I've only been home an hour. It's bedtime already.
Because I had to sit in Tesco's car park for half an hour.
Because I was crying so hard I couldn't see to drive. I just had to let the wave of molten lead crawl over me, let it burn me until it was satisfied that it still had the power to bring me to my knees. Debilitate me on a whim. Wring my heart with a sadistic delight.
This morning my kettle broke. The kettle that he used to make me tea with every morning. I know it's just a thing. But it upset me so. So while I waited for my diabetes meds I had to choose a new one. Then I felt such an irritating itch on my neck and touched the necklace that holds his ashes near my heart and it came off. The clasp had broken so I calmly put it in my purse and realized how lucky I'd been not to lose it.
Picking up groceries, I couldn't avoid all the santas, Christmas food, decorations - each of them stabbing me in the heart. A death of a thousand cuts. Translucent faded water colours of him selecting meats, cheeses and goodies. I had to walk slowly, purposefully, as I couldn't remember what I needed. It took an age.
Then I saw the tin of biscuits. You know. The "seasonal" ones. And I just had to get out of there. And fast. He'd always buy 3 tins straight after Xmas. Delicious and far cheaper. In 15 years he never once said "no" to me ... but he wouldn't pay the pre Xmas price tag and I'd look forward to this treat every December 27th.
Then I struggled to bring the shopping in. In the dark rain. The dogs helped. Not. Brought the bin back onto the drive. He always did that. Looked at the mail. Junk and ... an electricity meter card request. Cue more sobs.
I'm beyond exhausted. Work is coming at me at breakneck speed as are deadlines. I'm hormonal too. I'm run down. And I've got this tsunami coming at me. I can't fight it. This Xmas is going to hit me even harder than the first. For I know now that he's never going to buy those biscuits again. Last year I wasn't sure. This would have been the year that he covered the roof in white fairy lights. Think Chevy Chase. The reality is that his friend still hasn't returned to put on the last 20 roof tiles - a year on.
Tomorrow I have an eye test to ensure I'm not going blind from diabetes. I'm petrified. I don't mind dying but I don't want to go blind. Seriously. I'm not supposed to drive for a couple of hours after they put on the eye drops but what else can I do? I don't have a support network where I live.
I'm tired. I'm tired of this battle. Every single day. And for what?
I miss him. I want him. I need him. I love him.
Doing this alone is so tiring, so frightening at times.