I'm so lonely, but I don't want to be with anyone except my dead husband. So here I sit, aching, not wanting to ache, but unable to escape it. This feeling saps me of energy, of any motivation, of vitality itself. My brain has been irreparably damaged by this loss, the tendrils of our interconnectedness severed like fibers of a sinew sliced by a carving knife, raw nerve endings exposed and screaming. I'm all cried out. Crying is cathartic for a while, but the reality remains: my life is now empty and meaningless, and it just seems like too much effort to hold on to purpose anymore, especially in face of the coronapademic and rampant, pathological stupidity that gushes like the biblical flood from the highest echelon of our farcical democracy. California, my home state, is burning, and I haven't the emotional surplus to much care. I just want to curl up in a corner of an empty room and cease.
You explained grief in a nut shell. I feel like a zombie at times. If it wasnt for my kids I probably wouldn't get out of bed on days I didnt have to work. I'd probably come home to just lay down after work. This empty and lonely feeling inside jus pulls me down sometimes and bout sucks the life out of me. There are so many things I need to do around the house but have no motivation to get it done. Praying that we have strength to get through this process so it pull us completely down.
