Four months today since Greg died.
It feels like a minute.
It feels like forever.
It doesn't feel like four months.
Chills - fever - tears - hopelessness. Welcome to the 4th of the month.
I don't know anything today. I'm confused - slow moving - unsure.
I felt this coming yesterday - tried to tell myself that I can choose not to fall into this well of sadness. I'm trying. My head is above water, but barely.
Two soccer games today - the first one at 10:00am - the second one at 11:30am. I left on time - got to the first game on time, but by the time I parked, unloaded my oxygen machine and carried it to the back of the car, unloaded my scooter, put the oxygen on the scooter, shut all the doors on the car, and made it to the soccer field, I was almost 10 minutes late. I had plenty of time - on most days, I'd have been five minutes early - but today every movement feels painful - I'm moving in slow motion - fighting myself.
Everyone left the first game quickly to get to the 2nd game. I was late leaving the first game and by the time I got to the 2nd game I was at least 20 minutes behind. It feels like I'm winding down - going slower... and slower... and slower...
I don't want to go. I don't want to see 'people'. I just want to hole up in a dark room by myself. But I love these kids and don't want to disappoint them.
And then again, my mind spins. Am I kidding myself? They like it when I come to their games. Would they notice if I didn't? They might.
Am I just creating a 'scene'? Loving grandmother shows up at soccer games and grandchildren run up smiling. She hugs each sweet child in turn, telling them how much they're loved. Am I spinning stories in my mind? T
Have I spent my life spinning stories in my mind? Have I actually lived my life or have I lived a story I made up? I have a feeling that the truth is far from what I thought it was. Was it all just an illusion? I doubt anything in my life that feels real. It could be just another story.
I created a story of importance in the people's lives that I love. That story is not true. I hope that I'm not a burden, but in some cases, I think I am.
What I'm living now is not the story I wrote in my head. Truth has caught up with me and demanded that I stop the stories and face the shambles of the life that I created - for myself and the people I love.
This is not how my story for Greg ended. In my story, Greg got sober and went on to live a happy, productive life. Oh! I had details, too, but they don't matter. That was not reality. It was just a story I made up. How did my story help his life?
It didn't.
It feels like a minute.
It feels like forever.
It doesn't feel like four months.
Chills - fever - tears - hopelessness. Welcome to the 4th of the month.
I don't know anything today. I'm confused - slow moving - unsure.
I felt this coming yesterday - tried to tell myself that I can choose not to fall into this well of sadness. I'm trying. My head is above water, but barely.
Two soccer games today - the first one at 10:00am - the second one at 11:30am. I left on time - got to the first game on time, but by the time I parked, unloaded my oxygen machine and carried it to the back of the car, unloaded my scooter, put the oxygen on the scooter, shut all the doors on the car, and made it to the soccer field, I was almost 10 minutes late. I had plenty of time - on most days, I'd have been five minutes early - but today every movement feels painful - I'm moving in slow motion - fighting myself.
Everyone left the first game quickly to get to the 2nd game. I was late leaving the first game and by the time I got to the 2nd game I was at least 20 minutes behind. It feels like I'm winding down - going slower... and slower... and slower...
I don't want to go. I don't want to see 'people'. I just want to hole up in a dark room by myself. But I love these kids and don't want to disappoint them.
And then again, my mind spins. Am I kidding myself? They like it when I come to their games. Would they notice if I didn't? They might.
Am I just creating a 'scene'? Loving grandmother shows up at soccer games and grandchildren run up smiling. She hugs each sweet child in turn, telling them how much they're loved. Am I spinning stories in my mind? T
Have I spent my life spinning stories in my mind? Have I actually lived my life or have I lived a story I made up? I have a feeling that the truth is far from what I thought it was. Was it all just an illusion? I doubt anything in my life that feels real. It could be just another story.
I created a story of importance in the people's lives that I love. That story is not true. I hope that I'm not a burden, but in some cases, I think I am.
What I'm living now is not the story I wrote in my head. Truth has caught up with me and demanded that I stop the stories and face the shambles of the life that I created - for myself and the people I love.
This is not how my story for Greg ended. In my story, Greg got sober and went on to live a happy, productive life. Oh! I had details, too, but they don't matter. That was not reality. It was just a story I made up. How did my story help his life?
It didn't.
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