Sittin On A Porch

Sittin On A Porch
Our little back porch

Monday, March 14, 2011

numb

Yesterday I felt numb.  Tired and numb.  That is not to say that I have cried out.  No, I keep thinking that surely I must run out of tears soon, but no.  My skin is drying out and flaking off.  I am sure that I am not drinking enough, but with the stomach issues between the meds/stress/loss and then constant tears, I am drying out.  I am trying to force myself to drink more water, but I just don't think of it.  It is that simple.  My mind is numb one minute, racing the next.  The emotion is exhausting, but it is out of my control.  


I tried to go to work this morning.  I thought I could just sit in my office and data enter.  But I couldn't focus.  I felt trapped and needed to get out.  To come back home and sit in my red chair and not worry about emotions.  To just let things happen as they are going to.  As much as I am better about that, I am still not completely comfortable with this expression of sorrow in public.  


I have cried over Colin at work and I have cried because of chemical imbalances, but this sorrow is too close, too intimate.  I don't want to share this grief.  I want it for myself.  I am used to dealing with sorrow when it comes to being with Larry.  But there was also great joy at times.  One thing for sure there was always a lot of emotion involved in our relationship.  So here I sit, trying to talk myself into going outside and pulling weeds, or take a walk, or lay in the pasture.  But I just don't want to leave my little chair.  My place of security, where I can experience my grief, and hopefully not lose myself.  To just let the numbness wash over me.

3 comments:

  1. You won't lose yourself. Call me if you feel like you might. I'll throw you a line, I promise.

    ReplyDelete
  2. My dear sister,
    I will be there this week-end. I'll bring breakfasts, lunch, dinner, and of course chocolate. We will cry, laugh, and remember stories to sooth our souls & heart. You do not walk alone. Love, Love, Sioux

    ReplyDelete
  3. So sorry for this loss, Kathleen.

    ReplyDelete