Intellect and emotions are two very different things. Intellectually, I know why my emotions are out of control. I do want to change the conditions, and I don't want to.
I think the Zoloft is actually doing something now. I don't like it. I was trying to have one of my patented emotional fireworks at the usual ~noon time, and there were few tears. I was dry sobbing. It's not a pleasant experience.
I talked to Linda, and to Kathie. Without family I'd be in really big trouble. Same with Rex. Families have disagreements but there has to be a time to resolve them. Regardless of the circumstances, family will come through when it matters.
I like to be surrounded by reminders of John, but they make me sad. I dread the time when I have nothing left of him but pictures. I know there needs to be some letting go, but I'm afraid that time will dull my memories. In a sense, I'm living in the past with the knowledge that there can't be a future for us.
I'm torturing myself because I can't accept that John is gone. I'm sure the shrink would tell me that it's going to take time to reach the 'acceptance' stage, and that I need to separate myself from constant reminders of John in order to achieve that. Intellect versus emotions.
I sit in John's spot on the couch now..
Every sentence so far start with an 'I' and 5/6 are 'I'.
A few times every day I ask John to help me, and let me know he's okay. I can't sleep without Ambien, so remembering dreams is pretty much impossible. I keep asking for signs. It's been since the first couple days since I've had any. I question my sanity at that time.. To be honest, it's not just talking to John. It's begging and pleading.
I went to the vet's office yesterday to make sure that the contact info was correct. I cried in front of the office staff. They were kind, and told me that they've seen that often. I got the flee, tick, heartworm preventative medicine. Token and Riley use different brands. I was able to apply it when we got home. I've never done that before. John always took care of it. He made all the vet appointments and just let me know when it was time to go. Two of the three meds were not in the pantry with the other dog stuff. I wonder how long it had been since John had done it.
I checked mail today and got a bill from the lawn mower. John hadn't paid them since October 2011. They kept mowing the lawn. They aren't going to get paid. I still need to send Chaquita some money. John owed her $2500. She kept cleaning the house.
I took the dogs to the playground so Riley could run. I think he hit the highest speed I've ever seen him run. It's a sizable playground and he seemed to do a lap around it in seconds, leaping over obstacles. It's been raining a lot here, so his paws got muddy. When we got home, I carried him into the shower and washed his paws. I haven't given him a shower in quite a while, and didn't want to do the whole thing since it was just his legs that were dirty.
After I towled his legs off, I went into the bedroom to change into my house lounging clothes. Riley was sitting in front of me, just looking at me. I was talking to him, and out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw John coming into the bedroom. I turned to look. Riley did also. He was probably just following my gaze. Nothing there, of course. I said 'hello John' anyway.
It's a nice temperature outside so I turned off the furnace and left the back door open. I saw the door on the front of the grill was open. It was closed when we got home. There's some wind though.
I'm grasping at straws... still in denial, in the sense that I know John is gone, but I can't believe it. I can't remember how I was able to move on after my mother passed, my eldest sister, my nephew. I think my brain erased the painful memories. I was living with my parents when mom passed. I can't remember anything from just after it happened until something like six months later.
I remember going into the hospital room just after she passed, seeing my father holding her hand and calling her name. I nearly passed out. A nurse caught me before I hit the floor and got me in a chair. After that, I have no memory. I can't remember her funeral.
This is different. Every moment is seared into my memory, from the moment I woke up and heard the dogs barking, to discovering that John was gone, to now.
It's close to Friday night. I'm going to spend most of it alone. Rex will come over after he gets done with work, around 11 or so. Kathie is going to call again. I'm going to wallow in self pity, and feel physically terrible again. I don't want to eat anything. It's okay, I'm still a bit over weight.
Writing about these things helps. Knowing some people read it helps also. Maybe. I don't know what 'helps' really is though. It doesn't change reality. I still feel terrible, and my ears are still ringing. It takes up time, anyway.
I need something, but I don't know what it is.
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