I'll Be Your Water

Nothing to say today.  I'm just listening.

64 and sunny

Better day today.   Better doesn't necessarily mean "good".  At the moment "better" means "able to function on some level".  Tomorrow that definition might change.  That's how I roll at the moment.

I got almost 4 hours of sleep last night - possibly a record high.  I'm sure that's the biggest contribution to my "better" day.

Long way around

Part One
A long, long time ago, my husband painted the house (inside) and he asked me to paint some of the trim.  We were young and loved working on our house.  I wasn't sure I'd do a good job, but I said I'd
try.  After a couple hours of painting trim, Rich looked at the trim and this is what happened...

Carouself of life

Sometimes I feel as though I'm sitting in the center of a carousel that's moving slowly around me.  The deck of the carousel extends farther than I can see in all directions and on it - is the world - Life.  I can see sunny days - rainy days - happy people - sad people - desperate people.

I can see the world moving - Life going on all around me - circling me slowly - inviting me to hop on - just take that one step... but I can't.  I'm stuck in the middle. 

All I can do is watch...

Soccer goals and touchdowns

Football and soccer this weekend.  I didn't feel like going to any of it this weekend.  That's kind of unusual - not something I allow myself to feel.

The kids and grandkids are my lifeline.  They connect me to the world.  They are my reason to stay alive.  There are no options when it comes to going to whatever game they're playing.  I'll be there.

Gratitude and Patience

The medication helped with the pictures in my head last night.  I didn't sleep much, but the wakefulness was not because of nightmares. 

The images from yesterday are still there, but not as bright - or strong.  They've faded a little, but they're still there.

Extra session

Woowoo called an emergency session to do some PTSD work (whatever that means).  I'm not sure we were successful.  Part of the problem is my reaction to everything.

I can't go into detail about what we did - I don't think I could go over it all again and end up with any kind of sanity at all.

Flash of light

Today was a flash of light in a wall of darkness.

I had an appointment with the ophthalmic surgeon this morning.  It was 58 degrees when I unloaded my scooter to go into the office.  My kind of weather.  It was cool and crisp - cleansing.

It was a long appointment and by the time I was loading my scooter into the van again, it was 68 degrees - 10 degrees warmer - still a beautiful day.

Lack of sleep is lethal

I'm not sleeping well, if at all - and it's getting worse.  It's not unusual at all to be awake all night - or to sleep a half hour or 45 minutes - total.

That kind of Tired skews my perspective on everything. EVERYTHING.  It takes small problems and makes them huge.  It takes large problems and makes them insurmountable.   Decisions become impossible - and the few decisions I make - I question - then reverse - then decide again - and doubt.

Energy runs at a deficit.  Every step becomes a push.  Every appointment becomes a mountain.

The Storm is Over

There is an old, corny movie called "Hardball" with Keanu Reeves and Diane Lane - one that I've watched at least 5 or 6 times.  Today I made  asked Michael to watch it (when I saw that it was on, I recorded it, of course).   He agreed and so we watched it tonight.  He even liked it.  :-)

Insight

What am I learning about grief - my grief (everyone's grief is different, you know)?

I've read the "grief" list and I have a lot of the normal grief "things" like...

One Friend

I hear different meanings on different days.  So many songs that used to mean nothing - now mean something and so many songs that used to mean something - now mean nothing.

I miss my friend.

Expect the unexpected

Today was a little better - a little more... even, I guess.  Tears, but not a sea.   There was sadness, but with a lower case "s".

Not a lot of energy, but I was able to work online on my shop and get a few things done. I even cooked dinner - a REAL dinner - barbecued pork chops, sweet corn on the cob, green beans, baked potatoes, (I forgot to cook biscuits).   Okay... maybe I didn't completely cook it, but I did start it (with the intention of finishing) - first time I got that far since Greg died.  As usual, Michael picked up the pieces and finished dinner.  (My youngest son called and he's always a priority - always more important than dinner)

Gloomy Sunday

Slow moving - slow thinking day - restless.  No matter what I'm doing, I want to be doing something else - anything else.

Nights are awful - the thought of the lights going out makes me cry.  I don't know what's coming, but I know something is coming.  I try to fill my head with positive images - thoughts of my grandchildren - remembering concerts that I loved - images of the ocean - anything that might work.

Saturday distractions

It's been a tough week.  It started on the 4th and I can't seem to get past it.  I'm trying.  Really trying.

I think I mentioned before (today the fog has set in and I'm not sure what I mentioned - when - or if) that there is delicate balance between grieving and my health.  Too much grief causes increased health problems.  The changes can be permanent.

How do you manage grief?  I don't know, but I try.

Memories of my grandmother

My mother died on September 19, 1985.  She was just sixty years old - the oldest daughter, the second oldest child of four children (three daughters and one son) born to Josephine K. (Gramma Jo to me)

Gramma Jo was eighty-four years old when my mother died - and in excellent health.  She died in October, 1986 from a heart attack - just about a year after my mother died.

5 things I've learned

I have learned:

1.  That lack of sleep is my enemy.  It steals perspective and makes me unable to think clearly (which is a problem now, even with a good night's sleep).

2.  That seeing a red Silverado truck with a ladder rack makes me cry.

Three months

Three months today since Greg died.
It feels like a minute.
It feels like forever.
It doesn't feel like three months.

I can feel the date markers before they get here.  The anticipation of the date marker is almost as bad as the date itself.  This month is worse than last month.  I pray that's not a trend.

Monday meltdown

Busy day yesterday - no time to write until last night- and by evening I could barely think, let alone write.  I had a meltdown that was more physical than emotional.  I don't even know how to describe it.  I wasn't entirely present for most of the evening.

I could see and hear the television, but I remember very little of what was on.  I could hear Michael talking to me, but I couldn't understand the words.  It was frightening.  I thought I was headed for the hospital and remember telling Michael that I was afraid that if I went to the hospital, I wouldn't get out. 

Fix You

And again... old songs take on new meanings - and when I heard this one today, my heart broke all over again.