Givng Paxil the "Axe"-il

Grief.

I don't want him to be dead. I really want him here with me. This is hard. It's coming up on eight months since Chris died. I don't want that to be true.

I realized tonight that I have been living for the both of us. I'm tired. Everything I see, I formulate what Chris' reaction would have been. I imagine what he might have laughed at. I create conversations we might have had. I can't do that anymore. I have to stop. He's not here. He's not coming back. He's not going to have not experienced cancer. He's never going to not have been bald...or in so much pain that he couldn't walk.

I'm going to short out my keyboard in a minute if I don't stop dropping my tears on it.

It's time to stop taking anti-depressants. I'm just not going to anymore. I'm aware that I'm going to feel like crap. It's okay. it's time. What's not okay is for me to continue to consider what any more of Chris' thoughts might have been or how much he might have accomplished. Not okay. I'm too tired to keep him alive. I have to let go. He's gone. He's just gone.

By doze id duffed. Nothing a few Kleenex's won't cure.

The day we met is still so clear in my mind's eye.

I'm.......so.......tired.

Supposedly, Paxil is a drug that's supposed to be stopped gradually. I'm ready to stop NOW, though, so I'm trying it cold-turkey. I think there's still a part of me that feels deserving of punishment because I lived and he didn't Survivors guilt is common in situations like mine.

I'm going to begin seeing a new therapist on Thursday. I'm finished with my old one. I want a man's perspective.

Autumn's coming and I so wanted to walk with Creej and get coffee with him and sit, quietly with him and just live our separeate lives, together, with each other. We were so good at it.

I'm sad. Despite the fact that the rest of my life is filled with friends that I love, family that I love and activities that fill me with euphoria on a daily basis.

I just have to try to let go, now. I have to let go.

It's possible that there IS no other world where souls live on and watch over us. It's possible that he's not guiding me and that he can't see me and that his entire existence simply ceased.

If this is any indication of what the next few months are going to be like, I'm going to need a bigger box of tissues.

Shneed.