I cannot think of a title for this post. My father has been dead 32 days. The pain is insurmountable. I have taken a 3 week leave of absence from work. I think I am getting a handle on my grief, and the smallest thing usually unexpected triggers tears and sobbing. And then there is SI. I can’t believe I will never see him again.
I am at a loss for words. I have not been to therapy in …I can’t remember when. It was before Christmas, yet after the day my father died in the truck accident.
I can’t seem to numb myself no matter what I do. What does that mean? What do I do? I function and I crumble. I crumble and I function. Hiding in my apartment does not help this. Going to the mental hospital won’t help this. SI doesn’t help this.
I am so tired of feeling obligated to live.
I dreamed that my father was back. He was wearing the gray suit he was buried in. We were in a real fancy smancy hotel. I guess you would call it a resort hotel. The kind rich people go to. There was a massive party in the penthouse, to celebrate him coming back to life. I kept trying to take elevators to the top floor, but the elevator always let me off on the wrong floor.
When I finally made it to the penthouse, his wife was wandering around aimlessly. When I asked her where he was, she wouldn’t tell me. I fought my way through a crowd and finally found him sitting at a table. He and my uncle looked so happy and they were laughing together.
Then I woke up. I said allowed,”bitch.” Then I realized it was Christmas morning and he was gone….
My hand hurts. In between my fingers again.
I am going to try and go back to sleep for a couple of hours. I will then wake up and put on something red. I will have Christmas dinner ready by the time my daughter gets home from work. We will open gifts and I will try my best to smile.
Can’t I just not be me for a little while. It hurts so bad and I have to try and keep it in all dat at work. Everytime a member days Merry Christmas I want to sob.
I miss my dad and my leg hurts. As I have said numerous numerous times over the history of this blog….that’s the point. The wound is about the size of a nickel now. If I don’t regain control, I will keep digging and ripping until it’s bigger than a quarter. This is not a plan. I am just thinking of past behavior and examining the evidence as my psychologist likes to say.
Why can’t I not be me for a little while? Because I have errands to run. Because I can’t take any more time off work. Because this paycheck is cut in half. Because, Because, Because.
It had been 19 days since my dad died.
I cried when I got to work an hour and a half early. I cried from 12:27-1:00 CST at work. I cried on the way home and I sobbed when my boyfriend called me at 7:43pm.
I don’t know what to do.
I am in the parking lot at work. An hour and a half early.i need to go home and get in the bed. I feel like I am drowning in depression since my father left 15 days ago. Like quicksand. I worked Wednesday and was off Thursday. Here I am again.
If I don’t leave and go home, it will not be me that gets out of this car and goes to my cubicle. It will be robot Cindy.
I am desperately looking for a legit work from home job. Even a graveyard shift where I can work in solitude. I had a week and a half off when my dad died. It’s not enough. What is going to happen? I don’t know how to handle the intensity of this grief.
I slept from around 11pm to 1am. It is now 4 something in the morning. Around 2:00am the cable box shut itself off. I am sure it was wishful thinking, but I said aloud “DaD?”
I miss him and wish there was a way to know he was not in pain or scared when he left.
My head hurts. My heart hurts. I feel so alone. Tomorrow he will have been gone for two weeks.
Maybe one of Netflix’s B movies will put me to sleep.