*I wrote this yesterday 10-17 around 830 am
I managed to get out of my room twice yesterday-beyond potty breaks. I started a load of clothes, made tea, started the dishwasher, then I had to go back to bed. I used 8 sporks in that fit of denial energy. I asked mom to bring me back a club with fries from Goody’s-a little place in Plainfield known for their breakfast. I ate and couldn’t muster any energy up to check on my kids. I told mom I think DB needs to take them for a week, because I’m barely functioning. I took a nap-I’m sleeping a lot, big shock there, and my dreams make no sense.
I managed to ooze out of bed around 5 or so yesterday and did parental things-like have my kids bathe and pack for their dad’s and clean up messes. I managed to wash another load of clothes AND put them in the dryer. I made more tea and chatted with a good friend about English Gentleman. *Keep up all the work there friend. I do think I can be quite a Bonny Lass 😉* My phone isn’t charging worth shit. Stupid Fucking piece iPhone. Ever since the latest iOS update I’ve had nothing but problems. Fucking Apple.
I managed to take a shower this morning and it just about drained me. I cried in there. Then I sat and let the water pool in my hand and watched it drain through the cracks in my hand and I thought about how fleeting life is. And I’m angry. I’m angry at God and all the deities for taking my best friend. I’m angry at her for leaving me. I’m angry at myself for not trying harder. But I know nothing I could have said or done would have really mattered. She was determined to no longer feel pain. But it still pisses me off. And it hurts. A deep ache that you know won’t ever heal, that will always be there. But I am lucky to have years of memories with her. But I’m still angry.
I’ve worn myself out already. I’ve taken my meds, showered for the first time in almost a week-yeah its gross, but I’ve been bombarded by loss after loss so cut me some slack-and I managed to at least get another load of laundry in the washer. Now I need a nap.
Even my dog knows I’m depressed so much so that she doesn’t leave me. Maybe even the pig knows too. All I know is I’m exhausted, and I hurt and I don’t know how much more I can take. Knowing me-it’ll be a lot more than I’ve ever seen coming.