mixelated

So sorry about your boy. We always had 2-4 cats around, and we had 3 when T passed. I still have 2, my older daughter took the third. Buck, a big fluffy tuxedo cat rescued from a parking lot as a kitten - he's Top Cat. And Beanie, adopted from a rescue agency when Buck's companion kitten died unexpectedly. Buck was in bad shape, not eating and not moving - Beanie wasn't his special kitten, but he got Buck up and living again. About four months after T passed I adopted a puppy, a Jack Russell / doxie mix who would have been on her way to the shelter when her people moved. She's a great little watchdog and very loving, but what a handful. After decades of just cats, I'm having to learn how to dog. But she's been the best distraction and therapy ever.

Wow, I should have come back here to read and share weeks ago. I've been feeling like I've been circling the drain. But reading where everyone is emotionally (now that I'm in this 6-12 month category) is like remembering to breathe. Oh. You're all here too. Right where I am. (hugs)

Yep. Right there with everyone. I have all those loving things I would have said and time I would have spent with him, too, but the added pain is the fact that HE knew how little time we had. I look back on the last week, the last evening, and now I recognize all the little tender things he was doing and saying to say goodbye. I wish I had seen it for what it was. I wish I'd seen it, if only to be able to say how much I loved him again, if not to save him.

Yes. I can't move his hat or his clothes in the dresser, because he's going to need them, I guess. And I never bothered his stuff when he was here, so it feels sneaky to look at his stuff now that he's gone. I desperately want to know if there are "answers" in his computer, but that would be the worst invasion of privacy. Having left, does he still need or want privacy? Do I respect his space as thoroughly as I did when he was alive, or does my desperation to find "reasons" or "clues" trump that? I don't know whether to look forward to emotional acceptance or not.

yes and yes... I will literally stand in front of his pictures, which I've arranged on his desk, and ask him, "Where are you?" My head won't process it. I mean, his urn is standing on his desk, too, so the answer's there, but it still seems as though he will come home at some point. His hat on the hook by the door, his shoes in the closet. I found and listened to an audio recording of him yesterday, and that was both a huge relief ('THERE he is!') and a terrible anguish. That recording will never change... he will always say the same thing. The same for those pictures. Frozen images.

I think that's totally normal, Brenda. The person you were with her, and the person you were going to be with her, and the shared identity you had together aren't there any longer. Four months out for me, and I struggled with the same thoughts for three and a half months, and yeah, the loss of the active will to live is frightening. Feeling depersonalized is frightening. I feel less constant despair now, but it's almost despite myself. It would have been easier in some awful way to give up, but it seems that I've somehow made the choice to continue. Not consciously, because I didn't want to go on without him. But because life is going on anyway, and it's dragging me along with it. I've had a sort of a break for the last two weeks, feeling a bit more purposeful and like I have a sense of self, but the past two days I've swung back into that hollow sense of loss. I expect it will go up and down, back and forth. If you're up for it, see if doing something physical helps. Exercise, decluttering, gardening, smashing plates... hugs!

Aaaand today, I went around all day with both my shirt and sweater on inside out. Nobody said anything, including my kid. .....

Driving in this widow-fog is not good. I almost rear-ended a cop today. There's no way to get around having to drive! Any tips on how to snap out of it for the time it takes to get from Point A to Point B?? m.

I guess I'm not feeling that yet. But I have plenty of my own junk-ola, so out goes my odd n ends yarn stash. Craft material is pernicious. mix

Brenda, I'm familiar with that note of anger at myself... but try not to beat yourself up. You may be up and running, but you're still in a disoriented state. There will be a lot of things that you can't figure out, until the world rights itself a little. And I bet she would be happy that you're caring for your kids. It hurts to see someone you love not coping. (hugs) m.

Long-term mental illness doesn't always look like that. My husband had been quietly dealing with his bipolar disorder for years, unknown to me, and those years were uneventful. He was never hospitalized and I was unaware of any prior attempts. If he hadn't told me about the bipolar a few months before he died, I might not have known. I would have assumed his depression was entirely related to his chronic pain and the situation it created. He did his best to keep the bipolar from us, and he did a very good job. Unfortunately.

OK, I'm glad I'm not the only one thinking this. I don't like thinking this! but it seems outside my control at times.

Quoted this stanza elsewhere a few weeks ago myself. It fit that leaden, motionless mood perfectly. I have never been a fan of Dickinson, but now - well - I guess she knew what she was writing about. Another of those realizations that you don't really understand this level of loss until you've experienced it.

I had been keeping myself productive both at work and home. with the Bullet Journal method for about six months before my husband died. Looking at it, it's like a textbook example of a disorganizing brain event. Before: tidy lists and columns, checkmarks, thorough notes, organized progress. After: scrawls all over the page, no dates, forget the bullets, no checkmarks, days at a time skipped. I can't even remember where my bullet journal notebook is half the time.

Thanks!!