I’ve been sleeping a lot.
Yeah, I know, it’s not the best way to deal with things, but I’m doing what I can to get by.
And right now, sleeping is the one thing that feels really good.
I could try to lie and say it’s because I’m re-adjusting to my work schedule.
It wouldn’t be a complete lie, I’m sure that’s a part of it.
Really, though, I’m still depressed. I’m grieving. I’m sad.
Don’t worry too much, however. I’m still writing. I’m not that far gone.
Writers only stop writing when life is going really good and you are too busy enjoying it to stop and write about it or
when life is giving you absolute hell and it’s too much pain and effort to write it down because you’re just trying to survive it.
I’m somewhere in between this spectrum at the moment.
Although, it makes me wonder about how he’s doing…
But this isn’t about him. It’s about me.
This month has been one of triggers. I’m going to have several months where this is the case.
This month was a trigger because her birthday is this month. Her birthday reminds me that I’m no longer with her, that I chose to leave. And it’s still sad to think about. I often wonder how she is doing.
This month also marked the longest time I’d spent not talking to him. He who fucked up my heart by loving me and then taking it back. Well, he might still love me, but it no longer matters because we can’t be together anyway. This is something I’m learning to accept.
October is going to be another trigger month. As well as November and December. Basically I’m screwed from October until January.
October he was supposed to visit. I had written down the date on my calendar. October is also my birthday month. The first birthday I will have in 13 years without her. It is also the month I first acknowledged that something was terribly wrong in our marriage. That I was no longer happy or present.
November is our anniversary month. It would have been 14 years.
December is the month of our official separation, the month I moved out, the month our divorce will be finalized, the month of Christmas, which is supposed to be a happy holiday but just reminds me of how I spent it alone last year, packing.
Let’s not even talk about the triggers during the summer months. Dear Lord will this grief never end!
I’m waiting for a time where I won’t be sad. Where I won’t be grieving something or someone lost. I’m told that with time it will get easier, but that it will probably never fully go away. Loss is loss. You can’t un-lose something. I’ve been doing a lot of losing lately. I have a lot to be sad about.
I’m not going to end with a pretty optimistic bow. I know eventually things will get better, that I will move on, that I won’t be depressed and sleeping for the rest of my life. Deep down, I know this. But right now, sleeping feels so good. And so does saying how I feel without apology or silver lining. Sometimes life feels all kinds of fucked up and the best you can do is admit it, feel it, and wait it out.
I’m going back to sleep.