Never have I cried over a toothbrush, a phonebill or a two by four. Now the toothbrush means that mine has been replaced by a new one, while his will remain the same forever. The phonebill has recorded each phone call from and to the boat and now will cease to record his phone number. I can see that his last phonecall was to me. The two by four I didn't want to use because he had put it in the workshop. He had intended it for some purpose that I am unaware of. I am still nervous to use it in case he needs it. But he's gone. He doesn't need it anymore. There are so many symbols of his absence.
I am having trouble with the 'pity look'. I know people feel badly and don't know what to say....but the 'pity look' makes it all worse. I don't want to be pitied. I don't want to talk about it. I just want you to get on with your stuff. I may join in or I may stare into space, but don't give me the 'pity look'. It makes me want to puke, or scream, or cry. It makes me feel violent.
I thought that things would be getting a bit better by now. Is it possible that they are getting worse? The acute pain and shock of it all is wearing away. In its' wake, it leaves this awful tangible ache. It's like being covered...no, smothered in a blanket of sadness. This metaphor may seen overly dramatic, but it's true. It's hard to breathe at times beneath this all encompassing bereft feeling. It's a physical ache at times. During the day, it's bad, but not as bad as when the kids are in bed. It's awful during the day to try to stay calm and 'normal' with the occasional cry. But at night, it wraps around me and drowns me. As a friend of mine who lost a child said to me, I have become a 'mommy by day, a mourner by night'.
We painted the new playhouse today. I think I totally over did it. Marnie helped for the majority of it. After she left, I worked on it with Olivia. Briar rode in the backpack for much of it but screamed in my ear the whole way through. Liv's new outfit is covered in paint. Briar's coat has hand prints on it. I have paint in my newly dyed hair. Normally this wouldn't bug me....at least, it wouldn't cause me to feel like I'm going to fall over the 'edge'. But tonight. Tonight it did. I swore. I said 'shut up'. I said things and spat while I said them. I stomped my feet and basically had a temper tantrum....over paint. So not the mommy that I had hoped to be. Where did that mommy go? My poor, poor little ones. I called my sister. She came and made dinner for them while I had a bath. Thank you, Kirsten. I do NOT know what I would do without you. I'm a spaz and I'm sorry.
Will I ever be a truly functioning human being again?