a good night at home with my mom. I love being able to spend so much time with her. I missed this. I missed my mom being my best friend. I missed driving up to my Aunt Darri’s. I missed eating dinner with my grandparents. All things I have been given in exchange for Pete. All things that are probably the best gifts I’ve ever been given. I’m constantly wondering how he’d feel about that. What he would think. I think all he ever wanted me to be was happy and that he’s glad to see me thriving. I wonder if he ever wishes he was back here.