Most days I go about my day - normal but with a bit of sadness. Some days I wake up sad and am just in the sad funk all day. Some days I wake up and think "this is the day that I will go without shedding a tear" and the grief sneaks up on me.
I am having ginormous motivation issues. GINORMOUS. Gigi is at school, I have no job, I have NOTHING to do but clean and organize my house. But yet? I don't. I don't know why.
It may be tied to the fact that my house *is* my dad. My dad came with me to buy it. My told TOLD me to buy it and that he would help me fix it up. I had a 'Daddy Do' list instead of a 'honey do' list. My Mama told me when I got my house cleaned up and organized that she would help me and get a handyman to help finish the projects that are started. I don't WANT a handyman to finish the projects my dad started. I want my dad to do it. (picture me with my arms crossed like a defiant toddler).
My mess is somehow comforting to me. Comfort in knowing that no one else is going to come in and do these projects. Like I'm waiting for my dad to come down from Heaven to do it or something. I am comforted by having a mess around me. Don't go all "Hoarders" on me because I don't hoard. I just am not organized at my house. My Mama is going to try though!
Today I had all day to get stuff done. ALLLLLL day. What did I get done? Not much. I am pretty darn good at Bubble Pop on Facebook though. Truth is...even with two antidepressants and one anti anxiety med...I'm depressed. I want to sleep my life away. When Gigi is home I have to be a productive person - she needs to be fed, bathed, read to, etc. When she is at school or with her dad? I'm a lump. L.U.M.P. I find comfort in that too. I keep hoping that one day I will wake up and my motivation will just be there. That somehow in my sleep my Daddy's energizer bunnyish ways (totally words!) will be transferred to me and I will magically get things done. Not happening.
Besides getting nothing done today I had an okay day. I wasn't particularly sad or melancholy. I went to pick Gigi up at church and we had supper there. Sat with a woman from our congregation who knows me and Gigi and knew of my mom and dad but never realized they were my parents or that I was their daughter. She asked how the job search went this summer and I immediately got choked up and told her my dad had passed away. She asked why. I told her. Then I mentioned that she knew who my parents were and the moment of recognition hit her face and immediately I got the "I'm so so sorry" look.
I did my best to hold back the tears but they sneak up so quickly. Grief is a sneaky little thing. She asked if we got quality time. Quality time? Well, yes. Enough time? Not in a million zillion years. I don't thing an infinite amount of time would have been enough.
Many people see me in public, at church or dropping Gigi off at school. I'm told how strong I am...how well I've handled "things." Things being what...being a single mom, my dad getting terminally ill, dying a short two months later, losing my job, having no money and having no idea how to pay my freaking bills..."things." I'm glad that they think I'm doing well.
The truth? I'm not. I'm a mess. I feel like I could breakdown and cry at any given moment whether it is appropriate or not. I struggle day to day with motivation. I struggle to not come back after getting Gigi off to school and just lay in my bed languishing the day away. I struggle. There will be glimmers of hope - a day full of laundry washing perhaps - but that is followed by days and days of darkness.
I'm overwhelmed. I'm sad. I'm depressed. Someday? I won't be. I just have to keep looking for that silver lining and for the days that grief doesn't sneak up on me.
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