Sunday, June 13, 2010

I have been weeping for 3 days, that is, when I'm not sleeping - 12 hours at a stretch - or watching really old reruns of NCIS that I've seen what seems like dozens of times. And I'm wobbly, not dizzy but off balance much of the time. It's frightening. I thought it might be one of my medicines for anxiety so I stopped taking it, and it's a little better, I think. I can't hold on to anything. Yesterday, I spilled coffee on my bedside table. This morning, I spilled coffee on my knitting chair. Things just slip through my fingers, and I put things down without looking and they end up on the floor. I feel crazy as snot, distracted, out of it. When I woke this morning, both my arms and legs were aching. I'm familiar with these things. I've been depressed before. Today I knelt by the hearth in front of Clint's ashes and wept until there were no more tears. Lisa called me, and the sound of her sweet voice made me cry. I don't want to talk to anyone, or for that matter see anyone, not even my best friends. How long can I go on like this? No one can live forever feeling like this. I start knitting projects and then pull them out, just to be destructive, I think. I'm still begging Clint to come back, telling him I lied when I said I was strong enough to do this. I'm not. People want to know "Are you o-KAY?"
I want to punch them in the face and say "Hell, no." How in god's name am I supposed to be okay? Parrish is a constant worry, but he's not the reason I'm insane. He says he will stay in Miami until the end of the year. I was depressed and crazy before Clint died. I'm just crazy, I guess. These few days, I have felt as though I were walking in hip-deep water, struggling to get where I'm going. I went to supper with the family last night, but I should have stayed home. I was unhappy around so many people. I wanted to be home in my bed with my dogs. I'm crying right now. Mama never let me cry, so I guess these are all those years of unshed tears. I wonder how much of this pain is about Daddy. He died when I was 6, and at that young age, you have not idea what you've lost when a loved one dies. I never got to know him. I grew up fatherless, if there is such a word. Are some of these tears for that? I never felt cheated before, but now I resent like hell that I had no father to do things with me, teach me how life works, tell me stories, punish me when I needed it, walk me down the aisle, dote over my baby Parrish. Why? Why do I have to suffer this way? I'm still angry, really angry, angry to the point of being irrational. There's nothing rational about this, nothing.

No comments:

Post a Comment

I love comments. Compliments are always wonderful, but please feel free to leave constructive criticism. How can I learn and grow without your input?