Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Am I supposed to?

I feel like...

-there are things I'm supposed to say and do that I'm just not saying and doing.
-everyone is waiting for me to either fall completely apart or go on like nothing has changed.
-I'm not supposed to be able to string two words together to form a coherent sentence or I'm supposed to be the same old Catherine.
-(to borrow a phrase from someone) there is an invisible sign around my neck that says, "My baby died."
-I'm supposed to find God, or lose God completely...this in-between place I'm at isn't acceptable.
-if I cry or if I smile, I'm doing something wrong.
-I feel like everyone is watching me and judging how I grieve.

Has my grief turned to paranoia? Is this the first step toward all-out mental illness?

Yesterday I heard that the guy in the office next door to mine flew to Vegas and married a girl 20 years his junior. This is his fourth marriage. Everyone was gossiping and had some pretty nasty things to say. I couldn't stomach it, so I said, "I just don't know what to say," and walked away. I think what I was really wondering is, "What do you all say about me when I'm not around?" I mean, really...whose business is it except for him and his new wife? I think I will send them a congratulations and best wishes card.

Did I mention that I "highlighted" my hair and it looks like crap? I think this is one of the reasons they tell you not to make any drastic life decisions or changes for the first year of the grieving process. lol eh...it will grow out...or I'll color it a different color!

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Your hair does not look like crap. It looks very nice and I feel comfortable enough with you that I don't feel obligated on complimenting you. It looks nice. :O)

I love you.

Mom

Anonymous said...

You are better than your coworkers from what I can tell.

And I would guess that your hair does not look like crap and you are just being too hard on yourself.


Love you,
Holley

Mom

My mom insisted on living independently. She wanted to live in the two-story house she and my dad built in the 70s, despite the fact that da...