I am someone who loves sunny and bright days. No, I don't just like them. I require them. My state of mind dictates that I need to see the sun and feel warmth for me to be my normal cheerful self. I was severely disappointed when I noticed that it was all gloomy gray skies this morning because I know that means I'm going to struggle with my mood, with my emotions, and it means that I'm going to feel a hurt inside that I don't fully understand and that I can't stop.
I sometimes wonder if it means that I'm an emotional fraud because I don't naturally feel upbeat and happy though I'd guess that most people see me that way. I just don't feel that way all the time and I struggle mightily with my mood. I have to force myself to slap a smile on my face and see the half-full glass. Sometimes I'm successful, but other times the effort is impossible and all the joy in the world still leaves me aching.
I know that my only hope was to be distracted or to get my circulation going so I tried to get out with my boys and get in some exercise. I really did. I pulled out walking shoes and actually was holding socks in my hand at one point. The wind kicked up just a little and the trees moving in the breeze caught my eye. The movement kept me looking out the window and, before long, I noted that the melancholy weather mirrored my heart. I sighed heavily and sat down, hugging my boys to me and desperately trying to not cry in front of them.
Thankfully, we had some things going on today and it kept the sadness away for the most part. I may feel empty inside, but I'm not going to start weeping in front of a contractor or in front of my son's teacher. That's actually one of the ways that I know it's not depression. . .I still have a slight measure of control and I can force myself to get out of the house.
When we arrived home, my son brought me a flower that he picked from our front yard and I gave a hollow smile with a quiet murmur of thanks for the gift. I stared at it as he scampered off, thinking that I was holding something that had been living and was now dead in my hand. It was considered lovely, but was pulled and tugged on until it broke and it died. He regularly picks these flowers and I know that it will begin to close and shrivel up before the afternoon is over. Usually I put them in a shallow bowl of water, trying in vain to keep them open and looking pretty. Today I'm just staring at it, wondering if I'll notice the minute that it begins to change. . .the very moment that it goes from looking vibrant and alive to looking withered and dead.
Trying to keep my shit together is such a delicate balance and one that is so easily disrupted. As soon as I'm able, I want to grab my shoes and get out. If only it were possible to outrun these feelings. This melancholy is tiresome.
Showing posts with label sadness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sadness. Show all posts
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Happy 10th Un-iversary
Happy un-iversary to me! Today would have been my tenth anniversary had I not somehow found the good sense to flee my first marriage. I'm a little surprised that it has already been ten years. I would have bet money that it was only a few years ago that I first walked down the aisle to completely give myself to another human being. It really is true that the years seem to fly by as you grow older. . .
What about that marriage? I went from being optimistic about the future with the person who is my ex-husband to having my spirit so totally crushed and broken that the only way to escape the pain was to drink myself unconscious every night. I rapidly became the very definition of a highly functioning alcoholic. I would think about drinking when I wasn't drinking and I started drinking from the moment I walked in my front door until I blissfully passed out at night. There reached a point where I didn't even bother with a glass because it was just one more thing that I'd have to clean and it wasted time to pour. Eventually, I simply disappeared upstairs with my booze and didn't go back downstairs until it was time to go to work in the morning.
I did little more than work, laundry, housecleaning, cooking, and hard drinking. More than hating him, and I burned with a furious hot anger toward him, I hated myself. I hated my life. It was only natural that my mind frequently dwelled in the darkest places one can go and my introspection only led me to one conclusion.
I hated my own cowardice that all I could bring myself to do was fondle and mouth my cocked revolver. How I longed for the guts to pull just a little more on that trigger! I can still recall the weight of that gun in my hand, the fear that it might slip and I'd only receive a non-fatal wound. That led me to snake the weapon down from my temple, across my cheek, and pushed firmly into my open mouth. I'll never forget what that cold metal barrel felt like resting on my tongue, against my teeth and lips. It's something that I hope to never taste again.
Being full of "her body, her choice," I felt it was my right to take a life that was in my control - my own. Thankfully, there was another option - divorce - and I took it. I've often referred to divorce as "the atomic option" and it really is. . .every now & then it's necessary to drop an atomic bomb. Sure, it burns you too and leaves you suffering with radiation poisoning, but it beats the hell out of the casualties associated with fighting a more traditional marital war.
Interestingly enough, I knew from the wedding night that I had made a huge mistake. And that is all I will say on that. I realize now that it would have been easier to simply annul the marriage the following Monday, but I am not a quitter and I hate failing so I tried my best to stick it out. I figured that I could make it work. In my naivete, I didn't realize that it takes more than just one to make a marriage work.
I lasted until December 30, 2002. That's the day I reclaimed my spirit and I filed for divorce. I was so miserable being married that I swore I would never do such a stupid thing again. I wasn't swearing off men, of course, I just wasn't going to tether myself to them and was definitely going to keep my options open. That lasted exactly one date. . .that's all it took for me to know that my hubs was someone special, someone to cherish, someone to love. Yes, I married my rebound guy.
I find it odd that I cried the day that the State of California recognized the dissolution of my first marriage. I wasn't sad that I was divorced; I was sad that I had failed. I sobbed in the arms of the man who I would marry just two short years later. Hubs didn't judge me for my tears and he actually encouraged me to continue processing the grief that accompanied the loss of that marriage.
I must confess that I do kind of have mixed feelings about this being what would have been my tenth anniversary. That's not to say that I regret my decision to burn that marriage to the ground. It's just that I realize my happiness with my hubs and our son would have never been possible had I not suffered through that dark and helpless period of time. I don't think that I could have appreciated what a wonderful man I married had I not first married a less-than-wonderful person. The years have allowed me to look back and give thanks for even that misery. . .it is so true that everything - everything - can be used for good.
What about that marriage? I went from being optimistic about the future with the person who is my ex-husband to having my spirit so totally crushed and broken that the only way to escape the pain was to drink myself unconscious every night. I rapidly became the very definition of a highly functioning alcoholic. I would think about drinking when I wasn't drinking and I started drinking from the moment I walked in my front door until I blissfully passed out at night. There reached a point where I didn't even bother with a glass because it was just one more thing that I'd have to clean and it wasted time to pour. Eventually, I simply disappeared upstairs with my booze and didn't go back downstairs until it was time to go to work in the morning.
I did little more than work, laundry, housecleaning, cooking, and hard drinking. More than hating him, and I burned with a furious hot anger toward him, I hated myself. I hated my life. It was only natural that my mind frequently dwelled in the darkest places one can go and my introspection only led me to one conclusion.
I hated my own cowardice that all I could bring myself to do was fondle and mouth my cocked revolver. How I longed for the guts to pull just a little more on that trigger! I can still recall the weight of that gun in my hand, the fear that it might slip and I'd only receive a non-fatal wound. That led me to snake the weapon down from my temple, across my cheek, and pushed firmly into my open mouth. I'll never forget what that cold metal barrel felt like resting on my tongue, against my teeth and lips. It's something that I hope to never taste again.
Being full of "her body, her choice," I felt it was my right to take a life that was in my control - my own. Thankfully, there was another option - divorce - and I took it. I've often referred to divorce as "the atomic option" and it really is. . .every now & then it's necessary to drop an atomic bomb. Sure, it burns you too and leaves you suffering with radiation poisoning, but it beats the hell out of the casualties associated with fighting a more traditional marital war.
Interestingly enough, I knew from the wedding night that I had made a huge mistake. And that is all I will say on that. I realize now that it would have been easier to simply annul the marriage the following Monday, but I am not a quitter and I hate failing so I tried my best to stick it out. I figured that I could make it work. In my naivete, I didn't realize that it takes more than just one to make a marriage work.
I lasted until December 30, 2002. That's the day I reclaimed my spirit and I filed for divorce. I was so miserable being married that I swore I would never do such a stupid thing again. I wasn't swearing off men, of course, I just wasn't going to tether myself to them and was definitely going to keep my options open. That lasted exactly one date. . .that's all it took for me to know that my hubs was someone special, someone to cherish, someone to love. Yes, I married my rebound guy.
I find it odd that I cried the day that the State of California recognized the dissolution of my first marriage. I wasn't sad that I was divorced; I was sad that I had failed. I sobbed in the arms of the man who I would marry just two short years later. Hubs didn't judge me for my tears and he actually encouraged me to continue processing the grief that accompanied the loss of that marriage.
I must confess that I do kind of have mixed feelings about this being what would have been my tenth anniversary. That's not to say that I regret my decision to burn that marriage to the ground. It's just that I realize my happiness with my hubs and our son would have never been possible had I not suffered through that dark and helpless period of time. I don't think that I could have appreciated what a wonderful man I married had I not first married a less-than-wonderful person. The years have allowed me to look back and give thanks for even that misery. . .it is so true that everything - everything - can be used for good.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
The Christmas Letter - II
Here is the Christmas letter I never sent out last year. No photos, of course, unless you'd like to see some awesome pics of our family. Let me know if you'd like to see some pics and I'll send them via e-mail. . .I have an entire year of my lil' guy and his super-cute photos.
"We ended 2009 full of promise and hope, sure that 2010 would be our year. Sometimes life just doesn't work out the way we expect. This year has been wildly difficult and, as a result, this Christmas letter is far more somber than one I'd normally write.
Where to begin? For starters, it's important to say that Bill, Heather, & (our son) are all enjoying good health at the moment. Our family is together and healthy and that is really the most important thing in life and it's what we are most thankful for every year, but especially this year.
We've attended eight funerals this year; we lost close friends, Bill's last grandparent, and, most painfully, we suffered the loss of Heather's only brother who died unexpectedly at age 41. One of Heather's family members endured six surgeries this year and very nearly passed away on two different occasions. There is a particular type of turmoil on two fronts that has been on-going since early this year and there is little chance for a rapid resolution.
It might sound like this has been a terrible year for our family. And, yes, it has been very difficult at times. Our faith has been challenged often in 2010. But these challenges have only served to push us closer to God, to lean on Him, and seek comfort in the shelter of His loving arms. I find it hard to say that I'm thankful for the pain that we've suffered this year, but I am thankful that I can always fall on my knees in prayer when I can't possibly stand on my own two feet - and 2010 brought many days just like that.
Our little (our son) is 2 1/2-years old now and, if we do say so ourselves, he is so smart and adorable. He was fully potty trained just before his second birthday and he transitioned out of the crib soon after to help curb night time accidents. His verbal communication isn't always clear, but he has a lot to say and he's become quite the chatterbox. Of course, being a typical toddler, some days are better than others. Most days are a joy and Heather stays busy taking him to playdates, pre-pre-school, and other activities with friends.
We are very happy to announce that (our son) will get a sibling next year. Yes, after 19-months of trying, Heather is eight-weeks pregnant. This baby has already brought us such happiness and we're eager to meet the final member of our family next August. (We lost this baby in the first trimester. . . )
If I've learned anything in this year, it's that life is fleeting. We might not see you as often as we would like, and some of you we haven't seen even once this year, but we still do care about you and want you in our lives. In the end, nothing else matters except the love we have for and demonstrate toward each other.
We end 2010 full of promise and hope, sure that 2011 will be our year.
* * *
"We ended 2009 full of promise and hope, sure that 2010 would be our year. Sometimes life just doesn't work out the way we expect. This year has been wildly difficult and, as a result, this Christmas letter is far more somber than one I'd normally write.
Where to begin? For starters, it's important to say that Bill, Heather, & (our son) are all enjoying good health at the moment. Our family is together and healthy and that is really the most important thing in life and it's what we are most thankful for every year, but especially this year.
We've attended eight funerals this year; we lost close friends, Bill's last grandparent, and, most painfully, we suffered the loss of Heather's only brother who died unexpectedly at age 41. One of Heather's family members endured six surgeries this year and very nearly passed away on two different occasions. There is a particular type of turmoil on two fronts that has been on-going since early this year and there is little chance for a rapid resolution.
It might sound like this has been a terrible year for our family. And, yes, it has been very difficult at times. Our faith has been challenged often in 2010. But these challenges have only served to push us closer to God, to lean on Him, and seek comfort in the shelter of His loving arms. I find it hard to say that I'm thankful for the pain that we've suffered this year, but I am thankful that I can always fall on my knees in prayer when I can't possibly stand on my own two feet - and 2010 brought many days just like that.
Our little (our son) is 2 1/2-years old now and, if we do say so ourselves, he is so smart and adorable. He was fully potty trained just before his second birthday and he transitioned out of the crib soon after to help curb night time accidents. His verbal communication isn't always clear, but he has a lot to say and he's become quite the chatterbox. Of course, being a typical toddler, some days are better than others. Most days are a joy and Heather stays busy taking him to playdates, pre-pre-school, and other activities with friends.
We are very happy to announce that (our son) will get a sibling next year. Yes, after 19-months of trying, Heather is eight-weeks pregnant. This baby has already brought us such happiness and we're eager to meet the final member of our family next August. (We lost this baby in the first trimester. . . )
If I've learned anything in this year, it's that life is fleeting. We might not see you as often as we would like, and some of you we haven't seen even once this year, but we still do care about you and want you in our lives. In the end, nothing else matters except the love we have for and demonstrate toward each other.
We end 2010 full of promise and hope, sure that 2011 will be our year.
"For unto you is born this day in the City of David
a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord."
Luke 2:11"
Aw, well, we lost that darling baby. . .one day, God willing, we will give our darling boy a cherished sibling.
Aw, well, we lost that darling baby. . .one day, God willing, we will give our darling boy a cherished sibling.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
The Christmas Letter
As I have done for the last several years, I'd like to send a Christmas letter to friends and family. Most years, I have no problem writing a fun and upbeat (I think) letter to let our loved ones know what's going on in our lives. I'm having an impossibly difficult time writing the Christmas letter this year.
We attended eight funerals; including close friends, my husband's last grandparent and, most painfully, my own brother. One of my loved ones has had six surgeries this year and very nearly died on two different occasions. I have never mentioned it in this blog, but there has been a particular type of turmoil on two fronts that has been ongoing since fairly early this year and I don't see the situation ever improving very much - if at all. After a tenancy of more than three years, I lost my condo's tenants and have yet to find new tenants to rent out my condo. For the first time in our entire married life, my husband and I slept apart. . .this probably doesn't mean anything to anyone else, but it is a huge deal to me.
I am finally pregnant after 19-months of trying to conceive and, quite honestly, that has been the one bright spot this year. After a solid year of sadness, sorrow, and frustration, God has blessed my husband and me with another child. And, yet, there have been challenges even in this joyous blessing that still aren't completely resolved at this time.
I've been mentally writing this Christmas letter for weeks, but I just don't know what to write about this year because what I have so far reads like the world's biggest pity party. I'm seriously considering just sending out a generic note saying, "Merry Christmas" with our latest family pictures because I can't seem to write anything that would be uplifting to anyone.
Do you write a Christmas letter? What do you write about in years that are remarkably challenging?
We attended eight funerals; including close friends, my husband's last grandparent and, most painfully, my own brother. One of my loved ones has had six surgeries this year and very nearly died on two different occasions. I have never mentioned it in this blog, but there has been a particular type of turmoil on two fronts that has been ongoing since fairly early this year and I don't see the situation ever improving very much - if at all. After a tenancy of more than three years, I lost my condo's tenants and have yet to find new tenants to rent out my condo. For the first time in our entire married life, my husband and I slept apart. . .this probably doesn't mean anything to anyone else, but it is a huge deal to me.
I am finally pregnant after 19-months of trying to conceive and, quite honestly, that has been the one bright spot this year. After a solid year of sadness, sorrow, and frustration, God has blessed my husband and me with another child. And, yet, there have been challenges even in this joyous blessing that still aren't completely resolved at this time.
I've been mentally writing this Christmas letter for weeks, but I just don't know what to write about this year because what I have so far reads like the world's biggest pity party. I'm seriously considering just sending out a generic note saying, "Merry Christmas" with our latest family pictures because I can't seem to write anything that would be uplifting to anyone.
Do you write a Christmas letter? What do you write about in years that are remarkably challenging?
Thursday, October 28, 2010
This is Sirius
Yes, the title of this post is a Wonder Pets reference.
I was overcome by tears when I was driving home yesterday afternoon. I was listening to The Bridge on Sirius and I was hit by a double-whammy of sad songs that made me long for my brother. I had been having a few really good days so I guess I was due to get upset over something as random as songs on the radio.
Though it is about two lovers, the opening lines of Jim Croce's Photographs and Memories immediately brought tears to my eyes:
"Photographs and memories
Christmas cards you sent to me
All that I have are these
To remember you
Memories that come at night
Take me to another time
Back to a happier day"
The rest of the lyrics are heartfelt and touching, but they don't really fit a sibling relationship. Jim Croce really knew how to write a song to stir up emotions in the listener. I'm glad that he was alive and recording back when your looks weren't the most important thing in the music industry or he probably never would have made a single album.
The second song that continued my downward spiral was Carol King's So Far Away. Everyone probably knows the words to this song, but this part made me bawl like a little baby:
"You're so far away
Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore
It would be so fine to see your face at my door
And it doesn't help to know that you're so far away"
The 70s may have been a crappy decade for a few reasons (stagflation, fashion, and energy problems), but it truly produced some of the finest songwriting and musical collaborations. Not sure what I mean on that last bit? Check out who played guitar on So Far Away for a perfect example.
I was overcome by tears when I was driving home yesterday afternoon. I was listening to The Bridge on Sirius and I was hit by a double-whammy of sad songs that made me long for my brother. I had been having a few really good days so I guess I was due to get upset over something as random as songs on the radio.
Though it is about two lovers, the opening lines of Jim Croce's Photographs and Memories immediately brought tears to my eyes:
"Photographs and memories
Christmas cards you sent to me
All that I have are these
To remember you
Memories that come at night
Take me to another time
Back to a happier day"
The rest of the lyrics are heartfelt and touching, but they don't really fit a sibling relationship. Jim Croce really knew how to write a song to stir up emotions in the listener. I'm glad that he was alive and recording back when your looks weren't the most important thing in the music industry or he probably never would have made a single album.
The second song that continued my downward spiral was Carol King's So Far Away. Everyone probably knows the words to this song, but this part made me bawl like a little baby:
"You're so far away
Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore
It would be so fine to see your face at my door
And it doesn't help to know that you're so far away"
The 70s may have been a crappy decade for a few reasons (stagflation, fashion, and energy problems), but it truly produced some of the finest songwriting and musical collaborations. Not sure what I mean on that last bit? Check out who played guitar on So Far Away for a perfect example.
Friday, October 8, 2010
One Thing Can Ruin the Entire Day
I've only left the house twice this week; once when a friend called to see if I'd be up for a quick excursion and once to go to the store for my son's Halloween costume materials. Pathetic and lame, I know.
With one part of my mind, I don't want to withdraw because I know that being around others will likely help lift my mood. But the other part seizes any opportunity to not get out so I know I'm trying to withdraw into myself. It takes a monumental effort to get dressed, let alone leave the house, and I've been clinging to any excuse to stay home.
I should be at a super-awesome playdate right now. My son loves this venue and I was actually looking forward to it all week because a bunch of my favorite people (not all though) were going. The kiddo and I woke up a little late, but I figured we could still make it and have plenty of time to have fun. So why am I at home blogging and not at the playdate?
I couldn't get my printer to work to print out a BOGO coupon to the venue. I wasn't even planning to use a coupon since I didn't know it existed until shortly before we were going to leave. Then I started to rationalize that I shouldn't go unless I had the stupid fucking coupon. Again, a coupon I didn't even know about until this very morning. See what I mean about clinging to any excuse to stay home?
I think my husband is concerned because he nags me to get out every day with our son. I don't think he understands just how hard it is for me right now. My MIL has been nagging me to go to therapy to help process my feelings and grief. I tried to explain to her that I just want to be alone and I don't think she understood. I've been nagging myself that I might as well go back to work if I'm going to be such a lazy slob because my son deserves better, he deserves to have me the way I was before.
I tell myself that I just need some alone time, but that is in such short supply these days. When my best friend and my grandmother died within three weeks of each other, I threw myself into my work. But I also made good use of my commute to and from the office. I screamed. I yelled my head off. If no one was around me at stop lights, I would throw my head back and howl out my pain with little regard to the tears coursing down my cheeks. Sometimes I would pull over in an industrial area I drove through and alternately scream and cry.
Some people heal with quiet meditation, but I'm a screamer. I think that primal screaming is a psychotherapuetic relic of 70s and 80s, but I find that having the freedom to shout leaves me feeling refreshed. It drains away tension and somehow quiets my mind.
So one stupid thing has wrecked my entire day. . .and all I want to do is scream out my pain and frustration.
With one part of my mind, I don't want to withdraw because I know that being around others will likely help lift my mood. But the other part seizes any opportunity to not get out so I know I'm trying to withdraw into myself. It takes a monumental effort to get dressed, let alone leave the house, and I've been clinging to any excuse to stay home.
I should be at a super-awesome playdate right now. My son loves this venue and I was actually looking forward to it all week because a bunch of my favorite people (not all though) were going. The kiddo and I woke up a little late, but I figured we could still make it and have plenty of time to have fun. So why am I at home blogging and not at the playdate?
I couldn't get my printer to work to print out a BOGO coupon to the venue. I wasn't even planning to use a coupon since I didn't know it existed until shortly before we were going to leave. Then I started to rationalize that I shouldn't go unless I had the stupid fucking coupon. Again, a coupon I didn't even know about until this very morning. See what I mean about clinging to any excuse to stay home?
I think my husband is concerned because he nags me to get out every day with our son. I don't think he understands just how hard it is for me right now. My MIL has been nagging me to go to therapy to help process my feelings and grief. I tried to explain to her that I just want to be alone and I don't think she understood. I've been nagging myself that I might as well go back to work if I'm going to be such a lazy slob because my son deserves better, he deserves to have me the way I was before.
I tell myself that I just need some alone time, but that is in such short supply these days. When my best friend and my grandmother died within three weeks of each other, I threw myself into my work. But I also made good use of my commute to and from the office. I screamed. I yelled my head off. If no one was around me at stop lights, I would throw my head back and howl out my pain with little regard to the tears coursing down my cheeks. Sometimes I would pull over in an industrial area I drove through and alternately scream and cry.
Some people heal with quiet meditation, but I'm a screamer. I think that primal screaming is a psychotherapuetic relic of 70s and 80s, but I find that having the freedom to shout leaves me feeling refreshed. It drains away tension and somehow quiets my mind.
So one stupid thing has wrecked my entire day. . .and all I want to do is scream out my pain and frustration.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
The Dark Shadow Has Descended
This is a rare post where I hope that no one reading this can relate whatsoever. Don't worry; I'm just in a dark place right now. I know that I'll pop back up eventually and, in the meantime, I'm trying to fake it until I can make it.
At times in my life, I have felt like a dark shadow is smothering me. My anguish has taken the form of this dark shadow. Lightness and joy are blocked. It rolls in and out like waves and I'm drowning in it right now. I hope the tide turns soon.
I hate that darkness has returned to my life and brought horribly scary thoughts. I can't bring myself to say just what things I've been mulling over today. I keep trying to turn my mind to other things and it's hard because it feels like evil thoughts are being whispered directly in my ear.
I've been trying to put one foot in front of the other, but it was too hard to get up today. I had a nearly sleepless night and I battled a migraine for around eight hours. This darkness has been having its way with me for around 24-hours. I feel drained. I don't think anyone can possibly understand how I feel and that leaves me aching with loneliness.
My son is enrolled in a mommy & me pre-preschool that started today. I couldn't bring myself to go. Instead, I moped around the house. Uncharacteristically, I didn't even bother to get out of jammies until around noon. The weird thing is that I wasn't crying or anything, I simply didn't have the energy to do anything except what is required to care for my son.
I'm tired, but I can't sleep and I just lie on the bed while staring into space. I'm hungry, but I can't eat and all but the most sweet or salty foods taste like ashes on my tongue. I'm sad, but I can't cry and I often find myself shaking with silent sobs.
I'm flat, dull. I feel broken. I know that one day I'll feel like myself and I'll be restored. That day can't come soon enough.
At times in my life, I have felt like a dark shadow is smothering me. My anguish has taken the form of this dark shadow. Lightness and joy are blocked. It rolls in and out like waves and I'm drowning in it right now. I hope the tide turns soon.
I hate that darkness has returned to my life and brought horribly scary thoughts. I can't bring myself to say just what things I've been mulling over today. I keep trying to turn my mind to other things and it's hard because it feels like evil thoughts are being whispered directly in my ear.
I've been trying to put one foot in front of the other, but it was too hard to get up today. I had a nearly sleepless night and I battled a migraine for around eight hours. This darkness has been having its way with me for around 24-hours. I feel drained. I don't think anyone can possibly understand how I feel and that leaves me aching with loneliness.
My son is enrolled in a mommy & me pre-preschool that started today. I couldn't bring myself to go. Instead, I moped around the house. Uncharacteristically, I didn't even bother to get out of jammies until around noon. The weird thing is that I wasn't crying or anything, I simply didn't have the energy to do anything except what is required to care for my son.
I'm tired, but I can't sleep and I just lie on the bed while staring into space. I'm hungry, but I can't eat and all but the most sweet or salty foods taste like ashes on my tongue. I'm sad, but I can't cry and I often find myself shaking with silent sobs.
I'm flat, dull. I feel broken. I know that one day I'll feel like myself and I'll be restored. That day can't come soon enough.
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