When Life Sucks, Grab the Small Comforts

If you can't get a hug, try a cup of tea

A terrifying leg cramp early this morning, disturbing news on the radio, and a back-wrenching slip on the icy deck started my day.

At least I didn’t break a hip. I’d still be lying on the deck.

Usually I pour my orange juice, sit in Grandma’s rocking chair, and say my prayers. This morning, I took my juice to the hearth in front of the fireplace, crouched on the bricks, and wept. My tears were my prayer, along with a few mumbled pleas for me, my loved ones, and our messed-up world.

Most mornings are better. The other day, I woke up on the couch after a rough night of hip pain. When I opened my eyes and looked out the front window, it was snowing. It doesn’t do that often on the Oregon coast. It didn’t last long, and it melted as soon as it hit the ground, but it was so beautiful it felt like a gift.

Elsewhere, cars were sliding into each other. Schools were closed, and events were canceled because we can’t handle snow and ice here, but I didn’t have anywhere to go or anything I had to do except enjoy the beauty out my window.

As I stood there, I imagined my late husband beside me, our arms around each other. I could almost hear him say, “Wow” in that warm deep voice. I felt the loss of him again. Then I shook it off and went on with my day. As I will today after I write this.

I hate the fears getting older brings. I exercise and try to eat well, but why do I keep forgetting things? Is this just a cramp or a sign of a terrible disease? Is there a malignant tumor hidden in my hip area even though the orthopedist says it’s bursitis?

While my leg was cramping, I imagined the neighbors might hear me screaming and wonder if I was all right. But I knew there were too many walls and too much distance between us.

On the news, a man not much older than me was referred to as elderly. I’m not old. Am I?

A friend was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease a couple weeks ago, and now another friend has it. God help them. Please don’t let me have it, too.

I imagined someone showing up at my door, seeing me on the hearth in my robe, my hair wild, my face streaked with tears. I imagined them coming in and holding me. But that wasn’t going to happen. Only God sees me here. Out in the world, people see my party face.

The other day, my hairdresser said I looked happy. I thought: Are you crazy? Today has been a train wreck. Nobody can see what’s going on inside us unless we tell them.

Every night, I imagine my phone ringing. It never does. I recently went twelve days without a single call on either my landline or my mobile phone. Finally, after I left a message, my brother called me back.

We had a great talk. He was fishing at the lake near his house in California while I was still in my bathrobe working on a poem. If you reach out, someone will reach back. I know that. I preach that, but sometimes it feels impossible.

The trick is to make enough strong connections that someone will call you. I’m still working on that.

This is not at all what I had planned to share today, but damn it, being alone is hard. Yes, I have 215 emails waiting for me to read. Not one of them is personal; they’re all related to work. Yes, I have meetings and church activities to attend. I need to go to the store because I forgot to buy eggs. I have a book to mail, which means another trip to the post office. But that’s not the same as standing with your arms around a loved one while you watch the snow fall.

The leg that cramped still hurts. I haven’t showered yet. Eventually I will. I’ll get back to work.

This morning, instead of my usual low-fat toast and grapefruit, I cooked bacon and eggs for breakfast and served them on my vintage ruby glass plate. I drank my Earl Grey tea from my pink Cheryl Strayed mug. Small comforts.

You need to grab the small comforts to keep yourself from grabbing the dangerous ones, the whisky, sugar, unsafe sex, pills, or knives. You take the small comforts like medicine, you pray if you can, and if none of that works, you make a phone call or get dressed and get the hell out of the house.

Look! My yard is full of birds—starlings, juncos, flickers, a Stellar’s jay . . . There’s a robin. Spring is coming. I don’t know what makes the birds show up en masse. In a minute, they’ll be gone, but I’ll take it. Small comforts.

If you need to binge on a TV show or stay in bed for a while, that’s okay. There’s no one around to disapprove. Take the small comforts and remember we can do this alone. It’s not always easy, but we can.

You might want to stop listening to the news.

Dear readers, maybe I should keep mornings like this in my journal, to be destroyed when I die, but perhaps you feel the same way sometimes. Do you have days when you just can’t face anything? What do you do? How do you work your way out of it? What helps and what does not? Let’s make a list and share it.

BTW, your likes and comments are a big help for me. Keep them coming.

P.S. Now that I’m ready to hit the Send button, I’m showered, dressed and thinking about lunch. I have the whole day to do anything I choose. Living alone has its benefits.

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How did I end up alone? My first marriage ended in divorce. My second husband died of Alzheimer’s after we had moved to the Oregon coast, far from family. I never had any kids, only dogs. Now I live by myself in a big house in the woods. You can read our story in my new memoir, No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s, available now at your favorite bookseller. Visit https://www.suelick.com for information on all of my books.