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Friday, December 13, 2013

Cobwebs, Fog, and Apathy

        This grief is an interesting thing.  I have lost people, things, and pets before in my life, but none have affected me to such a degree as the loss of my husband. At this point, a little over a year after B passed away, I thought I would be able to function just a wee bit better. I'm not. Well, I am, but not as "better" as I thought I would be.  Of my bad days, I can usually put them into three categories: cobwebs, fog, and apathy.
      My cobweb days are interesting.  Sometimes a memory will just fly up out out of the blue and get stuck in my head. Usually it is a good one like our wedding day kiss, or a day we spent goofing around with the boys, or a day where we had one of those dates or conversations that reminds of why we loved each other so much to begin with. These cobweb days, I'm like the spider. I turn the memory over and over in my web, spinning more and more silk over it to keep it protected. I visit it from time to time, gleaning what goodness I can to sustain me and keep me going.  These cobweb days are my favorite. Then there are the not so good cobweb days. The ones that are so very much NOT my favorite. The stupid, sucky horrible memories that fly up out of nowhere and get stuck. Getting that phone call. Hearing the doctor say those horrible words. Seeing you there lifeless. Our last fight. On these cobweb days, I am less like the spider and more like the fly. I fight and fight and fight to disentangle myself. The more I fight, the more I get caught. Caught up in the replay, caught up in the horrible feelings that go along with it. I try not to get caught, but, like the fly, sometimes you are just going about your day and WHAM! Stuck. No matter how hard you try, you are just not going to get out of it.
     Foggy days have their own "special" quality.  These I know are coming as soon as I try to get up out of bed in the morning.  I am usually that bouncy, bright-eyed, chipper morning person that everyone loves to hate. Up at 5am regardless of the hour I went to bed, ready to go and coffee and breakfast made for everyone shortly thereafter. I know. Just reading that makes you want to kill me, right? Especially if you haven't had your morning cup of coffee yet. If it is any consolation, on foggy days I am very much NOT like that.  Foggy days start with the complete inability to get out of bed. Usually that half asleep/half awake state when your body can't move and your brain is trying desperately to cling on to the last vestiges of that amazing dream you were just having. Once my feet hit the floor, I know it is going to be a no shower, jeans and a hoodie, 5 cup of coffee kind of day.  There are tears in the corner of my eyes the whole day, and more often than not I will find myself in a room of the house with no recollection of why I went in there.  I go through anything I have to do that day in a daze that resembles that of a zombie.  I am assuming I probably look like that to the outside world, too. Unkempt appearance, slow shuffling walk, incoherent speech...yup. Sounds like definite zombie qualities. Surprised I haven't been taken out already by one of those doomsday preppers. Comforting, sort of. These foggy days are becoming fewer and farther between, but man, when they do hit, they are doozies.
     What more and more of my bad days are becoming is full of apathy. Just going through the  motions. Not sad, not happy, not angry, not anything. I could win the 40 bazillion dollar lottery and  just shrug my shoulders and reply "meh". It's like being a 2D figure in a 3D world.  I look all right from the front, but if you catch me at just the right angle, you can see something is missing. I'll participate in activities, but only if I have to.  I might smile, joke, or even, laugh; but if you watch or listen closely you can tell that they are missing their usual luster.  My cooking is less flavorful, my housework suffers, and the general world seems less colorful. I can't even shop properly on these days. I know, how very commercial of me, but admit it, sometimes shopping makes all of us feel better. Especially shoes. And purses. And clothes. And random gifts for other people. I've been told self-care will help with these apathetic days. Going to the gym, going for a walk, stopping and smelling the roses, etc.  The problem is, on apathetic days, I am disinclined to anything that requires even the tiniest bit of motivation. Then my motivation comes home from school. The bright shining moments on these days are my beautiful boys.  Somehow, some way, they usually find a way to inject a little bit of sun into even the greyest of apathetic days.  The older one getting a good grade on a test or telling me how he stood up to a bully.  The smaller one writing his name without assistance or getting excited about seeing a big construction truck being transported down the highway.  They remind me that even flowers can grow up through the cracks in the sidewalk if they have enough will.

 If a flower can do that, then can I.

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