Weepend

This weekend was difficult. As soon as I met Tom after work on Friday I was a wreck. Even when I wasn’t crying I was sullen or worse, surly. I think the surliness is from the tranquillizers. I don’t take them very often anymore- we’re even weening ourselves off them to sleep. But this weekend I had to make an exception.

 

I just couldn’t get above water. I felt emotionally and physically wrecked. I kept announcing loudly “My throat hurts” and scattering my shoes and clothes all over the apartment.

 

Even Saturday night, we went to the movies early then to dinner. I laughed and laughed at the movies, then morphed into a teenager at dinner. I played annoyingly with my chop sticks, I stared at the ceiling.

 

I thought about the last time we had eaten at the restaurant and how thrilled I was that they had “fake” sushi- sushi with cooked fish. I was pregnant then and craving sushi like crazy. I couldn’t stop thinking about it throughout the whole dinner. I kept touching my belly to remind myself that it really was over…that I hadn’t just woken up from a horrible nightmare.

 

I’m trying to be kind to myself, and patient. I’m finally realizing that this grief is so much a part of me now, that I can’t avoid it or expect it to soften anytime soon. But I feel wedged in too. Like I can’t smoke- physically it made me want to barf and socially I got a half a dozen distressed emails and text messages about it. I can’t move away because we have concrete plans to stay. So many things I want to do to manage my grief come under scrutiny by people who don’t have any idea what I’m going through. And I don’t have the energy to stand up for myself. I’ve become such a mouse. It’s frustrating and I’m afraid of what happens when the lid finally blows off.

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