The same old thing

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.

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