My mind has been all over the place. I cannot focus and I’m also slowly returning to that numbness I had when George first passed. Last year at this time I was planning my wedding reception and George and I were figuring out the menu and dealing with the photographer. But now I’m planning dates and figuring out what the hell I can eat for dinner that doesn’t take much prep time and limited dishes. I feel like Alice when she falls down the rabbit hole and ends up in a different place. How the hell did I get here?
I was planning on growing old with him, and now I find myself dodging and avoiding men I went out with a few times. I keep myself up at night thinking about how I wish I could go back in time to those nights we sat in bed just talking about nothing particular.
I’m trying to move forward, and I was doing the best I could. So much about me has changed. I don’t even look like the same girl who was married to George. I feel like I’m not the same person at all, yet these memories and undercurrent of sadness will hang on to me no matter what. These wounds run so deep and this scar that crosses my soul leaves me so deceivingly vulnerable. I’m about to break into a thousand little piece. If it wasn’t 11pm I would go for a run, but instead I’ve decided to return to my first outlet for this grief: writing.