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Because I Got Her In Trouble

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Back in January, a dear friend of mine suggested I sign up for a grief support group. She even helped me find one specifically for spouses, so I decided to take a chance and sign up.

It’s funny, because group therapy used to be such a huge part of my life just five years ago. Yet, since I left the DBT group Emily and I met in, I have mostly sustained myself through weekly individual therapy sessions without much else in the way of therapeutic intervention. But, then again, I suppose the sudden and very much unexpected death of the woman you planned to grow old with is one of those life-changing events that requires a bit more support.

Although the circumstances are very different, I guess you could say that life today feels eerily similar to the year from hell that led me to group therapy before. Of course, this time I’m in therapy because Emily is gone, whereas before, the therapy is what brought Emily into my life.

When Strangers Become Friends

At Emily’s funeral, I very candidly shared the story of how we met. I still smile every time I think about the moment I saw Emily walk into that room. Although I won’t go so far as to say it was love at first sight, I definitely felt a sort of emotional shift inside of me that day. And, even if she only did it because I seemed like the least intimidating or crazy person in the room, I definitely felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness when she sat down next to me that day.

Between August and April, that first encounter became commonplace, as nearly the exact same situation unfolded each and every week. I quickly learned that I could anticipate exactly what Emily was coming to therapy that day based on three key Emily components: her hair and makeup, the beverage in her hand, and her eyes. But, I didn’t care if happy Emily, depressed Emily, or sleep-deprived Emily sat down next to me — because I enjoyed Emily’s company regardless of her mood.

Of course, one of my favorite parts about having Emily in group was the comments she would make. Like her, I have a bad habit of responding to pretty much every situation with a terrible joke or overly sarcastic comment. Fortunately, we had both learned how to mumble those comments in a way that usually people didn’t listen. Unfortunately, because we both did this, we picked up on when the other person was doing it, which meant we heard each other’s comments all the time and laugh about them.

And, if you know me at all, you know that I do a terrible job of remaining still and quiet when I find something funny.

Emily and I got “in trouble” several times because of what became our little inside jokes. The therapist leading the group would glare in our direction, sigh heavily, and suddenly find a reason to call on one of us or ask if we were listening. It got to the point where sometimes we’d pick up on what the other was thinking or saying, and one time we even both started laughing during a mindfulness exercise because we’d just had a conversation previously about how much Emily hated that specific guided meditation.

Some weeks, the therapist would sit between us or near enough to us that we had to behave. Other weeks the therapist would catch us both hanging out in the parking lot an hour after group had ended, and she’d ask what we were talking about before she got in the car and drove away. She knew we’d become close.

Then, one week in late April of 2019, I said one thing, and it started a whole train reaction of events.

Emily and I were both also seeing the therapist who led the group for individual sessions. It’s sort of the protocol for dialectical behavior therapy, because the assumption is you’ll bring homework from the group to unpack during individual sessions, and the therapist can reinforce skills. We were also nearing the end of the final module in group, which meant I was nearing my second time through the entire program. If you do DBT “by the book,” most people either stop the group after two times through or, as recommended for people with BPD (which according to that therapist I had), you move into an advanced group.

At this point, I felt like I was doing well all things considered. I hadn’t been in the hospital for over a year, I was working at a church and a rehab facility, and I seemed to be on a good medication combo. So, during my individual session, I casually asked, “So what’s next once we finish this last module?”

The therapist gave me this confused look and asked what I meant, so I explained that this was my second time through everything, and I felt like I had a good grasp of the skills we’d covered and wasn’t sure that it made sense to do the same thing a third time. I then asked if she had any referrals for a place to go if I wanted to try an advanced group since she wasn’t offering one.

Without projecting too strong of a negative attitude towards this therapist, I’ll just say I left the session in tears and unsure of what was coming next. The next week, the therapist essentially told me she was going to be unable to continue working with me after we finished the last group session and I would need to find someone else to see individually. Of course, my individual session just happened to be right before group, so Emily knew the moment she saw me that day I wasn’t okay.

When I told her everything later, she couldn’t believe it. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have told her everything, but I trusted her and needed a friend. But, I told her, knowing that she was going to do a second round of the group sessions and still see the therapist individually.

Well, long story short, Emily did a whole worksheet about a situation where “a friend got kicked out of a group we’re both in” and how she felt about it (angry and upset). Suddenly, Emily said the therapist told her she needed to move back in with her parents because she wasn’t recovered enough to live alone. And, like me, she was left to find a new therapist.

In other words, my decision to be assertive about my own mental health care also messed up Emily’s care.

I Guess I’m Not Getting Her In Trouble Now

Okay, yes, I realize that what happened isn’t exclusively my fault. I’ve shared the story with my current therapist and, spoiler alert, she was a bit appalled about many things the aforementioned group therapist did. But, it does make for an interesting story and does make the fact that we remained friends even after our time in group therapy ended a bit more understandable.

But, between that and the fact that most people didn’t know Emily wasn’t straight until she started dating me, I feel like I got Emily in trouble a lot in the time we knew each other. But, every time I pointed this out to Emily, she’d smack me and talk about how I also was incredibly helpful to her, especially in regards to her ED recovery.

Because of me, Emily got in trouble. So, at least I’m no longer being a bad influence on her?

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Because We Love Target

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I only got four hours of sleep Monday night. Emily has been on my mind so much lately, and I can’t help but feel like she (and everyone really) is annoyed and disappointed with me. By the time the work day ended on Tuesday, I was in a headspace where I just really needed out of the house. I texted a few folks, but no one answered. So, I closed my eyes and thought, “Where would Emily go right now?”

And that’s how I ended up at Target.

I needed some pens and highlighters, so it seemed like the perfect option. Yet, as soon as I walked in the door and heard two people chatting in the One Spot, I felt the tears. I spent a while just wandering the aisles and reliving memories because, as the title says, we loved going to Target.

Target Is A Magical Place

I don’t know what it is about Target, but I swear just walking around in the store cures everyone. You don’t even have to buy anything, either. You can just walk through the aisles, point out interesting items, then leave hours later.

Over the years, Emily and I spent a lot of time in Target. Sometimes we’d go into the store with a specific mission in mind, while other times we’d just go for the serotonin boost only that red bullseye can provide.

Inevitably, we’d always leave with items we didn’t even know we needed. According to Emily, though, we did need the items. She’d always say, “Target always tells you what you need.” Which, in Emily speak, that meant we had to walk through every single section of the store every single time we went to Target, even if we only went in for something towards the front of the store, like a gift bag or pens.

A Target Date Night

Although I have many fond memories of Target, I think my absolute favorite experience was the time Emily and I planned a Target Date Night. We’d just started dating, and we were looking for something fun to do on a weeknight that wouldn’t require us to be out late. So, we went to the Super Target in Smyrna with this list, and told each other we’d meet back at the front of the store at a specific time.

Of course, we ran into each other several times during the shopping experience. We’d wave, blow each other a kiss, or say, “How many more do you need?” then part ways again. It was fairly hilarious, and felt like a game in many ways. Once we finished, we each checked out, then went to Emily’s apartment to share what we picked out for each other.

Among the most hilarious items were the mascara Emily bought for me as the thing she’d like me to try (I pretty much never wear any makeup), and the fact that I got both coffee and alcohol for her favorite drink. We also each picked out something pride-themed for each other, which was both comical and cute.

Goth Target

As I’ve mentioned before, Emily had a knack for planning trips. The trip we took to Chicago for my birthday in 2021 was no exception. But, of course, she found a way to work both Starbucks and Target into the trip.

If you haven’t heard about Goth Target, you should definitely look it up. Basically, it’s a Target in Downtown Chicago that has goth architecture. Inside, it’s a mostly normal Target (albeit multi-story). However, the exterior alone is enough reason to visit, because it’s really cool.

Anyway, we went into that Target just because, and still left with a ton of random things. Emily was excited about the abundance of winter weather gear, so she got a hat and some gloves. I’d realized when we arrived the night before that I’d forgotten to pack pajamas, so I grabbed those. We got snacks, a few other items, and wandered a bit before heading to the checkout.

Needless to say, I’m glad that was our last stop for the afternoon.

I’ll Listen to Target

Because of Emily, I’ve somewhat adopted the notion that Target tells you what you need. For example, I saw a snow globe in the store shortly after she died, and I just had to buy it. Sure, I didn’t need to spend money. And sure, it could have waited. But it was staring me in the face and I could just feel something inside of me saying, “Buy it!”

I’ll admit, it’s not easy to go into places that hold so many memories. However, I also know that I’ve remembered things related to Emily about pretty much every single store or restaurant I’ve thought about walking into since October 19, so I can’t let that stop me from enjoying Target.

But, because of Emily, I might start leaving the store with at least one impulsive buy every time I visit. I know she won’t mind.

Because She Ran on Coffee

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My sleep has significantly improved over the past few weeks. However, I still experience mornings that are harder than others. Last Thursday was such a day, and boy was it a doozy. But I had a busy day ahead, so I pulled into the Starbucks drive thru after I took the kids to school.

At first, it was all ordinary. I ordered my “usuals.” Then, the woman said, “And what else?” A normal question. But just hearing that made me think back to all the times I had stopped and ordered coffee for the both of us.

My voice cracked as I said, “No, that’s all.” I felt the tears begin as the woman handed me my iced chai. And by the time I pulled out of the parking lot, I was full-blown sobbing. It may have been a bit dramatic, but I couldn’t help it because coffee always makes me think of Emily.

She Always Had Coffee

When Emily and I were in DBT group together, I quickly noticed a pattern with how she’d enter the building each week — always a coffee in hand. Sometimes it was in a travel mug from home, sometimes it was from Dunkin’ or Starbucks, and sometimes it was from a gas station. But, no matter where it came from, it was always coffee.

As Emily and I became friends, I learned that coffee was literally Emily’s fuel. It didn’t matter if it was 8:00 in the morning or 4:00 in the afternoon. She’d have a coffee in her hand or gladly accept one if it was offered.

However, her fatal flaw was not that she drank a bunch of coffee, but rather how long it took her to drink it. I would sometimes see her nurse the same cup of coffee for four or more hours. My favorite moments were the ones where she’d end up with two coffees for this reason.

Coffee Mug Mornings

I remember the first time Emily spent the night. I remember it because the next morning, we sat at the table, sipping coffee and smiling. I kept looking at her and grinning from ear to ear because I still couldn’t believe she was actually interested in me. Yet, there she was, smiling right back at me.

Throughout our relationship, we spent many mornings drinking coffee together. Sometimes, like on the Saturday mornings the kids were at their dad’s, we’d sit on the couch in our pajamas (which meant Emily was usually just in one of my t-shirts) and sip coffee while we watched a television show or just talked. There were other days when we’d grab coffee together through a drive thru or I’d make her coffee to go as she headed out the door for work.

On Sundays, Emily would never finish her coffee before it was time to leave for church. So she’d take her coffee mug into my car and continue drinking it while I drove. Of course, this meant that the coffee mugs would pile up in the floorboard until I took them inside, but it made me laugh nonetheless.

Even when we traveled, we made time for coffee. I remember when we went to Chicago, we grabbed coffee the first morning we were there and sat to drink it as we looked out at Lake Michigan. When we went to Melbourne, Florida, we grabbed coffee from a local place and sipped it as we walked along the beach and sat to watch the waves roll in and out.

Every moment seemed so simple, yet so perfect all at once. And they all involved coffee.

I Think of Her When I Drink Coffee

I know that it’s probably just the fact that her death is so fresh, but I am continuously shocked by all the seemingly minor things that make me think of Emily. It’s probably ridiculous that I can’t drink or even smell coffee without thinking of her, but that’s where I’m at. It’s just one of many things I strongly associate with her and probably always will.

I don’t go through coffee nearly as quickly now, because Emily isn’t here drinking it. But I’d give anything to sit and drink coffee with her again. Here’s to hoping there’s coffee in Heaven? I’d love to sit and watch the sun rise with a cup of coffee in one hand while my other hand holds on to Emily.

Because We Had Our Own Language

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As I drove to pick the kids up from school on Thursday afternoon, I experienced something new: a moment of laughter mixed with grief. I shared the experience over TikTok, but essentially a fire truck started it all.

As I laughed over the memory, I felt this dissonance within my heart. I love Emily and I know she’d like to see me smiling and laughing over the memories we shared. Yet, as I think about the silly ways in which Emily and I talked to each other over the years, I can’t help but also feel my heart breaking all over again.

We Called Them “Wee Woos”

If you watched the TikTok, then you already know this. But, basically, Emily and I started calling emergency vehicles “wee woos” at some point, and the name stuck.

However, we eventually took it a step further and gave each “flavor” of vehicle an adjective to distinguish it. So, fire trucks were “spicy wee woos.” As you can guess, ambulances were “medical wee woos.” And, I think police cars were “criminal wee woos.” (We talked about that one the least often.)

I don’t know if I just haven’t paid attention to my thoughts as much lately or if Thursday was simply the first time I’ve consciously thought about those terms since Emily died. Regardless, I laughed as soon as the phrase popped into my head. I even looked over to the passenger seat while laughing, and for a moment I imagined her laughing there beside me. It didn’t last long, but it was nice while it did.

Babe Language

Wee woos weren’t the only silly words for things we had going on. Sometimes, it almost felt like Emily and I had our own little language. In certain instances, it was to keep the kids from figuring out what we were saying. But, most of the time, it was just things that started with a single silly moment that became an ongoing thing we shared.

For example, we started calling each other “babe” fairly soon after we started dating. When the kids said it was too confusing for us to both be “babe,” I started calling Emily “pint-size babe” and she started calling me “musical babe.” It was cute.

To go along with that, we had statements that probably sounded completely ridiculous to anyone else, but we knew what they meant.

  • “Babe is love?” meant the person who said it needed reassurance. The other person would usually respond with, “I love my babe!” and the person who asked the question would say, “Yay! Babe is love!”
  • “Skinny desires” was a term Emily used when her eating disorder thoughts were being extra loud.
  • “Spicy thoughts” were code for trauma flashbacks or thoughts related to a past trauma, which we both had many of.
  • “Babe is want?” was usually Emily’s way of asking if I wanted to have sex.
  • “Does babe need medicine?” or “Can I have some medicine?” was usually a sneaky way to discuss edibles. (We learned early on that saying “gummies” did not work.)
  • “Gentle cuddles” was a term Emily used when she wanted me to hold her or cuddle up with her, but not in a sexual way. Usually it meant she was sad or having a hard day and just needed me to wrap my arms around her.
  • “Toaster bath thoughts” was our way of letting the other know that we were not doing well mental health wise.
  • “Grippy sock jail” was code for the psych hospital.
  • “Babe is WAP” can probably be inferred if you know the Cardi B song. Usually one of us said it to the other when they put on an especially attractive outfit.
  • “I be a blob” meant the person who said it wanted to curl up and relax. This usually involved a blanket and, in Emily’s case, meant she was going to scroll TikTok.
  • “Bad babe!” usually meant one of us did something we weren’t supposed to, but it was usually said in a playful way.
  • “Mommy juice” was alcohol.
  • “I pop babe!” meant Emily was about to pop some sort of pimple on me. (I could write a whole post just about this.)

Song Lyrics Became Sentences

I’ve discussed how much Emily and I loved music in multiple posts at this point. However, this meant that we both would randomly burst into song. I think Emily was one of the first people in my life who matched my love of turning what people say into song lyrics, and it makes my heart happy.

Some favorites in the house included:

  • I Knew You Were Trouble by Taylor Swift (usually in reference to the cat Trouble)
  • Booty by J Lo and Iggy Azalea (if you saw Emily’s butt, you understand)
  • Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol because of Grey’s Anatomy
  • Good As Hell by Lizzo (usually when we’d ask how the other was doing)
  • I Kissed A Girl by Katy Perry for obvious reasons
  • Tempo by Lizzo (often me dancing in the kitchen)

I Miss Our Special Communication

I’ll admit, there are so many things that are hard about life right now. But really, it’s little things like our ridiculous made up language that make this especially painful. You just can’t replace that level of connection with someone, and sometimes it takes longer to explain the word or phrase than it’s worth. It’s like that language we shared is just… gone.

Because of Emily, I had someone who I connected with on a level that we could communicate in so many silly ways and still get each other. And, much like our inside jokes, I miss those little conversations of lingo and lyrics more than ever.

Because She Was Always Cold

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Some friends invited the kids and I over for dinner last night. After we ate, all four of the kids (my two + their two) ran upstairs to play. As my friends and I sat in their living room and chatted, one asked the other, “Will you sit on my feet? They’re cold.”

I immediately started laughing, which left my friends wondering what was so funny. I then explained that Emily would often say and do similar things because, no matter what the weather was or what she was wearing, Emily was cold most of the time.

She Owned Dozens of Cardigans

It didn’t matter if it was July or December. If Emily was indoors, she was probably cold. Because of this, she owned over a dozen cardigans in various colors and thicknesses. She usually kept at least one at work, at least one in her car, and the rest lived in various places.

Although she had so many, it never seemed to be enough. She’d frequently “forget” where she put them (they were usually just buried under the other junk in her car), and I’d go online and order her more. I often laughed at how many cardigans she had, but she’d just rebuttal with a statement about them being part of her “future therapist uniform” and move on.

Needless to say, I found at least a few of these cardigans in her car when I cleaned it out after her death.

Cuddles for Warmth

As most people know, I live in a larger body. While this sometimes frustrates me, Emily had dozens of reasons why she loved it. Among those reasons, one was the warmth I provided.

In the evenings, Emily would frequently cuddle up on the couch with a blanket, then proceed to either stick her cold feet somewhere on my body or scooch her entire self as close to me as possible. She’d always say, “You’re so warm!” and I’d laugh.

I remember at least a few occasions in the fall and winter when we’d be walking somewhere in Nashville at night and, of course, she’d be cold. I’d usually cuddle up close to her to either shield her from the wind or wrap her up in whatever jacket I was wearing and try my best to keep her nice and toasty. It may sound silly, but it actually made me happy that I could provide comfort and warmth for her in those moments.

Sometimes as we nestled into bed for the night, Emily would scoot close to me. Again, she’d say the same, “Oh, babe, you’re so warm!” and smile. The only time I hated this was when she’d stick her hands inside my shirt because they were so cold!

Emily The Clothing Thief

Obviously, there was a significant size difference between Emily and I. She wore clothes so small that she could share items with my oldest child, while I have to shop in the plus size section. Although this didn’t work to my advantage, it most certainly worked in Emily’s favor because she could simply steal my clothes if she wanted something baggy and warm.

She’d frequently use my t-shirts as night gowns in the warmer months. In the winter, she’d immediately snatch up a sweatshirt when I took it off to put on pajamas, and she’d often sleep in them at night. The few times I pointed out that I’d worn said sweatshirt the entire day, she’d say, “It’s soft and warm and smells like you — I love it!”

Again, probably sounds silly, but seeing her in my clothes always made me smile. Yes, they looked huge and silly on her, but I knew that it made her happy and it made my heart happy to see her so comfortable and content.

More Things About Her That I Miss

It’s funny, I don’t think I really thought much of all these silly little things as they happened. But now? These simple stories mean the world to me. They were things that you see play out in silly romantic comedies or comic strips about the realities of marriage. So, when you put that spin on it, I think they mean so much to me because it’s just more undeniable proof that our relationship was exactly what I’d always dreamed of finding.

Because Emily was always cold, I have many happy, hilarious memories of keeping her warm that put a smile on my face more times than I can count. But now that she’s gone, I miss these simple moments more than anything.