Jen

I feel like I'm drowning in sadness. If this is what I can look forward to for the rest of this miserable existence, I guess I'll be stuck here till I finally get to die. BAG? I don't see that in my future. So, selfishly, I think you should be able to stay here as long as you need to.

(((Maureen))) I haven't been able to post much lately, but I've been thinking about you. You really are in inspiration, though that may be cold comfort. Thank you for being here and sharing your journey.

((((((hugs))))))) I am so sorry.

I'm an introvert, and have always been accustomed to doing things on my own-- movies, meals, hanging out at Starbucks. It never bothered me, because I knew I could go home to my sweet homebody dh when I was finished with my "me time." Now it's the default-- I'm always alone, and there's no one waiting at home for me, and I feel so self-conscious all the time. It's irrational, I know, but I feel as though people are watching me, gauging every move I make-- I have no idea why. I don't stick out any more now that I did before dh died, but now I'm acutely aware of my every move, and sure I'm wearing a big scarlet W on my chest. I'm like Jess-- functional (most of the time), but far from optimal. I don't know when-- or, realistically if-- that will ever change.

(((((Hugs)))))) from here too... I'm not okay, either.

Wall-staring-- yes, I do that a lot. On weekdays when I don't work, I get up at 6 to get the kids off to school, but once that's accomplished I usually just go back to bed. I don't sleep, I just... stare. At the wall, at the window blind. At nothing. Eventually I make myself get up and go for a walk, or put on a load of laundry, or empty the dishwasher. Guess my next project will be to learn small engine repair-- I need to mow the yard (and I actually like mowing, it's therapeutic for me), but the !$&*(*! mower won't start. That's sort of a hobby, right? I have a couple of Buddhist friends, and they have both told me lately-- separately-- that the key to surviving this is to embrace the suffering without judging it. "Tell yourself 'this sucks,' accept that you're going to be sad for awhile, and stop fighting it." They insist that there's something worth holding on for. I wish I knew what it was, or when to expect it, because the empty grey desert of my life looks pretty endless to me.

So many hugs...

Aww, thanks! My sister is the pro, I'm just an enthusiastic amateur, but I do enjoy it. I haven't done anything like that in-- well, almost a year and a half. I do community theater, the last play I was in was summer 2013-- but I'm doing another one right now. (We open Thurs!) Maybe it's progress?

I'm home and in my stunning California Midwives Association t-shirt, which is so old and peppered with holes that it looks like I took a shotgun blast at some point... but I digress. Anyway, I actually had a fairly exciting Sat night for once. My sister just released her first album, and she had a party/gig to celebrate at a local theater. I wore a dress, hose, heels, makeup, the whole nine yards-- haven't done that in years and years-- and she had me come up and sing one of our old standbys with her. It was pretty awesome (video on FB, if you happen to be my friend, or want to be!), and I had a blast. I felt-- alive. For the first time in a long time. It was kind of amazing. Everyone remember that smiley right there-- I have no long how long this high will last, or when I'll feel like smiling again. But I'm enjoying it right now.

I can't do it anymore. Not another day. I can't push this boulder any further, I can't make it through another day in hell. I've done all I can do, I've given all I can give, and it's not enough. I'm not enough. I'm ready to go now. Please, can I just go now? I have to do it. I have to keep going-- for my kids, for the people who care about me-- for Jim, who deserved more than the 40 years he got. I still have places to go and things to see. I still have love to give. Over the next hill-- maybe there's something worth holding on for. Maybe. This is what goes through my mind every single morning. They're equally compelling. Equally true, if you will. I can't do it anymore. It hurts too much, and there's no respite, no relief. I have to do it. I'm strong, I've made it this far. Ever read any of Stephen King's Dark Tower books? There's a character, Jake, who dies in the first book but comes back in a subsequent one-- the third, I think. He's being torn in half, mentally-- he's alive and he's dead, and he can't reconcile the two conditions, which are both true. That's where I am. I'm dead. I'm alive. I'm damned. By the way, there's no need to reply here. I just needed to get this out somewhere safe. I needed to be seen. No one IRL gets it, and I don't have the energy to try to explain.

I keep a big pile of pillows on the bed so that I can hug them in the night and pretend... ((((Hugs)))))

Sometimes I think I will actually die of loneliness. That sounds like hyperbole, but there are times when the ache is so fierce, it squeezes what's left of my poor heart so tightly, that I think it will just stop it for good. And actually, I often wish it would. (((((HUGS)))))) to you-- this was a huge step. Wishing you peace tonight...

((((((((HUGS)))))))))) I wish with all my heart it wasn't the case, but I could have written this post nearly word for word. I try to avoid saying "I know how you feel," because of course I don't, no one ever truly knows how someone else feels. But you've described what's in my head almost perfectly. That's no comfort, I realize, but I can at least tell you you're not alone. I am so, so sorry. I wouldn't wish this hell on anyone. more hugs, Jen, lost in the abyss

((((Brenda)))) These people don't deserve another minute's rent space in your head! I know it's not that simple, but they need to GO. I am so, so sorry. They may be mourning as well, but grief is no excuse for cruelty. (((((more hugs))))))

Yes, exactly! Every time I get that damned boulder *almost* to the top of the hill, it rolls right back down. Lately I don't even have anything to say, to myself or anyone else. Last night I was so angry, I composed a vitriolic rant in my head, but by the time I got to the puter to type it up, all the words had fled. It was vicious, I don't know if I'd have had the guts to post it, so maybe it wasn't a great loss, but still-- I'm accustomed to at least being able to express myself. Now I can't even do that adequately. All I can do is ache from emptiness. I hate this so much. I had a life. Now I've got... a hole.

Oh, hugs, ((((hugs)))). Those sucker punches hurt like hell.

I want to run away. I want to run so far away that no one will ever find me again. I want a do over. Can we get those? Bad place tonight, sorry...

It really is beautiful... you did an incredible job. So many (((hugs))) to you.

I've been listening to Side Show, it's about a pair of conjoined twins who make it big in vaudeville (based on a true story). I identify strongly with it, from the first song ("Come Look at the Freaks") -- there's no question that I feel like a complete misfit, barely human these days. This song is the one I hear in my head, over and over, the question I can't stop asking. There's no answer, of course; maybe there never will be. I'm afraid that the ultimate reply is a final and resounding "NO ONE." Who will call to say "I love you"? Send me flowers or a telegram? Who will proudly stand beside me? Who will love me as I am?" Edited to add: I posted this in a private Facebook group that some well-meaning but sometimes clueless friends set up for me. I got this response: "Glad to see you have a song in your heart, lady!" Wow. Just... wow. Off to sob into my pillow some more...

(((((Hugs)))))) and Happy Birthday!

Likewise. All I ever wanted was to try to help. Maybe it wasn't all wasted. You still have my gratitude, and my love, always.

((((Hugs)))))

Got it in one. I've come to the conclusion that I'm nothing but a shell enclosing a black hole of emptiness and despair. I've tried to survive this hell; I've tried to help others survive it. I've failed miserably. I have nothing left to give. Thanks for the timely dose of reality. As usual, you hit it as succinctly as a slap in the face.

All my words seem to have gone on permanent vacation. Tons of ((((((((HUGS))))))))))

(((((Hugs)))))) I wish I had something better to say, but I've typed and deleted four times. Stupid useless words. More ((((hugs))))