This morning I woke up from a dream; a dream in which I said goodbye to you again. “Don’t worry, kiddo,” you said, “I’ll always be with you.” I woke up with tears running down my cheeks.
Today marks four weeks since Grandma’s death. And I feel so drained. Emotionally. Physically. A shell of myself. I went to see my doctor today because I feel so lost. Like I am floundering as I try to be an adult and figure out the next steps. I have reached the end of my ability to cope, and I no longer feel like a functional member of society. Most days, the only thing getting me out of bed in the mornings is the knowledge that I have to babysit Rory. If it weren’t for that sweet girl, I don’t even know what I’d be doing.
This afternoon after my doctor’s appointment, I went to Grandma’s apartment to get the rest of my stuff out of it. It was hard. So hard. Harder than I thought it would be to just get my crap out of the apartment that Grandma had lived less than a year in. But it was so hard.
I am going to be gentle with myself for the next few days. I have to be. If I expect too much of myself, then I will fall. And I honestly don’t know if I want to get back up again. So, baby steps it is. I will accomplish one thing a day (and some times that accomplishment may be a shower), and I will find one positive thing to focus on.