This week I am in it. 😔

In a funk.

The kind you can’t pinpoint to one single thing, just a mix of little and big things that make life feel so heavy and unfair all over again.

It feels like a grief hangover.

The kind that wants to keep you in bed for days and disengaged from life for a while.

But I can’t.

I’m exhausted. I’m sad. I don’t have enough energy to be angry with life or to fight with my kids to eat healthy, go to bed at a decent time, or get ready for school before noon. I just don’t have it this week. The energy, the focus, or the brain power.

Am I the only one who still wanders around her house asking, “What did I do today?” It’s been 2 years, 3 months, and 2 weeks. I know there is no timeline for grief, but this living-like-a-zombie thing is getting old.

The last few weeks…

Our son had an episode of “life sucks, I can’t take it anymore, and I want to drop out of high school.” In his defense, his school is intense, and on top of losing his father and best friend, it becomes unbearable for him at times.

Watching him carry that kind of weight breaks my heart all over again. 💔

Grief doesn’t stay contained. It leaks. It echoes. It multiplies across the people you love.

My birthday had lots of fun, with moments that felt almost normal. But the days after, I deeply felt his absence. The kind that reminds me that I am no one’s priority now.

Ouch. That really hurts every time I say it.

Then, there’s my nonexistent career. I’m applying for jobs with no clear prospects because, yes, I lost mine in the Federal Government sweep at the beginning of last year. Just another layer. Another uncertainty.

And because life has a sense of humor that borders on offensive…we have mice. Again. 🤬

I HATE mice. Nope, they’re not cute. I reject that narrative completely!

They’re disgusting creatures from the pits of hell that have come to terrorize my house! I do not need this right now!

Yesterday, St. Patrick’s Day 🍀, I had enough energy to color my hair in an effort to lift my spirits, and we all wore green to celebrate our Irish heritage… yeah…we have none 😂. But at this point, I will cling to any excuse to make something feel like a celebration.

Because that’s the thing. I still want to celebrate. I still want to live.

Oh, the absurdities of grief

Last week, I received a LEGAL NON-COMPLIANCE NOTICE for my late husband. He didn’t show up for jury duty.

Shocker.

Can somebody please explain to me why the IRS can find me in Timbuktu and seize my “wages and assets,” and the DMV knows if I got a ticket in Alaska, but the courts haven’t been notified that a person, a taxpayer has died?

Okay, I might be exaggerating a little. But also…am I?  You get the point. There seems to be a clear disconnect between government agencies, if you ask me. A massive, glaring, almost comical disconnect between systems that are supposed to track life… but completely miss death.

And every letter I get addressed to him still hurts. It’s like a paper cut to the soul. Small, but so sharp.
A reminder, again and again, that he is not here.

That he will not be here.

Oh, the absurdities of grief and a death-averse culture. And I say that because I was once one of them, living naively in the bubble of people who had never suffered the loss of a close relationship… the death of the person who was your forever.

If I were to look for a silver lining, I can say that I’ve noticed my funks don’t last as long or go as deep as before. I can bounce back quicker. And it still sucks being in it.

Progress, I guess.➡️

❤️‍🩹 Healing, maybe.

I’ll take it.🙋🏻‍♀️

Maybe a small ray of light is starting to peek through after all. 🕯️