Early Retirement

After almost three weeks of late night grief fits, the likes of which I have not yet coined a name that accurately captures their intensity, I have made a decision to retire to bed at a reasonable hour from now on. Staying up until I pass out on the couch and then getting up to go to sleep but keeping the television on for company has not really been working for me. In fact, this pattern of behavior has only been feeding the monster that holds me in it’s relentless grip.

When I think of grief as a monster, I can understand how easily I can fall victim to the symptoms and begin spiraling downward instead of ascending toward freedom. Grief feeds on bad habits. Grief loves when I don’t eat right and don’t exercise and stay up until I cannot walk a straight line into my bedroom. However, when I eat healthily, get plenty of rest and try to remain as clearheaded and organized as possible, given the circumstances, grief retreats, unable to overpower me.

I do feel destructive at times and deliberately do things that are not good for me. I have wonderful people in my life but sometimes I purposely fall away from them and try to go it alone. Sometimes I just feel like nobody can help me, but those are the times when I’m not really taking care of myself.

Tonight as I was preparing myself for work, I happened upon my automatic lamp timers I bought when Chris first died. I experienced rage, pulled them from the drawer they were in and slammed them into the trash with as much force as I could produce. I don’t even want to look at them. I feel like I will never, ever again come home to the lights on and a loving best friend and husband awaiting and then welcoming my return home. I miss the lights being on when I get home. It’s not the same when they come on automatically, because it isn’t really about the lights anyway.

I’m scared. I think I may be trying to rush things. One moment I want to meet the guy I have been writing to and the next, I am drowning in a sea of grief and guilt. That’s okay. I have pretty much resigned myself to the fact that whoever is next is going to get hurt because he is going to be sitting front row center at my one-woman freak show. Although, had Chris not become sick with cancer, he would have survived it. He may not have understood it, but he loved me anyway. Maybe somebody else will, too. There’s a lot about me to love.

Well, I promised myself that I would begin retiring to my bed at 10:00 each night. I can already feel myself opposing my decision, but I’m going to at least try to honor it. I don’t see how I can begin to concentrate otherwise.

Good night.