empty

washingtonpost.com

I’m tired, depleted, empty, out of whack,  like a snake skin left behind on the sand. An empty chrysalis; emotionally, spiritually, physically, tired. Done in, not viable, not functional, empty and depleted.

And I don’t know what to do about it.  If anything.  “They” say it takes time – this mourning stuff. And I get it, but then I don’t.  I really want to move on - but then why?

I know what he would want for me – to live – have a life – travel – enjoy the small stuff and the beauty and the wonder. We talked about this – but I’m tired. And I can’t recall ever feeling this less alive.

All of the things I need to do because he is gone; paper work, insurance, finances, etc. etc. etc….ad infinitum …..I’m barely able to manage.  I’m tired.

There is not enough wine in the world to make this better. And maybe that’s what’s so hard – that there is no one to help with the necessities of dealing with the idiots at the various agencies and organizations that are supposed to be here to help. Yet in all fairness, some things have gone well, but patience is not my number 1 virtue – and so I rail against what is not yet settled.

I’d still be in bed if it weren’t for Hunter (the dog, no less!) wrapping himself around my head in the morning and licking my face, ‘it’s time to feed me, Seymour!!’

An I having a solitary pity party? Maybe – but nevertheless, I’m tired.

And if I’m this tired now, how will I feel 3, months, 6 months, 12 months from now? I don’t even want to know.

In today’s paper is a section called “Celebrations.” Anniversaries, milestone birthdays, engagements, etc. of the local people.  And it was an ‘in my face’ moment… We will never be in the paper celebrating another anniversary or milestone birthday – not his anyway – and I certainly wouldn’t do it for myself.  Not ever again.  And so, tired, drained, depleted, empty? Yes. And at the moment there is not a damned thing I can do about it.

And I wonder – how would he be doing if the situation were reversed?

If I died first? What would he be doing now? Today? Tonight? Would he be hitting the brandy? Not sleeping well? Eating next to nothing? Who would he call, if anyone, to help? I have no idea.  It doesn’t really matter – it’s just mental masturbation………with no purpose.

The ‘what ifs’ don’t solve anything… actually makes matters worse………. And so I need to stop the gymnastics.

But I’m tired - empty – depleted -  diminished – cried out and not cried enough.  Pity party? Maybe, but that’s where I am tonight. And there is not a damned thing I can do about it…