It’s been 2 weeks since my close friend J died. During that time I have primarily carried on as normal, albeit with more crying and feelings of sadness and grief. But work has continued, my exercise and better health quest carries on, the immediate paperwork and document filing associated with someone’s passing have been handled. The list of personal bequests was fulfilled.
And today I could barely drag myself out of bed and through the shower. It was a struggle and a fight to get dressed and start thinking about going to the gym. Knowing it would likely make me feel better did not motivate me to get my ass in gear and going. The List was not especially difficult, but even the lighter weights I was using felt heavy. For the first time in a lot of months, I felt disconnected, uninspired, and completely dejected about the work. I did see my son in passing – he cruises by to use the shower after his marathon training group – and that made the sun shine again for a few moments. It was a brief fly-by, but when I get the blues this way any ray of sunshine helps.
External distractions are not really working for me today.
So I’ve wallowed. I’ve cried. I dropped and broke not just a glass but also a glass bowl that I brought home from my mom’s house after she died. I cleaned it up and cried harder, so frustrated and angry with myself. Then I got out the stainless steel cup for a glass of water because I obviously cannot be trusted with anything more fragile.
I did some listless grocery shopping for the week, came home with ice cream, ate it without any guilt or any joy either. I cried while eating it, too. And after months of no dairy and minimal sugar, I’m paying for it with an upset stomach on top of everything else.
Which makes me angry at myself, for being so ridiculously stupid and eating crap that I know is more likely to make me sick than anything else. Sparking anger is somehow better than sitting here crying over things I cannot change. Anger tends to inspire me to action, rather than lying around waiting for lighting to strike me down. Since it’s over 100 degrees again today and I’m inside the house, that lightning would have to be a self-directed strike from Mother Nature herself.
Yep, it’s been one of those kind of days. Completely unlike me anymore, I have done little other than lay on the couch reading depressing news and feeling the big giant void.
After 2 weeks, the anesthesia of shock has worn off and the malaise of grief has overwhelmed me.
I miss him so much. My world is such a smaller place without him in it, and I continue to marvel that life does go on so normally all around me.
I am mostly functional most of the time. I work hard. I exercise and eat the same boring foods over and over again. I have a lot of fun with my friends and my family. And life goes on, and mostly I’m really glad. Because to hurt this way 24/7 is beyond my ability to cope.
Until it doesn’t proceed as normal, and I have this day of wallowing in my sadness and loss and struggle to gain some ground on the concept of coping.
Practical me knows this too shall pass. But reality bites in the midst of it all.
Grief really sucks.