Going through the e-motions

9:00am: Starbucks – Feeling good

9:45am: Church – Went to the wrong location.  No biggy  I can handle it.

10:00am: Church – Went to the right location and somehow still made it on time.  Sweet!

12:30pm: Friend’s house – Feeling pretty good.  Lot’s of people here.  Why do I feel somewhat panicked?  Oh no, now I feel overwhelmed.  Retreat to a bedroom.  Try to nap.  The overwhelmed feeling is not going away.  I can’t breathe.  I have to leave.  I collect my daughter and get her dressed for the cold outdoors.  Please, I pray, I need to get her out of here before I fall apart.  It’s too late.  I can’t get out the door in time.  Tears.  Weeping tears.

2:37pm: Car – Thank God my mother offered to drive us home.  I am shaking and can’t stop crying.  I looked through the glove compartment for a tissue.  I stumble upon some “rescue rem” calming remedy from my ND.  That’s where I put that!  I take four drops and wait for the calm to replace the deluge of weeping.

3:00pm: Home – Trying to be low key.  My mother and “Tucky” are having a tea party with Alexis.  I feel calmer.  I’m not crying any more.  I clean the dishes, put some food in the oven, and get something for everyone to drink.  I have an impulsive urge to clean some more.  I light some candles and turn on the Christmas lights.

I remember that when Neil died, after the initial shock of the news, cleaning was the first thing I felt compelled to do. I still don’t know why I had to clean.  Maybe it was to take control over something…

Today feels a lot like I am re-living those initial set of emotions.  I am experiencing them in the same order, only it’s not day one after Neil died.  It’s day two hundred and eighty six.

Why is it like I am beginning all over again?  Haven’t I already been here?

6:18pm: My Mom and Tucky leave.

6:30pm.  I put my daughter to bed.

7:oopm.  I write.

7:25pm.  I am ready for bed.  My body calls for sleep upon sleep.  It is burdened with information and emotions.  My brain stalls like an overloaded computer.  It can’t get out the words it is looking for, or remember what I went into the basement for, or what I was going to write in this next line…

I succumb to my body’s demand for sleep.  I have no strength to counter what it asks of me.  So sleep I will.  Sleep I must.







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