Success, I didn’t cry in the permits office

February 9, 2011

I just cried on the way back to my car, in my car, on the way back to my house, on the way to work …

I went to get permits for my newly decided upon renovation.  It went fairly well at first, I was nervous as I don’t know what I am doing and in general it is very emotionally charged to do these things without Chris, but I was feeling a bit empowered as the first part went ok.  Then I saw that Chris’s name as well as mine were on the permit. 

Ugh.  He is still on the deed, so I guess I should have expected that, but I thought it would be what was on the application.  Then I was afraid that I was going to need Chris’s signature as well for something and then be delayed and have to take more time off work to get the deed changed, etc etc etc stupid paperwork.

So I go to the next station, where they look at the plans.  Right off the bat the guy says “Your husband made you come down here and pull the permits instead up him didn’t he?”

<Gulp>, breath being knocked out of me, little whimpy whisper “No”. 

“I bet he did”

Silence as I try to keep from crying, decide not to set the record straight and try not to think about the fact that Chris would have insisted on doing this himself  and then I would have insisted we do it together and then go out to breakfast or lunch as a way to celebrate.  Or that if I had in the end gone without Chris I would have joked around at Chris’s expense lovingly.

I manage to shove it down.  Answer his questions, remain pleasant, whatever I need to get this guy to approve the plans so I can checkout and be done.

As soon as I check out with my permits and walk out of the building, bam tears.  Streaming down. 

Thank God for sunglasses. 

This is why I have “social” anxiety.  This is why I don’t want to make certain phone calls, this is why I haven’t gotten my haircut since before Chris died (well over 9 months), this is why I don’t want to go to the dentist (last time I was there I still hadn’t changed my name to my new married name and had to listen to the congratulations) and why I avoid meeting new people unless it through my widow world (support group, foundations, online, etc).

Vomit, it makes me want to vomit.  A simple conversation with a stranger who might ask about my life (perfectly normal and 9 months ago I would have been perfectly happy to talk about my life) is filled with ticking emotional time bombs and I don’t have the energy to deal with them. 

I was hoping to escape that this morning, should have known better. 

But I got the permits.


3 Responses to “Success, I didn’t cry in the permits office”

  1. megan Says:

    the time bombs are everywhere though. Everything takes so much thought and carefulness. I’m trying to figure out how to say how annoying/impassable the obstacle has to become in order to risk the time bombs to get it resolved, but – oh. Well, there. I guess I just did. everything takes so much effort, and then so much recovery. Social anxiety – me too. Pre-exhaustion, even just weighing whether the outing is really necessary.
    One barrier down, though. You did it. Awesome.

  2. Mandy Says:

    Oh, once again, yes, yes, and a million times, yes. I’m just so sorry, M, that this is the new world in which you live. It is just so wrong. I’m glad you survived, but so sorry you had to.

  3. Suzann Says:

    This is my first visit – I am so very sorry for your loss. Getting the permit was a victory but a tough thing to have to do. I send my love and golden light across the miles between – your sister in sorrow, Suzann

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