I'm emotional. I'm paranoid. I'm disorganized. I'm late. I forget. I'm confused. I stumble over words. I talk too much. I withdraw and don't talk at all. I cry. I cry. I cry. I feel alone. I'm a mess. Clutter follows me everywhere. I can't focus. I can't remember. I can't think.
My whole life was all about my kids. They were "it" for me from the second I discovered that I was pregnant with my oldest child. All I ever wanted to be was a mom - their mom. And then Greg died. And part of me was gone forever.
And now I need my other sons beyond reasonable expectations. They have kids and they are crazy busy - soccer tournaments for my oldest son's youngest daughter that last all day from 11:00 in the morning until 8:00 at night - The youngest works on Saturday and spends Sunday chasing two sons who are playing flag football and practicing in preparation for baseball games that will begin soon. I am grateful for text messages and phone calls on the way from one place to another.
I need for this fractured shoulder to heal (Did I mention that I fractured my shoulder?) so that maybe I can get to a game or two, see my sons and grandkids - and preserve my sanity.
Life is hard. I pretend it's not that hard, but Interstitial lung disease - pulmonary hypertension - require more and more oxygen - they make my world smaller - make it harder to breathe - increasingly harder to leave the house - harder to connect with my family - harder to connect with the world.
My therapist told me shortly after Greg died, that Grief kills. I didn't believe it then... but I sure do now. I'm a believer.
My whole life was all about my kids. They were "it" for me from the second I discovered that I was pregnant with my oldest child. All I ever wanted to be was a mom - their mom. And then Greg died. And part of me was gone forever.
And now I need my other sons beyond reasonable expectations. They have kids and they are crazy busy - soccer tournaments for my oldest son's youngest daughter that last all day from 11:00 in the morning until 8:00 at night - The youngest works on Saturday and spends Sunday chasing two sons who are playing flag football and practicing in preparation for baseball games that will begin soon. I am grateful for text messages and phone calls on the way from one place to another.
I need for this fractured shoulder to heal (Did I mention that I fractured my shoulder?) so that maybe I can get to a game or two, see my sons and grandkids - and preserve my sanity.
Life is hard. I pretend it's not that hard, but Interstitial lung disease - pulmonary hypertension - require more and more oxygen - they make my world smaller - make it harder to breathe - increasingly harder to leave the house - harder to connect with my family - harder to connect with the world.
My therapist told me shortly after Greg died, that Grief kills. I didn't believe it then... but I sure do now. I'm a believer.
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