Waves of Pain

Needless to say, life has been a wreck. Sometimes a good wreck; sometimes a bad wreck. All of this was to be expected of course. With another week having gone by, it is Saturday evening and I’m exhausted. This week has included: Restructuring my front flower bed, taking Sadie to the vet, removing ticks from Shooter, painting my spare bedroom headboard and footboard, killing dandelions and clover (my Japanese tulip trees almost took a dive from that), working out everyday, the monthly mayor’s meeting (I’m a community mayor now) and cleaning my house from top to bottom (well, almost).
So, life has been a wreck. This week a good wreck. Last week, not so good. It comes in waves. Like if you think of the ocean on a good day, nice, large, surfer waves. Then think of an ocean during a tsunami. Yeah, pretty much last week there was a tsunami that took over my mind. It’s like, you can feel when the devil wants to take you under with him. Like it’s starting to swallow you up into the middle of the wave and suck you under. You can’t breath. I found myself reminding myself to breathe last week. My eyes just wanted to stay shut for awhile; not because of exhaustion but because of stress. I just felt like my world was falling apart.
In lue of this, I’ve started writing to Jim. He left out into the field for a month and now we have no contact. And it’s also become a bit more therapeutic.
I was writing to him about this feeling. As you can see I’ve stayed extremely busy with not enough time to realize he’s gone. I was asking him what it was going to be like when I finally did realize it. I’m not sure either. I’m not sure if I will at all. Right now, it’s like I’m in this haze and he’s here with me. Every thing I do every day and every second of every day, it’s like he’s there in the corner of my mind and I can see him with me. I can see his face, no matter what I’m looking at, he’s there too. He’s always around. I guess it is sort of comforting but right now, I’m not so comforted. I’m alone. In this house that I’ve come to call home for the next year, with our dog and our cat. Frankly, I’m scared. I’m scared of what I’m going to have to face alone for the next year. Already two months have gone by, but it so seems like eternity. I think my heart is trying to mend itself by allowing me to see Jim everyday even though he’s not here. It can be miserable sometimes though, my throat constricts and my eyes blur, my heart starts pounding so hard in my chest, the pain is so overwhelming I can’t sit still. The tears come in waves, like tsunami waves. Enough to soak through a whole stinking toilet paper roll and once they start, they don't stop.

Life is not easy, but I’m trying to just make it through right now. I miss you Jim. I want you to come home now. I am trying though. Every day I am trying. Every day is a struggle.