CRASH!

 I crashed last week.

Up through yesterday.*

 Maybe today will be better.

It felt unfair, as I told my grief therapist.

I had a practiced story -- that I never said it was unfair that Will had dementia and that I was a dementia carer for 4 years, or 7 years, depending on how I was counting, but that it felt very unfair that I was experiencing this level of grief at this time.  I've been grieving and managing my grief for a long, fucking time.

And then people tell me, "You lost your husband of 48 years."

I am feeling my fucking feelings, thank you very much.  I don't seem to have a lot of choice with that.  I've been screaming in the car.  I fall on the floor and cry.  I bark at people.  Not literally....yet.  Wouldn't be prudent.

My therapist says to set a timer and know that I can do anything for 10 minutes at a time.  Whenever she says this (and, yes, she has to repeat it; I'm very slow right now) I think about Doug Booster saying that we could do anything for 2 minutes -- meaning hold a squat or plank or do squat jumps.

I'm desperate to be with people and I'm afraid to be with people.   

Last night I showed up to my Zoomed EFM class to cry and leave.  I'd actually brought my FBPortal with me here to the Sunriver Lodge (where I thought I'd spend three nights but I feel too alone here -- so transferring to the Oxford tomorrow night). I'd thought I could meet with my folks.  But I had a beer at lunch, my defenses were down and nope, nope, nope.  Couldn't do it.  A couple of folks checked in on me afterwords...thank you Mary, David, and (church) Stacy, if you read this.

I am blessed with two old friends who checked in on me - thank you (school) Stacey and Dianna.  

I am not crying yet this morning so today might be a better day.

Here is the $64,000 question:  Who is Kake sans Will?

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* This statement is illogical because it implies that a crash is an ongoing event.  Perhaps one should find a better metaphor.**

** Just shut the fuck up, Superego.  KnowatImsayin'?