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Once again, ladies and gentlemen... the F*** YOU thread


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This blows.

 

It both blows and sucks, which shouldn't even be possible. :(  (((HUGS))))

 

Now then... ahem...

 

Fuck every tactless twat who gushes at me, "You look GREAT, what's your diet secret???" I tell them they don't want to know, and still they press it. Fine. Step one: get a call telling you that your beloved spouse has basically dropped dead on the living room floor. Step two: stop eating for six months. Step three: gradually reintroduce food, but not food you particularly like, because nothing tastes great anymore, so you might as well eat chicken and bran flakes as anything else. Step four: walk. Walk endlessly, because your brain is so jacked up and your heart hurts so much that you can't sit still, you can't concentrate on movies or tv or books, so you walk because it's pretty much the only way to get from the alarm going off in the morning to the light being (finally!!) turned off at night.

 

Sound good? I call it the Bereavement Diet, and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. Yeah, I've lost a chunk of weight and had to buy new clothes. I do not look "great." I look saggy, sad, and defeated, because-- guess what?-- I AM. :(

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Fuuuuuuuck you to the people who offer help or say they can help when asked and then don't follow through or can't actually deliver.  And then there's the people who never offer assistance at all any more because of course everything is peachy keen here.  It's no wonder I hate asking for help so much- I put myself out there and am still left hanging. Is it really too much to ask for something to go right once in a while?  Haven't we had enough of this? FU, universe! 

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Fuck that his birthday is next week and I'm buying fucking flowers for his fucking grave instead of the cool new ham radio gadget or a new Steelers jersey or whatever else would make his eyes light up. Fuck that the birthday dinner will just be me and his mom and not a big party with friends and family. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

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  • 4 weeks later...

Fuck everyone who has an opinion about where we should be in our grief without having experienced it themselves

 

Fuck everyone who I see for the first time since Wayne's death who ask me how life is and what am I up to these days? (um..barely surviving and going crazy)

 

and finally fuck the blissful ignorance of all the happily engaged couples around me who just cant believe how lucky they are and make sure everyone knows it

 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Fuck all this shit. Fuck that fucking isn't in my fucking future. Fuck this empty bed. Fuck it all. :( :( :(

 

Not sure anyone can beat that statement in terms of "high fuck content".

 

But yeah, I'll raise a glass to that.  And again and again until the whole bottle is gone, because there's no fucking in my future either.  Sucks, right?

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Fuck that tomorrow would be his birthday

fuck that this is the first time in 27 years that I will not have him here to celebrate

Fuck that this time last year we were on vacation , one of the best ones we ever had

fuck that I am still baking his birthday cake tonight because if I didn't it would break my heart

 

 

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Fuck that tomorrow would be his birthday

fuck that this is the first time in 27 years that I will not have him here to celebrate

Fuck that this time last year we were on vacation , one of the best ones we ever had

fuck that I am still baking his birthday cake tonight because if I didn't it would break my heart

 

(((((((((HUGS))))))))))))

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OMG this. Old before our time. I feel like I've jumped right from early middle age to elderly. FUCK THAT

 

I do think that part of this young widow thing is being old before our time.

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Fuck this roller coaster. Fuck that I'm almost happy for about five minutes, then it all goes to hell again. Fuck that I have to keep visiting this thread. Fuck that I look every minute of my 41 years, and then some. Fuck that it doesn't fucking matter because no one will ever look at me again anyway. Fuck that I give and give and there is no one to take care of me. Fuck that I still need someone to take care of me, but every time I look for a rock it just crumbles.

 

FUCK. IT. ALL.

 

ETA: Is it just my morbid sense of humor, or is it strangely fitting that this is my 666th post? Fuck.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Fuck that my hair is now turning gray. Fuck that I know why-it's this stressful widow journey I've been on for the last 8 years.

Fuck my hairdresser who's becoming fucking rich because of me. Or rather, bless her for at least trying to cover it up. Fuck her for never losing her job while I'm around. Fuck that I love and hate her all at the same time.

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Fuck that I have already had to put the heat on and I forget how to work the timer thingy on the thermostat

Fuck that it is now getting dark so early

fuck that I will have to start getting everything ready for the winter which I am terrified is coming

Fuck that I am so fucking grouchy lately , I don't even like hanging out with myself sometimes

 

 

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You know what?  Fuck me.  Fuck me for being thoroughly incapable of getting my shit together, finding a job, and not being such a complete loser.  I'm tired of blaming my wife's death on my current situation; it's my fault now.  So fuck me for being so pathetic and fucking everything up.  I fucking hate this.  I fucking hate myself.

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FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fuck my job fuck this shit hole house that I paid way too much for fuck my car fuck this whole fucking state fuck me fuck ME for being a terrible mother and wife, fuck me for ever trusting anyone fuck this whole fucking ride called life that I've never been any good at I want off. I want off now.

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Fuck that it is autumn and that means getting the woodstove going to heat the house in the morning and dealing with the wood and chopping kindling and my husband did all that. It's going to be an expensive space-heater-in-every-room kind of winter.

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Fuck that it is now getting dark so early

fuck that I will have to start getting everything ready for the winter which I am terrified is coming

 

Seriously.  Game of Thrones has the whole "Winter is Coming".  I have that ominous voice in my head now all the time.  Winter is coming.  Fuuuucck. 

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Fuck that it is autumn and that means getting the woodstove going to heat the house in the morning and dealing with the wood and chopping kindling and my husband did all that. It's going to be an expensive space-heater-in-every-room kind of winter.

 

Seriously, fuck this!  I am so overwhelmed thinking about everything my husband did in the winter, FUCK winter!

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Fuck that tomorrow I have to put on a brave face and look happy while my pregnant sister marries a man with my dead husband's name. Fuck that she now gets to live the life that was supposed to be mine. Fuck that Jim's not here to hold my hand and make snarky comments about her and her groom just to make me laugh. He's supposed to be here. HE IS SUPPOSED TO FUCKING BE HERE FOR ALL THESE STUPID FUCKING MILESTONES. Instead, I'm going with my mother. At least my daughter has a date... :(

 

Oh, and fuck that NOT ONE PERSON IN MY FAMILY has apparently given a moment's thought to how hard this is for me. I know, I know, it's not about me, but goddammit-- !!!

 

We need a Mobile Wid Support Unit to show up and escort us to these events. Could someone make that happen, please?

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