Crossword

This weekend I felt okay, not too bad for the most part. I would say fair to partly cloudy on my grief scale. I tried to push myself to do some things I used to enjoy doing. For instance, I used to really enjoy reading the Sunday newspapers, The Washington Post and The New York Times. I read the articles and the newsy bits and I did the crossword puzzles, and if there was an acrostic I did that. My Dad always did the NY Times Crossword Puzzle when I was growing up, and I remember trying it when I was a kid, and it didn’t make any sense to me, and I tried it again and again, and finally I got the hang of it. I felt so proud of myself.

Some Sundays my Dad and I will call each other and say “Finish the Times Crossword yet?” and if the other person says “No” then the one who is finished says “Well, it’s probably too tough for you” in a very condescending way. It’s our little tradition. Anyway, I don’t remember exactly when, maybe it was around February, the crossword started to seem like work, and I just stopped doing it. It didn’t seem fun, like so many other things didn’t seem fun anymore. Just reading the Sunday papers felt meaningless. Who cares about all that crap anyway?

To try to get to the point here, yesterday I decided to try the puzzle again. To get into it, regenerate those neural pathways and spark that “aha” feeling of satisfaction from filling in those squares. (Yes, I know everyone is playing Wordle now, but I somehow missed that boat.) I did about half of it, which I thought was pretty good.

I can’t say it really stimulated my sense of relaxation and contentment. I felt more like I was trying very hard to enjoy something I should. I wonder if I’m going to have to replace all the things I used to enjoy, one by one. That’s a really scary prospect, because I have no idea what the new things are yet.

I remember feeling so content three years ago in 2020, when the world was shut down and nobody could go anywhere, and it was just the three of us at home together all time. I felt cozy and happy. I don’t remember feeling like I had no interests or searching for things I liked to do. The day was full. I guess the difference was Sarah and her needs.