Not a great night for sleep last night. I kept having to get up and poop. Unnatural.
I’ve had a rough day. Lots of emotions spilling out. I even cried a bit during my one on one with my boss. But I pushed through.
I realized today that it’s not just the six months coming up on Sunday. This week. Right now. Six months ago from today, I was in the hospital. I was watching my love die. Listening to the monitors as they tried to ease him through brain death so that other people might benefit from his organs. Curling up on the bed with him, resting my head on his chest. Feeling his skin too hot. His heart beating too fast. Telling him that it was okay to let go…
I have every right to be upset this week. To feel all the things.
I’m not going to start a new program with Move U this week. This is not the week for it. I’m going to be gentle with myself. Keep myself moving with gentle movements. Keep up my walks.
I’m going to get through this.
I actually did some work on my shed today. The initial tarp that I put on was getting shredded, and a low point had collected a big chunk of ice. I worked the ice out of there first, and then pulled my other tarp over the top of the shed. I secured each corner, then two gromets on each wall, and an additional rope along the front opening. I think it looks better, but I’m not sure how well it will stand up to the wind.
It felt good to get something accomplished, physically. I also realized that Ambrose’s orange knife is quite dull, so I need to sharpen it. I was going to do that tonight, but when my parents left the family zoom early they left me and my brother on together and we ended up spending a good amount of time talking and listening to Carter’s malaise speech.
I’m feeling that trauma deeply this week. The trauma of his death that stretched over eight days. I will cradle myself this week. Handle myself with care, and compassion, and love. Take each day as it comes. Each flood of emotions as the blessing of his memory.