So. Today is Saturday. I’m struggling, or rather still struggling. I don’t know how to grieve. Is there a right way to grieve, a wrong way? I’m not a person who is willing to show a lot of painful stuff. I don’t generally cry in public. That takes an overwhelming amount of stress. I’m not overwhelmed. I’m just not alright. I don’t know if I’ll ever be alright.

I sometimes wonder if I'll ever want to search for someone else to spend my life with. It's a purely intellectual exercise. Anyone who would want to spend time with me would have to 1. be okay with not having sex with me; 2. be okay with not getting a whole lot of snuggling; 3. understand that I need a lot of alone time; 4. understand that I'm peopled out really easily; 5. understand that my work requires that I keep many things confidential. Think there's anyone in the world okay with those things? Yeah. Neither do I. However, all that's moot since I don't want to have anyone else in my life. It's not that I feel like I'd be dishonouring Thomas in any way, he'd want me to be happy. It's that getting, forming and maintaining a relationship, especially a close relationship, is very energy intensive. I don't have that energy.

 

Toilet Paper Sticking to My Heel

I've got a sticky dream. Since I've gotten off of Paxil, my active dreaming has significantly reduced. Once in a while I get to dreaming one that I can remember for a few days. Rarely I get one that sticks too long. This is one of them.

I dreamed that I was in prison for something to do with the internet or computers. I can't recall exactly. I was to be housed in a dormitory type environment. There were the usual threatening individuals who were promising harm to me. I wasn't impressed and my attitude was basically "bring it on." I spent a lot of time in my dream waiting. I waited for bedding. I waited to complain about being forced to participate in a psychodrama program (I refused to) that was run by a former co-worker. I waited to speak to a dietician. I wasn't feeling afraid, but I was frustrated.

So, in my analysis (because I'm an expert on dreams) I figure that I'm feeling imprisoned by my continued, low grade grief. I need to sell Thomas's truck. It's beyond stupid hanging on to it, but I have major issues in terms of getting it ready. My mood dips into the depths of Hades when I try to get out and clean the truck. So, today I booked an appointment at a detailing place to have the inside of the truck thoroughly cleaned out. This saves both Boy and I the work and eases my mind about progressing toward getting the truck sold. Boy went out today (being the wonderful person he is) and took off glue from a bumper sticker that had been on a window and removed another from the tailgate.

So that's how things are. I'm still stuck.I'm working at getting myself out of being stuck, but I'm still stuck.

Another Photo, Because I Can

I miss him.