In the first couple months after my husband died, people kept telling me how strong I was. And honestly, I thought there was something wrong with me because after the first week, I hardly cried. I was almost enjoying my new freedom.
I had no one to take care of. I could read and write and journal to my heart’s content. I felt bad about enjoying it.
But I don’t think I was letting myself grieve properly.
Suddenly — just in the past couple days after I found out that my husband’s father was in the hospital and not likely to live for more than a month or three — I’m hit with this grief that leaves me useless.
I’m lonely and I miss him and every time I think about it a new bout of tears starts up. Just like right now. I write with tears filling my eyes. But I don’t know what else to do.
I have been crying so much over the past few days and I feel like crawling into bed and never getting out again. I don’t want to go to work and put on the happy face and deal with customers. I don’t want to tell people that I’m ok when they ask how I am because I’m not.
I don’t want to write and I don’t want to play with my planners. I don’t want to leave the house. I don’t want to eat. I just want to smoke (I’m trying to quit — or I was) and binge watch Grey’s Anatomy and eat chips and pretty much anything else that falls in my path. I could eat a dozen Timmie’s donuts right now and not blink an eye (except for when they fill with tears).
I want my old life back. I’d give up the house and the lack of car payment and the potential to make it with my writing to have him back right now. I’d give anything to have to make his lunch or breakfast. I’d happily help him with bathroom duties. I’d do anything to be able to care for him again.
I can’t even do my job properly right now because in order to be a good supervisor I have to give a shit — and I don’t. I don’t care if the staff stands around on their phones all night long. I don’t care if they do any cleaning jobs. I don’t even care if they set the tables properly or fill up the coolers. Because what does it matter when my husband is not here and I’m all alone and I have no person in my life? What does it matter.
I know that this will pass and I’ll feel better and I’ll start caring again. I know. But I don’t care right now.
Because the thought of spending another night in that big king sized bed without him beside me makes me want to cry some more.