I know I should not be a recluse and hiding under bed covers is not going to make everything better. But all the same, meeting people has become a chore. I was never the outgoing kinds anyway, but then I didn’t really care what people thought of me/ my company. And G more than made up for my lack of social skills. Now I don’t have that luxury anymore.
Everyone has been really kind, spending time with me, talking to me, trying to take me out. But I feel like i’m being a wet blanket. It’s just wrong to expect me to be happy right now. Still I laugh, and participate in conversations more than I ever did. I am trying more new things – bowling, salted lime water, staying awake the whole night in a cloud of smoke – perhaps to fill his place too. It exhausts me, and the mask is off as soon as I have a minute to myself.
Another problem is that I have no control on my tears anymore. They come anytime, unbidden. And then if I am sitting with friends, a sort of gloom descends on everyone – they don’t know what to do with me. So I grab a few tissues, a sip of water, and laugh it off – just the thing my counsellor told me not to do.
Now I am headed to Jaipur, my hometown, where a gaggle of relatives is to be met. They will look at me with sad eyes, expect me to cry, voice meaningless words of sympathy – I will cringe. I know everyone means well. I know there is nothing to be said. And I know everyone wants me to move on.
It’s just a question of my pace or theirs!