A Damned Stupid, Blubbering Mess.

open journal

Excerpts from the first year.

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19 Oct 8:45pm. 
Saw the therapist today.  I hope this is all normal.  Sometimes I feel I’m going crazy.  She tells me I’m not.  Sometimes it’s hard to believe I’ll ever get through this.

20 Oct 9:30pm.
I wonder what my husband thinks?  I don’t want to bore him – if he asks me how I am, I guess I’m just the same.  Every day.  Nothing changes.  Will my marriage survive?  Will I?  He’s got to be tired of this.  I am.  And my kids probably wonder who I am anymore –  certainly not the Mommy they used to know.

22 Oct 10:10pm.
I always seem to do this before bed, don’t I?  What a nice way to go to sleep.  But it’s the only time I have to myself – and since I’m always thinking of it anyhow, I guess bedtime’s as good as any.  Any quiet time for me is painful.  Sometimes noise is easier – but I frustrate so easily now – I’m a real shrew.

25 Oct 9:15pm.
Going to bed early tonight.  Hope it helps.  I’m always so tired.  The therapist says grieving is hard work and wears you out.  I agree.  I could stay in bed all day most of the time if I had the chance.
Mom, I can hardly stand it without you.
Dad, I miss you so much — I try to hear your voice in my head so I don’t forget what it sounds like.  I am so terrified that I will.
Wendy, it feels so awful to lose you — you were so young and full of life — I wanted you to grow old with me and still be shuffling in the kitchen and ‘popping’ your cheek.

27 Oct Weds pm.
I didn’t work today.  Guess I tripped and fell.  I’m a mess.  A damned stupid, blubbering mess.  I’m so tired.  Maybe I’m coming down with something.  Isn’t it funny that my pen from the funeral chapel fits so nicely in my journal?  Why is that funny? Boy, if someone reads this someday they’ll probably have me committed.

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It feels strange reading these pages again.  Almost voyeuristic.  Can I be a voyeur of myself?

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StuckonZero

StuckonZero

Aging like a fine wine. ;-)

6 thoughts on “A Damned Stupid, Blubbering Mess.”

  1. It is hard to reread and relive those awful days. I tried to journal but could not. I was lost but had the home to run and the family to try and keep together. If I had not had those responsibilities, I might have lost myself. But, no; my faith did keep me from getting too close to the edge. Nevertheless, the wound which did heal has left a scar. What keeps me going is the promise of ‘absent in the body, present with the Lord’.

    1. Yes, it is. It’s difficult, but it’s good for me to revisit.
      I want to illustrate that even as far down as we were, we made it back. Whether it was responsibilities at home, diving into work, faith, family and friends or all of the above, we were able to cling to something and brave the storm.

    1. Yes, indeed. Each of us managed in our own way, some better than others. And by better, I mean healthier. When you react to grief by wanting to join the loved ones in death and putting yourself into situations where you potentially could do so — that’s not healthy. But that old cliche’ is true — time heals all wounds. I would amend it to say that it helps heal those wounds, because really, it’s more than just time. It’s love, faith, responsibility, encouragement, therapy, medication, and time. 😉

  2. It’s wonderful to know that you’ve come so far since those journal entries. I find that looking back can be an encouragement sometimes when I see how far I’ve actually come! Stay strong…

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