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Sunday, June 14, 2009

Bring on the drugs

I want to be doing what I used to do on a Sunday ... cook a roast dinner and look out the kitchen window and watch him. Doing stuff, laying the lawn, creating something. See him smile at me.

Instead of eating cold baked beans out of a tin, feeling cold and empty and lost.

I want his arms around me. I want to hear his voice. I need his counsel.

Instead of feeling like I'm letting him down because I can't motivate myself to do anything except cry. There's so much to do that I don't know where to start and I don't know how to do it.

I can't even handle phone calls at the moment, it requires too much effort to tell people how I am, and besides, I can't really tell them the truth, because what can they say? What can they do? Phone calls actually stress me out right now.

I've been strong up till now, and I just don't have it in me anymore. I am broken and defeated and just want to be with him.

Bring on the meds. I definitely need them because I'm on a self-destruct path now ... shutting out the world, not looking after myself properly and I'm standing on that precipice unafraid of taking the leap.

That's what really frightens me. The lack of fear. The fact that I don't give a fuck.

But I can still feel his love and it's all through this house that he'd almost finished building. I know that I have to pick myself up and do this for him, because he wants me to and he loves me. Maybe tomorrow. NOT YET.

The other thing that has kept me going is a voicemail I got from a widower friend in the States. He was worried about me because I hadn't been on the Forum, or blogging or replying to his emails this last week. And I think to myself, if he can worry about me, if he can make that call, then perhaps I can do this.

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