When people ask me how I’m doing, I usually give a humorous response and say something like, “I feel pretty.” That’s always been my thing. I hate the stock answers of “fine,” “good,” or “okay.” So boring. These days, however, if I were to answer that question honestly, I would say, “I feel incomplete.”
That may seem strange, but it’s true. Even when I’m in a good mood, the world feels strange. I don’t have to be having an emotional fit to feel out of place. I always feel that way. The world is just so different now. I notice so many things that have escaped me for so long. In driving my (really long) commute, I see things I never noticed before and, even though I’ve traveled the same path hundreds of times, it somehow feels different and not totally familiar. It’s a bizarre feeling and not one which is easy to explain.
I can be doing routine things, in familiar places, and suddenly feel as though I’m in a strange new place. Something is missing and my mind searches for things to fill that Cindy-sized whole in my life.
Obviously, Cindy is missing from my life. Everything in my world has changed; some dramatically and some only slightly, but everything is different. Different can be disconcerting.
So, I’ll keep smiling and saying that I feel pretty, but know, in my heart, I still feel so very incomplete. I feel like a stranger in a place I’ve lived for 25 years.