I’m sitting here on my bed, under a canopy of a crocheted blanket watching the film Baby Snakes, watching Zappa waxing poetic about the merits of Titties and Beer and appreciation of fans who have attended multiple shows. I started this film earlier in the day, as a way of immersing myself in music. Unlike most of the times I get stuck in this sort of loop of going through life covered in a film of grief, I chose Zappa this time because I didn’t start exploring his catalog until just before I turned 50. I knew I needed to stay in the present. (Besides, I still see all the synths I usually do when I dive into music that’s been a part of my soul for much longer.).

This year being the 30th anniversary of meeting Kevin has definitely made me just a little more grateful that I’ve employed a combination of SSRI’s, therapy, and Taekwondo to shore up my mental health. Plus I’ve made it a point to go to live music shows several times this year, finally doing what I never really got to last century. I found a way out of that toxic workplace and have not looked back. The way out has been a mixed bag, but a definite improvement. As I wrote to a friend earlier today, I’m going through a corridor into something better suited for me. The trip through the corridor hasn’t been easy, but it hasn’t been that bad.

Earlier this year, as part of my therapy and a desire to continue to address my complicated grief, I tried EMDR earlier in the year with some benefit. I chose significant but not emotionally heavy things to work on. That helped.

Then in August, I decided to be ambitious and try to work on one of the Really Bad Moments (RBM) that happened less than a month before Kevin died. I’m opting not to describe what happened because I don’t want to get lost in that memory. I have told less than half a dozen people about the memory. Three years ago, one of those people gained my silence by threatening to repeat the memory. As a result, RBM has risen higher in my subconscious after keeping it pretty buried for several years.

I made a little bit of progress with the EMDR session—RBM thoughts don’t haunt me as much anymore, and I can keep from getting absorbed in the memory. So that’s good. I soon realized I’d done nothing to prepare for what I might feel after the session.

Four days after the session was what would have been Kevin’s 64th birthday. Due to the job change, I though I’d be strong enough to work through it. I made it through the work day and even attended a stretching class that night—it was the last one of the series I’d signed up for.

Then, once I was home for the evening, I allowed myself to feel the sadness that had been clouding my soul that day. Queue sobbing my heart out for a few minutes. That kind of sobbing is when the emotional pain is still nearly as raw as it was since the moment Kevin’s death was confirmed. Doesn’t happen nearly as often as it did in my early 40’s. (Yay, progress!)

(Frank just jumped into a fast version of Camarillo Brillo. That certainly distracted me from focusing on those tears.)

The film of grief that’s been lingering since that last EMDR session, if it had to be described, is a little tacky in some places but can dry up in others. One day I get all these random comforting signs that make me smile because it happened, and the next I’m bombarded with songs that make me want to cry because it’s over. I also tend to be a nostalgic creature, so I have been thinking about just how much life I’ve lived since 1996. In some ways that count I’m the same—deviant but not evil. In way too many others to list, I’m older and wiser.

As for the side effects of growth? I’m proud of myself for trying to process RBM, even if it did set me back a little bit. I had to try. I needed to try. I still want to try again, but I need to actually prepare for it. Just because it’s a mental health procedure rather than a physical one doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be taken seriously. I’m not sure just how much I truly understood that before August, now that we’re into October.

Zappa’s been over for a bit, and I’ve been shuffling through music videos the algorithm’s suggesting based on the information it’s gathered about me. It’s fairly good writing music, though it does require pausing to bypass stuff I’m not quite in the mood for.

Been toying around with some fiction ideas as of late. There are a few stories I’d like to explore based on the flashes of character history and insight I’ve gotten in the past year-ish.

In fact, I think I’m going to switch over to some of that….