When I think about the past 18 months, I am shocked that I have manage not to lose my mind. There are less tears, but more days when I miss him like crazy. I feel it is less about being lonely; but trying to learn about my life without him in it. It is a scary thought. I look around my room and my stuff is everywhere. In the physical it looks like I am moving forward; but in my heart I am stuck. I just do not want to be that person who is a ” Debbie downer”. I smile and and try to to be happy.
I wish he was here, I wish when we were in bed and sometimes in the middle of the night we are holding hands. I felt safe when I was with him, even when I was ready to choke him. I wish I could have that feeling again.
Is trying to move forward, and knowing that I will. Is knowing that one day that feeling of guilt of thinking that I could have done something and he would still be alive. The guilt of giving permission to go so he would not have to suffer any more.
So I will keep blogging, keep taking my meds. I will get use to the fact that there is no longer an “us” but ” me”.
It is finally making the choice to use paint and fix up the house. Looking at the bare walls just drove me crazy. This process is mixed because I do not have to consult before I do anything.