I spend a lot of time convincing myself through words that I type that I am trying to be positive. Convincing others that I have a healthy attitude. Trying to find little nuggets of truth and inspiration in everyday life and prove that I'm grateful for what I still have. Then a day or an event happens and I'm a fake. If I said how I really feel, I'm afraid that everyone around me would quote Sandy from "Grease"; "You're a fake and a phony, and I wish I'd never laid eyes on you!".
I'm not well. I'm still pouting. And with all the time that goes by, I find more to pout about. Every normal obstacle that blocks my path feels like a personal affront to my widow-hood. The car won't start? That's because I'm a widow. The dog got out? That's because my husband died. It's silly, I know, but when I go to bed alone at night, and wake up alone every morning, the void is an entity that has taken on powers of great proportion. The void of him seems to cause every little bit of trouble I have.
And so the year ended yesterday. All day long, I was extremely sad. Tears were close at any given moment. I tried to explain it - the end of the year he died, entering a new year without him, an overload of people when I've gotten used to quiet, all kinds of "reasons". The real reason? I think my life sucks now, and outwardly I put on a brave face and list everything for which I'm grateful. Most days, I can convince myself. Most days, gratefulness wins. But you know what? It will be a long time before I don't pout anymore. Expect that from me. You can ask "what's wrong?". But you can also correctly say, 90% of the time; "Oh, one of those days, huh?" I'm going to make it. I just don't think it's going to be a very scenic route. My apologies, but I'm pretty sure my excuse is a good one.
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