I'm having a bad day. A mad day. And that's OK.

I’m angry today. And sad. I’m fucking sad and angry today. I’m currently sitting in a food court eating deluxe Mexi-fries (which I shouldn't be eating but I am, so now I’m mad about that) and writing my feelings in a post. Lucky you.

Here’s the thing: the only thing wrong in my life is that My Favourite Husband (MFH) is dead. In the scheme of things, it’s a big one — but it’s been over a year and a half so, by now, I’m used to the fact he’s never coming back. And while that’s been the catalyst for today's mood, I have enough tools in my toolbox and enough experience crawling out of days that are 'funky' to have a self-care day — a day when I’m kind to me.

But since it’s my one day off before I go flying again, I need to get shit done: laundry, groceries and other mundane but necessary tasks. So my full day of self-love and reset isn’t going to happen; of course, I’m angry about that, too.

I didn’t sleep much last night and the sleep I did get sucked. So after coffee, I went to the pool to see if I could ditch my shitty mood. My pool workout  did not make me angry but the instructor’s playlist did. It was my idea of crappy music. It was, at that point, I realized I couldn’t put on my flight attendant smile or sunshine meme my way out of my mood. 

I tried to look at all the things that are going right — which, quite honestly, is pretty much everything — but all the things that are annoying me today are bubbling to the surface.

In an attempt to let it all out, I sat in my SUV in a parking lot and cried. Big, heaving sobs. Initially, I wasn't sure just what the hell I was crying about but the tears ran and my nose ran and the only thing that didn’t run was me. Running would be pointless as I couldn’t escape myself.

I cried because I was alone. I cried because I missed MFH. I cried because being alone sucked and I was tired of the sucking. I cried because I had found three dimes on an airplane while grooming it for the next flight and dimes were supposed to mean something — some kind of signal from a loved one and I didn’t know what the actual hell MFH was trying to tell me. And that’s when it hit me. The dimes. It’s been percolating for a few days now; the idea that MFH was trying to connect with me from the Great Beyond. There’s so much going on in my life and finding those dimes was supposed to be a check-in from him. Am I on the right path? Messing up too much?  Was it OK that I’m overall pretty happy? Those dimes were supposed to mean something but why the hell did I have to figure out the message? Just once, couldn’t he quit being so fucking stubborn and just say, “Yes, you’re doing great,” or “Yes, I approve,” or even “What the hell are you doing?” Because if he’s not going to help me out,  my 'sign' is that I’m 30 cents richer.

And there you have it. Figured this all out as I was sitting in a chair getting a pedi, writing down my day. I’d just like to hear from him. I’d like to know he’s still OK. And I’d like him to know I'm OK, too. But I don’t want to guess it. I want to know it.

Exhale. Release. The lady painting my toes is glancing up and looking at me strangely, probably because I’m typing on an iPad, crying and muttering something about dimes.

I feel better already. I feel a little more upright. I feel like there’s a ray of light peaking through. The dimes, I’ve decided, are that he’s close by and, no matter what I do or where I go, he will be with me. The dimes, I’ve decided, mean that I’ll always be loved. 

It’s OK to be angry. It’s OK to be sad. But it’s always OK to not stay where they are and to throw my head back and walk towards the sunshine.

❤️