Big Arms Big issues

“I’m scared”. 

The words every man wants to hear while sharing a first kiss. I half-yelled these words on August 6, 2021, at Jason’s Ridgewood Ave apartment.  A simple night out had turned into much more, and I was scared, and I let the words out before I could filter them into something more palatable, like, can we slow down or hold on a second, or what the fuck is happening here, you’re just that dude I met at work years ago? I was a couple of tequila shots deep; give me a break. I later learned from my guy friends that this was a terribly uncool thing to say. But I’ve never been a terribly cool person, so it checks out. 

In my defense, I was scared. Jason was like the second person I’d ever kissed, and I had no idea what was happening or what I was doing. I thought we were just friends. I was new to the dating scene, as in I hadn’t been single since I was 21, and dating in college is much different than dating in the real world. Spencer and I were friends, then we went to Olive Garden for a date, then we got married. Easy peasy. 

Fast-forward eight years, and I had misjudged my current situation, and I was scared. 

People think I’m courageous. In my early 20s, during a Christian fever dream, I even tattooed “courage, dear heart” over my literal, beating heart to convince the world and myself that I was brave. For those of you who had normal childhoods, this quote comes from C.S. Lewis’s “Voyage of the Dawntreader.” In the book, Lucy and co. are headed into unknown waters. Everyone is scared that Aslan led them astray, and Lucy begs for his help. While their situation does not change, she hears him whisper “courage, dear heart” and she feels comforted. She knows she can face her fears and brave the unknown. Maybe if I channel my inner Aslan, I can get through the bullshit of my life. 

No such luck! I am a scaredy cat—like a big one, more like the Cowardly Lion in Wizard of Oz than Queen Lucy the Valiant of Narnia. I prefer my risks to be professional, not personal. I’ll sign a lease before I’ll sign a marriage license. So here I am, having taken the considerable risk of falling in love post-divorce and feeling a bit like it was a bad gamble. I never was good at poker.

I find myself scared again. And this time, Jason isn’t here to give me any reassurance. He can’t take my hand and promise me he’s here, and that’s all that matters. He can’t say we’ll get through it together. He can’t put his headphones on me and tell me to listen to a meditation to slow my monkey mind down. He can’t kiss my forehead and remind me to breathe.   

I am scared. I am so scared for my future. I’m scared for my finances. I’m mostly scared for my heart; she feels she can’t take much more of this world. I’m scared I’ll never find love again, and I’m also scared I will because who could ever be as good as Jason? I’m scared to be alone, but I’m scared to be around people. I’m scared if I start crying, I’ll never stop, but I’m also scared when I don’t cry because what does that say about me? 

I’m scared to return to Minneapolis and face the hollowness of my life. I’m scared to get in an Uber, leave the airport, and head for my lonesome apartment, not his, which was more home to me than where I actually pay my rent. (At the time of his death, Jason was actively and without my permission moving items from my apartment over to his because he knew it was stupid that I paid $1,000 a month on a place I didn’t live at just to make some sort of dying last stand about being an independent woman). 

I am scared to drive down Hennepin Ave. and see all our old spots; our Friday night date restaurant, Black Sheep, where we spent all our money on overpriced pizza and the last place we ate at together, just one hour before he passed. I am scared to eat alone. I’m scared to drink alcohol. I’m scared to travel, I can’t think of one thing I’m not scared to do. I’m even scared to use my air fryer because the Wednesday before he passed, he made a baked potato in it, and I can’t erase the remnants of Jason’s baked potato. 

I have, simply put, no fucking clue how to move forward, and I am very, very scared. So, I’ve made a list of everything I don’t want to do, everything that scares me, everything that will be a painful reminder of the life, the man that I’ve lost. Everything that I loved doing with Jason or that we had planned to do, and I’m going to do all of them because, really, what else is there to do other than do the really hard things? 

So, I present to you a semi-conclusive list of everything that is going to really, really suck. I’ve compiled them from easiest to hardest (ish) and reserve exclusive rights to add to or reorder the list, but I can’t remove an item once it’s on there—I mean business folks. Maybe I am more like Lucy than I thought. Jokes. As I write this, I am silently gathering the courage to leave my sister’s fenced-in backyard and enter the real world for an hour of yoga before I come scurrying back to my porch sanctuary. 

To clarify, I want to do none of these things, and I certainly don’t want to do them alone, which is where you, dear reader or friend or frenemy, however you identify, come in. If you want to join me on this journey, please let me know which activities you’d like to do with me. We can create new memories together. I’ll probably cry, but we will have some fun in there, too (maybe, possibly not, depends on the day and my hormones). 

Help me create a brave new world, and if not brave, a new world that is at least slightly tolerable. Let’s voyage of the dawn treader this shit. 

The definitive list of no good, very bad things that will totally suck

Go on a hike 

Get on a plane

Go open water swimming

Mountain Bike 

Move apartments

Go camping 

Go to church

Go to SK Coffee 

Go to Red Cow

Go to Rise Bagelry 

Attend a Wildflyer Award Ceremony

Give a speech

Go to the ocean

Walk around Loring Park 

Play Wingspan

Play Hive 

Finish the final episode of “Presumed Innocent” 

Drink Alcohol

Go back to where he died

Listen to Jason Isbell

Rent a scooter

Skydive

Go to Lambeau

Have a football Sunday 

Pick out a Christmas Tree 

Turn 33

Celebrate Christmas 

Go to Little Tijuana 

Go to the sauna

Go to his families cabin

Go to the North Shore 

Go to the Angry Trout 

Visit the spot we planned to elope at 

Ride a motorcycle

Go to Mortimers 

Go to Thailand

Scuba dive

Fall in Love