retail remorse

It never fails I always end up feeling guilty ... I don’t know why I continue to do it, I guess it just seems like a good idea at the time. Maybe I do it for the brief distraction it gives me, maybe I do it because I’m bored, or maybe it’s just because I want to get out of the house. It’s shopping, I guess it could be called retail therapy, except for the fact it usually makes me feel worse by the time I’m done.

I just spent two hours and a hundred dollars at Target. All I came home with is a bunch of crap I don’t really need. I aimlessly wander around the store pushing my cart with no real direction. I don’t have a purpose for being there. I am lost, I am a zombie just walking up and down the isles. I look alive to all the other shoppers— they have no clue how dead I am on the inside.

I pass by all the holiday decorations and I think about how I will not be celebrating— screw pumpkin spice coffee creamer and cinnamon scented candles. I want to cancel the holidays from of my life forever. Holidays are about family, my family exists as a box of ashes sitting on my headboard.

I pass isles lined with wall decor and pictures frames that have quotes about “family”, “love”, and “memories”. F*uck that! I hate that generic crap. Where is the real stuff, the wall art about about pain, torture and despair. I saw a sign that said “where flowers grow hope lies,” I have a huge flower bed in my front yard, and theres no hope there.

Then I see the mens section, my heart aches ... I have no reason to venture over there. Elliott’s dead I don’t need to pick up anything for him. He doesn’t need new socks or boxers. He doesn’t need me to grab some axe deodorant or skin bracer aftershave.

I randomly find myself standing in the car care section. I have no clue how I got here. Elliott loved washing our vehicles. He would spend hours detailing them. Even though they are old he took pride in the things we owned. He took care of our things. This is a section he would be standing in, he would be staring at the Armor All  wipes and tire cleaners. I have no business being in this section, this is El’s domain. I realize where I am and It stings, I quickly grab the handles of my cart and get out of there. 

No matter where I go or what isle I wander down I cannot escape my reality. It slaps me in the face at every turn. Each row of neatly placed merchandise conjures up a thought or memory. Those thoughts and memories always lead to the same place— I am alone, my husband is gone, and shopping sucks.

shopping

My mom booked a last minute ticket to come visit me last Wednesday. For the past week she's been doing all the cooking and cleaning, all the stuff I won't do that she likes to do to help me. I think she was pretty surprised to find my fridge exactly as it had been when she left 2 months ago.  It's just full of all the drinks that people brought over when El was killed. No food, nothing nutritious, just cans and bottles, none of which I drink. She asked me if I have been grocery shopping, and when do I eat ? I just told her I eat when someone want to go dinner , and other than that I'm not really concerned with eating or grocery shopping.

I used to think that I really loved cooking.  Now I have no desire to turn on the stove or open the fridge. I realized that it wasn't cooking I loved , it was cooking for Elliott that I loved. Now he is gone so whats the point. I thought maybe I would be motivated to cook for all the people who were so generous and brought food over. Or cook dinner for the guys at Elliott's firehouse , to bake them cookies or cupcakes or something. I just can't get motivated to do it. I hate cooking and baking now. I haven't done it yet, but I'm sure I'll hate grocery shopping too.

Last week I had a minor breakdown over pepper jack cheese. I was getting some water and spotted the stupid block of cheese in the bottom drawer of the fridge. I started crying because I thought to myself "I'll probably never buy pepper jack cheese again".  It's not that I don't like pepper jack , there are just other cheeses I like better. Pepper jack was Elliott's favorite, and now I have no reason to buy it. I don't have a reason to buy any of the stuff that El liked. I mean who cries over cheese. Part of me actually thought I should just keep that cheese in there, who cares if it gets all moldy, it was Elliott's. Then sanity washed over me and I trashed it. I hate that throwing away cheese is an emotional challenge for me.

The same kind of thing happened to me at Costco, I was shopping for a new vacuum and I passed this section that had mens boxers in it. I had just recently bought El a couple packs and he really liked them. So when I saw the stupid boxers, I felt like I was slapped in the face. I don't get to buy him anything anymore. I don't need to pick up any of those little things that wives pick up for their hubby's while out and about running errands.  I hate shopping, at least the day to day normal life kind of shopping, the kind that reminds me it's just me now.