The household painting has finally been completed. We picked out our remaining colours at least a year ago and it was going to be a summer task to finish it up. …..Bittersweet moment….. Just a few more small things to finish up – like the mismatched switches/sockets throughout the house that drove Mark nuts. I don’t know what I’ll do once even those small tasks are completed…. And that’s maybe only a week away. On one hand, it’s fantastic to get the jobs done and has given me something to focus on, but on the other, each of these things were for us to do together, enjoy together, and to be proud of together. It feels odd sitting here in a completed house by myself.
I miss his voice, his arms, and his warmth.
I’ve been curled up in a ball for the last few days. Unable to function. Unable to prepare meals for myself. Crying much of the time.
I took today off work for appointments… I’m in no shape to be in any professional setting today anyhow. I have finally called for an appointment to see the doctor; that’ll be later in the week. I don’t want medication, but think it’s important to have something on file there. I would also like a referral to a nutritionist so that when I’m unable to do anything, I can have some quick healthy solutions in miniature form.
Am feeling like I’ve taken a big step backwards, or multiple. I’m not sure what direction my steps are other days, but it’s clear this isn’t a forward motion.
I want to say I’m going to be strong and overcome anything….. I want to say I won’t wallow in despair….. But today is not the day. Today I’m just trying to get to tomorrow, and hoping it’ll have a little light somewhere.
Officially half a year has now passed since my husband passed.
Two friends responded with “time flies!”…. I wouldn’t say the time flew. Every moment excruciating. Just trying to make it through to the next minute, hour, day, for god knows what… seemingly for another excruciating moment to do the same.
So much has changed. So much remains the same. I still feel broken and don’t know where the pieces go; only Mark could put them where they belong… only he knows the depths of my heart.
I have been trying to be open to positive moments, as few or far as they may be… I need some in my days. It still feels wrong to have any positive moments, to smile, or even laugh without Mark physically with me… But the darkness is too much to handle. And it is thick.
I spend much of my time alone, I watch a lot of tv, and I play a lot of mindless games to stay occupied. I find myself randomly speaking with people when I go out, just for contact… I have become one of those…
Where do we go from here.
I can’t even imagine. You are literally one of the toughest people I think I have ever met
The above message was sent to me a week or so ago and I still question it. While I read your posts, I believe that I see the strength in them, yet at the same time fail to see the same in myself.
….what about this is strength? Is it simply getting out of bed in the morning? How can someone broken into a million unrecognizable pieces present strength when it’s simultaneously being stomped upon by what remains?! Is simply being alive considered strength? In the roughest moments, I am continually told that all that is expected of me is to keep breathing. The next step up is simply to eat whatever I can to sustain myself whenever I’m able to do so. …I repeat, what part of that is strength? Strength, to me when looking at my situation, would be the ability to end the pain. The ability to escape.
I do what I do in the day because I cannot bear to scream and bawl and heave at every moment. It’s what I end up doing at some point every day anyway….. 178 days straight of crying. 178. Yet apparently the epitome of strength. Well hallelujah!
Day 175… 25 weeks… One week until half a year… Almost 6 months…
There are no words to describe.
I’m sitting here unsure of what to even type… It’s all so unfathomable still, let alone all that has happened since.
I still feel I’m running on autopilot; just keeping occupied to make it through the hour or day. No idea what the point of anything is anymore. I don’t know what difference anything makes in the end.
… I know you want me to be okay. … But the hard fact is that I’m not okay. … I don’t know how to be okay because there’s nothing ‘okay’ about this.