I’ve stopped counting Mondays. I am usually vaguely aware that another Monday is going by, but I don’t watch the clock like I used to thinking about where I was at that time. At some point in the last month or so, I’ve stopped tracking time by weeks gone by. Now I refer to months and their fractional parts. It will be 7 months on Friday. I don’t think this is a sign of healing more that my brain can’t regularly keep track of numbers as big as 30 weeks.
Silence is the enemy these days. Memories are a blessing and a curse. It used to be that everything would hit me hardest in the car but now I find that any quiet time takes me to a place of loneliness and melancholy. I’ve been reading to fill the void – 6 books in 3 weeks if that tells you anything.
A friend shared an article she read about grieving. In it the author talks about how exhausting it is to put your “I’m doing fine face” forward to the world. I understand this. People want to know that you are doing okay. I find myself doing it all the time. A question as simple as “How are you?” usually gets a standard “fine” response. I mean who really wants to hear that it’s tough? Most days.
I know that this was exhausting for Dave. He always put his enthusiastic, positive face forward for others. He would only really show his true emotions to me and even those were guarded at times. I guess it is human nature to not want to be a burden on others. Even when sharing bad news with family and friends he would temper it by being upbeat and positive when inside he was feeling frustrated and knocked down.
I guess that I am finally at that point where outside help is an option. I have avoided counseling and support groups (shudder) at all costs. The idea of sharing my experience and having to talk about everything makes me feel queasy. I talk about Dave all the time – what he would say or think, what he did say or do. But I am loathe to really revisit those last days/months/years or my feelings about them. I have shared in this space more than anywhere else and that has been helpful, I think. But it is probably time to call in the professionals – for their expertise and maybe for their prescription pad.
It is not that I am not functioning. My to do list is getting done, bills are being paid, I am showing up at work and doing a decent job, I think. But I just don’t know how to make my heart stop hurting or how to quiet the sad thoughts in my head. Those just make me want to go back to bed and pull the covers up. I guess it is a victory that I don’t.
I know that counseling is beneficial. I know that many of you will encourage me to seek it out. Please don’t. It takes courage to make that step, and I am building up to it. One step and day at a time.