Whose bright idea was it to renovate our live-in house? (Part I).

I think D has been reading those "helping your partner through the grieving process" pamphlets that they insisted I take when I picked my charm with Momma's fingerprint on it up from the funeral home a couple weeks back.

Personally, I'm saying this, because he seems to be doing fairly well at trying to help me. Even when he isn't exactly sure how to handle the situation, he bites down and rides out the storm.

In other words, he essentially gives me my way in all matters, deals with my ever changing mood swings, and doesn't judge when I go through bouts of relentless crying or I think binge-drinking is an acceptable hobby to pick up and run sprints with.

With all of that being said, I would be lying if I said I too wasn't looking for something to help me "deal" with the current situation. Sure, I could put my stubborn pride away and pick up one of those grieving pamphlets myself, but I am nothing if not my mother's daughter and I just can't seem to bring myself to do it. Not that there's anything wrong with them, if it helps people cope I think that's awesome, but for some reason I just can't bring myself to do it.

Instead I read random facts online and take advice from the homeless lady at my local grocery store.

Recently though, we (and by "we" I mean D and I were talking about it) decided that a "home renovation project" would be helpful. You know, something to keep me busy and focus on other than the fact that I am alone in our house more than what I have ever been in my entire life.

You know, because who doesn't say the way to relieve stress is to live in a semi-permanent construction zone and start a home renovation not knowing how long the entire process could take? Clearly, this is something that sane people do and it's not at all me just trying to grasp at anything to keep myself from falling off the deep end.

So, this past weekend, we started. Technically, I got a wild hair and was going through one of my moods of annoyance and frustration so D and I went to Lowe's at eight o'clock Saturday night and I proceeded to get things I needed to repaint our living room and start with the refinishing of the floors.

(Because of this, I kind of think Pinterest is somewhere between my arch nemesis and a complete genius (hence the random home renovation photo ideas I keep collecting pictures of). And as you can see, the entire thing has really worn our pups out. *insert eyeroll here*)

They (and by "they" I mean people I may have read about or I might have just made up in my head and can't honestly remember) say when "processing grief" you are supposed to surround yourself with things that can give you joy. Well, as of right now I have three dogs and two cranberry colored living room walls. So, there's that.

This is going to be a long journey, but apparently, I have the time (and house) for such projects.

We got Mexican food, cake, and beer and all we had to do was watch a couple of igmos get married. ❤️

Still trying.

One month ago, I admitted that I was trying. Trying to navigate my life without Momma. Trying to get a handle on my feelings.

And frankly, here it is a month later, and I still got nothing. Don't get me wrong, I don't mean the "nothing" as in I don't have people or things in my life. I mean "nothing" in the sense of I'm still lost.

157,000% still lost. And even more so unable to wrangle in my feelings.

I also came to the realization that I'm not doing as well as what I thought I was.

You see, Momma always taught me that when devastating things happen, you hold yourself together as much as you can, that way you can be there for everyone around you that you love.

I'm not sure if she ever meant to teach me that, because she always made sure I knew I could come to her with any and every thing, but I learned it through her example.

No matter what, even when her emotions poked through, she was always the strong one. ALWAYS. I can remember that as plain as day for my entire life. That's just who she was. Ask anyone, and they'll tell you.... Lizzie is the strong one. Or, I guess, was the strong one.

Honestly, when people tell me that I look like her or act like her, I've always taken it as a compliment. To me, there has never been nor will there ever be a better woman. She was it. And like my mother, I've always prided myself on being the "strong" one. Sure, we all have tiny moments where we cry or our emotions try to peek through, but like her, I've always been fairly good at holding it in and moving forward.

Except this time.

This time I find myself at a loss for words. I can't tell people that I'm good when they ask. I can't tell Devon what's wrong when he asks me why I'm crying, because even I don't know how I feel. Trying to put it into words and not being able to is equal parts indescribable and incredibly frustrating. (I've always used my words.... another thing Momma taught me). I can't even listen to Bon Jovi, because that makes me cry.

Yes, you heard me correctly, BON JOVI MAKES ME CRY NOW.

I couldn't tell you the last time I cried this much. Probably because I'm pretty sure that it's NEVER happened. I've completely given up on wearing makeup, because it either just ends up running down my face or getting rubbed off. In truth, I'm a mess.

A total f*cking mess.
Nothing helps.
And everything is still not ok. And I still don't care for it one f*cking bit.

But, I'm trying. Because as I've said before, and I will be forever convinced of, she would kick my ass if I didn't.

Tom Holland has solidified himself as a national treasure.

Tony Stark: we need to distract Thanos
Peter Parker: say no more 🤣

Forever and always a Momma's girl. ❤️

What happened to the Hot Topic?!!?! (And our youth by extension?)

This past Sunday, D and I had to go to the mall.... against our will and better judgment, but unfortunately, there are certain stores around here that we like/want/need and they are only available there (HELP US!).

After running into Carhartt (the entire reason for going to said mall) we decided to walk around to browse a few other stores and grab a bite to eat before the insanity of weekend shoppers hit. (I decided that we needed to be there between 11:30-11:45 in the morning, and it would have been sooner, but most stores don't open until 11:00 on Sunday). We ran into a store called Nirvana (and I immediately wanted all of their shirts, incense, and posters) and then had lunch in the food court (he had a Philly Cheesesteak, I had a burrito bowl (isn't that the best part about eating in a food court?), and then we decided that it was almost time to go, but we would hit one or two shops on the way out to the car.

Which two shops did we hit? Hot Topic and Spencer's. Because yes, I am twenty-nine (so is he), but we have hilarious stories and wonderful memories about being kids (because when you're a teenager you insist on being called a teenager, but as an adult you realize you were still a kid.... whether you had to grow up sooner than most) and getting our stuff there.

I always loved the band shirts and he always loved the bondage pants.

We should have known that something was awry, because as soon as we walked up to the door a little girl (like three?) and her brother and dad came waddling out (children used to be TERRIFIED of going in there).... two steps later I noticed how bright it was in there (and I'm not talking a little bright, I'm talking BRIGHT).... got to the doorway and I heard the wailing of Carly Rae Jepsen.... or maybe it was Cardi B? Basically, it was somebody that shouldn't be played inside HT.

What. In. The. Actual. F*ck?!!?!

Sure, D had told me that it had changed over the years, but I didn't think he meant completely and that it would utterly devastate me. Instead of the dark corners that used to feel cool there are bright lights and pink EVERYWHERE. Instead of the amazing band shirts that lined every single wall there are One Direction and Ariana Grande AS FAR AS THE EYE CAN SEE. Instead of the dude that works at the counter and looks so much like a serial killer that it puts you on edge, there's A GIRL CHOMPING BUBBLEGUM AND WEARING BOWS. Instead of the shelves lined with "alternative" tv show and movie shirts and accessories there's DISNEY PRINCESSES EVERYWHERE. Seriously, it kind of looks like the Disney store at this point.

There's nothing in there that even remotely resembles the place that had once let us get out all of our angst through weird clothes, bags, posters, and accessories. It's just.... gone. And that makes me sad.

Then again, there's alot of things that make me sad lately, so maybe it's just me? But no, it might be me, BUT it's also them. I grabbed a couple of band shirts (I'm very upset that they didn't have the Ozzy I wanted in my size), that are way too overpriced and we got the hell out of there.

Needless to say, we won't be going back in there.... seriously, like ever. And I will be buying my band shirts and everything else pertaining to it online. We hit Spencer's after we left HT and perused the shot glasses, lingerie, wallets, stripper poles, hats, and buttons, had quite a few laughs and left.

Once we left there the mall was full of people and since we hate people with a burning passion, we hightailed it out of there as quick as f*cking possible, because people.... ugh.