Why is so hard to do anything when you are grieving? Is it because everyone else’s lives are moving forward and yours is standing still?
Getting out of bed is a challenge.
I trudge to work in the morning like I’m going to my execution.
If my husband isn’t home, nothing around the house gets done.
My projects sit half-done, no matter how much I want to work on them.
I hardly cook, I rarely eat.
Applying for jobs takes so much energy I almost can’t hit the “submit” button for fear that I’ll get a call and have to interview.
The Christmas decorations are still up because I can’t bring myself to do anything and my husband likes them too much to put them away.
I need to go to the doctor, but I don’t have the energy to make a phone call and talk to some lead-hearted receptionist who thinks she has better things to do than schedule appointments.
I want to believe a change of pace will help me shake off some of the sad, get out of this rut of the daily disaster. Maybe I secretly hope running away will give me a chance to be someone “new.” I would like to make some friends, and I don’t see it happening around here.
I wish I had a camera that took decent pictures so that I could spend the precious few hours of daylight I see looking for little bits of beauty in the world. Beauty, it seems, holds the world together, and lately I’ve been sorely lacking in it.