I'm there. I've hit that wall.
I've hit the wall where I realize that this isn't going to get better. I can't fathom this pain not ending. I listened to my mom describe her chronic pain due to fibromyalgia and she described how this feels, physically, perfectly.
I often wake up with a weight and breathlessness that is so big I think I'm drowning. I question how I'll survive another day, and when I do I dread having to do it again. And then I do.
I can't stop eating, I can't stop sleeping. I'd spend recklessly if I had the money to do so. I'd drink all the wine if I had the money to do so. I want to escape, I want a break from this pain, but I'll never get it except for the moments of numbness.
I think it might of been a comment on here, it was mentioned "I don't want my kids to say, oh you should have met her before" I'm failing at that one. They will say that, and I tell them often I would hurt and be just as broken if I lost them. The are so empathetic, so understanding. They don't question when I fall into a puddle of tear soup. But I'll never be as I was before.
I'm so sad, and so jealous his killer will get a break. This person will be able to move on, and be able to mostly forget. Thats not ok, when just looking at my boys reminds me. Hearing them, and not hearing him too reminds me. It's not ok that this person gets away with it.
I don't think people get it. The things you're saying are cutting through me. They hurt. Don't try to use logic on me. Grief is a 3 year old, you can not be logical with a 3 year old. And oh how I looked forward to his 3rd birthday. I love 3 year olds, I love their illogical ways. I hate that I'm missing his.
The 3 month mark is Sunday. I'm not ready. Time keeps ticking. My heart keeps pumping. My lungs keep exchanging gases. Completely against my will. I'm not ready for life to go on. I'm not ready to say goodbye to my baby.
So here I babble, alone in my grief, minutes until tomorrow. So happy valentines, may your heart never be as broken as mine.