I took some much needed time off to deal with emotions related to my father’s death. He died a year ago Friday of last week.
As the day approached, I found myself falling into a deeper sadness. One I could not breach.
As much as my hope is to chronicle all my feelings (good & bad), the thought of writing about how I felt was depressing.
I still feel off. I still feel sad. Soon, however, I hope to return more to myself.
The last week or two have felt like years. My grasp on time slipped. I tumbled into a darkness that left me both vulnerable and void.
I got very little done.
Last week’s highlights, I…
– Sharpened all my pencils (a monumental feat for the day)
– Bought containers to organize (to distract myself on a particularly bad day)
– Spent about 12 hours looking for a piece of paper I should have found in 3 minutes time
– Went to get blood drawn for lab work (Everything is fine.)
– Started organizing paperwork. Then… Stopped.
– Barely ate
– Wanted to cry at least once a day
I did a million other things, mostly small. Each forgotten as soon as I moved on.
I hope this week finds me coming more fully out of my funk. Because it’s heavy. Uncomfortable.
And, practically speaking… I have things that I need to do.
Still… I vowed to be gentle & kind with myself, no matter what does (or doesn’t) come. Knowing that everything will be okay. No matter today or tomorrow how much (or how little) gets done.