I feel like I'm in a fog today. I don't know if it's from hearing about my friend's trauma, or if it's from being tired from going away all weekend, or what, but I feel kind of like I'm barely treading water. I've got all this work to do, and I can't focus on it. I'm thinking of going home and closing my eyes and hiding under the blanket.
I'm anxious. My stomach is pumping anxiety. I'm not sure what I'm anxious over. I don't like feelings that aren't attached to something specific.
I want the night to come, for him to get off work, and for us to reconnect. I want to make sure he hasn't fallen off of the side of a mountain. I want to make sure something awful hasn't happened.
And how can you trust your gut when you're gut is so misleading? My gut is upset because my friend's wife is dead, and the story is traumatic and awful and so easy to imagine. I can imagine being him, looking back and seeing nothing. I can imagine being her. I can't imagine being either of them.
I sometimes wonder why we bother loving with the spectre of death, always looming. Why do we go out of our way to take people into our lives, make ourselves vulnerable, when horrible things can always happen? When they can do horrible things?
I wish that there were something I could do for my friend. I kind of want to bring him a lasagna or a box of chicken or something else stupid and southern. I wish I could bring him a fixed wife. I wish everything didn't feel so raw and tender.