There's no way to really put this, so I'm just gonna put it out there and let the chips fall where they may:
I haven't been this depressed since high school.
I'm not saying this to elicit any kind of sympathy or pity or anything like that. I'm saying this because I need to get it off my chest and acknowledge the truth.
I know that this is just a 'natural' part of grieving, and yet, I hate it.
I don't want to eat, though I've been making myself. I want to be drinking pretty much all the time, though I've been forcing myself to limit when and how many. Conversely (even without drinking), I'd like to be throwing up. Or I want to be in bed, sleeping or just surfing the internet. I feel like my hearing is hyper-sensitive. I don't want to be playing with the kids, and just right now, I don't want to be around them. My 'skin' is so thin right now. I feel raw.
Speaking of my kids. They remind me of my mom, how much she loved them, and they loved her. How my daughter would love to take my mom's camera and take pictures. My son, especially, reminds me of her, in looks. I remind myself of her, when I look in the mirror. That makes me hate myself too, because I don't want to be reminded of her right now.
I can't even pray. Isn't that the shits? Every prayer reminds me of my mom, and I just want to cry. I haven't been to Sunday Mass yet since the funeral Mass, but I can't wait for that. (/sarcasm) I remember certain things or songs that my mom loved, and then I want to lose it.
I know people say, "Oh well, just cry, just let it out. What's the worst that could happen?" And theoretically, they're right. But I've never been the kind of girl who just loses it at pretty much anything. Yes, I've cried before. Yes, I've bawled. But never for long. I've just always had this inner control freak thing going on that just said, "Enough" and then the spigots would dry up and that would be that. No matter how much I wanted to keep going. And the last place I'd want to lose that control would be at a public place like Mass.
It doesn't help that I'm incredibly self-critical. My hair never looks good enough, my ass never skinny enough, my tummy never flat enough, my brain never smart enough. Family tends to amplify that, as evidenced by these past two weeks, because now I really am hating on myself. Sisters do that to each other, right? Especially when I have a sister whose baby is 9 weeks old and she's already skinnier than I am after two babies. What a dumb idea of mine to go shopping with her! I just wanted to crawl into a hole when I couldn't even zip up the damn dress I was trying on! I don't blame her at all, I really don't, because, well, she has been working on losing the weight while I've been sitting on my fat ass and not doing a damn thing about losing weight.
I just can't believe that I won't be picking up the phone and speaking with my mom anymore. Or going to Mass with her and dad. Or hearing her voice. Or being frantic over something or another and going to call her and ask her advice. Or having her sew something for me - I can't sew a lick.
On top of all that stress, I'm worried about my dad. He has health problems of his own, that my mom helped to manage. Do you know they've been married for over 50 years? I'm worried that he won't take care of himself, I'm worried that he'll be lonely, I'm worried that I won't be doing enough for him.
So, yeah, that's my life right now. Awesome, huh?