tgif

It’s been a long week. You expect certain days when you’ve lost someone. There are dates that you know from the beginning that will strangle you from the inside, pressing at your mind, suffocating your thoughts, and forcing your carefully controlled reactions to overflow in copious amounts of mood swings and tears. You don’t expect the little things – like breaking the last brush in the house and having to open his toiletry bag to get the one you know is there, with strands of his hair still attached because you don’t have time to go to the store for a new one. Or using the last of his tube of toothpaste.
It’s the unexpected, random things and days that really, really suck.

I had a complete meltdown saturday night/sunday/monday. Despite my normal state of not sleeping, I retreated by telling the kids I had a headache, and slept for about 24 hours with only a couple hours of random wakefulness during sunday/monday. I still feel bad for it – but had it was the only way i could cope with the darkness that was swallowing me whole. They don’t seem any worse for wear, in fact they likely don’t remember it at all. The older two are quite capable of watching the pup and It wasn’t like I didn’t wake up when they did need me and tend to them. And they got to control the TV remote without my grumbling. So guilty irish woman inside me – shut up already. (that never works. just so you know. heh.)

Got a txt message from TBF wednesday night asking if I was ok. Finally got tired of typing on phone pad, and called – helped tremendously just to hear him. We figured it was just a delayed reaction from the beginning of the week. Course, now I know it may have been premonition.

So what is it that stopped me from calling him this morning? Stupid movie made a random comment ‘He was 43’ and i heard ‘He was 33’ and that, with a realization that nothing I have smells like him any longer, not his pillows, his clothing, anything – was all it took. 3 hours later, puffy-eyed and covered in used tissues and exhausted, and I’d stopped myself from calling and waking TBF up 80 gazzillion times. It was 3-4-5am, but he yells at me for not calling no matter what time it is.

So here I am. 30 minutes of sleep before the alarm went off. Eyes hot, puffy, scratchy. Abs aching. Body screaming for rest. And I can’t make *any* connection to day, time of day, anything that set this breakdown off other then watching a stupid movie and not even really hearing what was said because I was attempting to drift off to sleep.
I guess – it’s just one of *those* days.

*Those* days suck.

(Yes, I’m basically ok. I know it’s all part of the process. The process – btw – also sucks. No need for panic. Or interventions. Or drugs. [Although… heh. j/k] Or phone calls. Specially not phone calls, cuz soon as the pup’s off to school, I’m going to sleep. So – Nana, Auntie – I’m alright. Don’t panic. Sometimes, even my strength and control crumbles, s’all. Few hours sleep and I’ll be fine [And we all know what fine means – Fucked up, Irrational, Neurotic and Emotional.] and back to normal.)