I guess I have been doing okay most of the time. Today, not so much. I don't know what it is. But after baking this morning, I haven't been able to get up to do anything really. And Neil decided to take the stuff I baked onto the floor, open the containers, and eat some. And leave the rest for the dogs to get. This is after I offered him lunch, and he said "no" to everything I suggested. I saved the banana bread, but the pumpkin chocolate chip cookies didn't make it. I was so angry. Completely out of proportion. I scared Cilly. Oh and the house is a wreck. And I just can't find anything inside me right now. I feel like a shell. It's too damn much. Too much responsibility. Too much sadness, pain, frustration. Too many moments to mess up. I screamed that I hate being a mother. I couldn't shut my mouth-I felt the words bubbling and tried to stop them...I slowed them...and they still came out. And Neil said he was sorry and he would never ever do it again. And I just want to shrivel up. Damn it all. I thought I was doing so well...I haven't felt the anger for a while...my skin feels hot and cold...not like a fever, just like confusion. I'm just. So. Tired. and I want him back. and I want me back. I want so many things I cannot have.
Like those cookies. I really wanted more of them.
I remember telling John how I was so scared. How I had to live after he was gone and how that was just so intimidating and overwhelming. I don't know that he ever got that. His fate was worse. I think it is fair to say that mine is harder. Although I do hate that stupid word: fair. It never seems to help anyone.
I think I should have taken a nap. Maybe that would have helped. Maybe I would have dreamed of puppy dogs and rainbows.
I still would have woken up and had to wade through the mess that is this house. I still wouldn't have known what to do with half the stuff here. I would still feel mostly empty.
I wish I had someone to hold me while I cried. That would be nice, in a sort of sad way.