Members Annie_Alone Posted October 5, 2013 Members Report Share Posted October 5, 2013 Tomorrow morning at 5:30am Pacific time, it will be one full week since I lost the love of my life. When people ask me how I'm doing, I want to say that I'm mostly functionally numb with periodic episodes of utter devastation containing inconsolable crying jags. Sounds like a weather report, doesn't it? Instead I just say that I'm hanging in there because no one really wants to hear that the world as I knew it has ended, or that I had half of myself amputated without the benefit of anesthetic. They won't understand the silence, the alone-ness, the aimlessness, the painful emptiness where my heart used to be, and I'm not sure I could adequately explain it.For the last year during the radiation, the chemo, the endless doctor visits, it always was, "How's Mike?" Now, people are finally getting around to asking how I'm doing and I feel like telling them it's too late to be asking me that but I say I'm hanging in there. I guess hanging in there is true in a way, especially if I add the word "barely" to the beginning.I feel like I'm losing my mind. My thoughts are scattered, and frequently they blow away like dried leaves before I can catch hold of them. I want to curl up in a ball and never move, but the dogs need tending, the yard needs mowing, and I need food for when I force myself to eat. I feel like I have to force myself to do everything.I know this phase will pass in its own time, but I guess I need people who do understand what this is like, where I don't have to answer that I'm hanging in there. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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