So here’s the thing

It’s been almost three months and I thought I would be doing better. Every day puts me a little bit further away from Randy’s death, so it should be getting better. The experts say grief is not linear, it comes in waves, whatever. But I’m smarter than other people and I’ve been through tough situations, I’ll be fine. But lately I’m realizing that I’m not fine. I set my baseline - set an alarm so you don’t sleep until noon, get up, make the bed so you don’t get back in it, brush your teeth, take a shower and get dressed. Get on with your day, do at least one hard thing each day. And I did that through the first month and into the second. I’m doing fine, my therapist is cheering me on as I try to get back to a normal life, grieving but continuing toward having a healthy life where I get out and see people.

But over the last couple of weeks I am not managing my baseline. I wake up at 4 or 5 in the morning, read for a while. Maybe I fall back asleep at dawn, maybe a little later. I keep reading, book after book though I can hardly tell one plot or character from another. I get up and feed the cat, then get back in bed where she joins me after she eats and we sleep until 10 or 11.

The last couple of days I drink even more wine than usual, dragging myself to bed later and later. I don’t wash my face or brush my teeth because I can’t bear it. The whole house needs to be vacuumed, there’s dust everywhere. I get into bed in whatever tee shirt I’m wearing and I read for an hour or so, fall asleep and wake up at 4 or 5.

I can’t think, I can’t concentrate, and who gives a fuck anyway. I can’t bear to eat real food - I order pizza, eat cheese and crackers, drink wine and sparkling water, and eat many M&Ms. I’m surprised at myself, ashamed of myself, and I don’t want to see anyone. I’m so sad I don’t even know what to do with myself. But there’s nowhere to go but forward, I tell myself. It’s just so hard.