HOLD MY HAND<br />&#8203;GRIEF SUPPORT
Visit Us Also At:
  • HOME
    • Outreach
    • Newly Grieving Packet
    • "In Memory Of" Cards
    • Cuddle Outreach
    • Book-To-School & Library Love Outreach
    • Spread The Word
  • FIRST STEPS
    • First Steps
    • Grief Explained
    • How To Tell The Children
    • Funeral Preparations >
      • Funeral Planning Checklist
    • Writing An Obituary >
      • Obituary Checklist
    • Handling The Stress
  • FOR ADULTS
    • For Widows
    • For Widowers
    • For Parents
    • For Family & Friends
    • Support Groups
    • Notes of Encouragement
    • You Have A Message
    • Camps
    • Financial Assistance
    • Housework Help
    • 75 Ideas For Remembering
    • Remembrance Ideas
    • Holiday Help
    • Resources
  • FOR KIDS
    • For Kids
    • You Have Mail - Kids
    • Kids Like You - Kids
    • Just Ask - Kids
    • Comics Corner
    • Creative Kids
    • Creative Kids' HOPE Art Gallery
  • BOOKS
    • Books
    • Outreach Book Programs
    • Have A Suggestion?
  • GIFT SHOP
  • OUR STORY
    • Our Story
    • Who Was Dave?
    • Sign Of Depression In Men
    • Saving A Life
  • CONTACT

How Did I Get Here?

5/27/2015

0 Comments

 
How on earth did I get here?  That's the question I find myself asking several times a day. In addition to the disturbing amount of time I now seem to talk to myself (there isn't anyone else here over 5 feet tall these days), is the reality of the question "How did I get here?" Sometimes it's a disbelief on where my life has taken me and sometimes it's that I truly can't remember how I got to the kitchen or why I'm there.  Both are unnerving thoughts, the latter being highly unusual for my previously organized and multi-tasking brain. 

That I am not myself is crystal clear to myself and everyone around me.  The fact that I can't snap out of it makes me nervous.  The grief I feel and the memories that come flooding in overwhelm me.  The simple truth is:  Sometimes the grief I feel is so enormous, there isn't room for anything else in my brain.  How did I get to the kitchen?  Who knows!  I was engrossed in remembering a moment with my husband, trying to remember and feel and smell and somehow touch his memory.  Another truth is:  It's OK.  This is where I am. This is what I'm going through.

I have learned to try to compartmentalize now and just focus on getting one simple task done at a time. Sometimes it takes a Herculean effort just to put on my shoes.  I have to be ok with it.  I have to let the old me go.  I can't do things the way I always did, because everything has changed.  My role has changed. Another role has vanished.  My life experience has changed.  I have changed.
 
0 Comments



Leave a Reply.

    Author

    The Widow Diaries is written anonymously so as to protect the author's children from complete and utter embarrassment.  Or at least less embarrassment than she already apparently causes (according to her 13 year old teen in residence).

    Archives

    February 2017
    December 2016
    June 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    May 2015

    Category

    All

    RSS Feed

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.