Accepting Help

This week has been hard and it is only Wednesday. I am tired. Really, really tired. At this point, if I could just stop everything in my life to just sleep, and it not affect anything, I would. Trying to grieve and raise three children is quite difficult. I am sure with time that will begin to ease. Even though that scares me...because it means I am fine living without my husband...and I'm NOT fine.

On Monday, I had all three of my children and suddenly felt this overwhelming panic come over me. It was horrible. A feeling I recognized, but magnified by a million percent. The noise stimulation was overpowering my ability to function. I felt like I could hear every little thing in a room of full of chaos. It's like the noises were pinging in different areas of my head and each time I would cringe. Everything was crawling under my skin and I just wanted to shake it off, but I couldn't.

I could feel it progressing quickly and I had a very strong urge to contact the boys' father to come pick them up. So, I did just that. I felt guilty, what's beyond guilt? I'm not sure, but whatever that is...I felt it. It isn't that I don't want my children around. It isn't that I am not capable. I just don't want to place my feelings onto my children and make them feel as though they are responsible for making me feel better. Even though that happened anyway when I told them their Dad was coming to get them. My thirteen-year-old said, "It's okay Mom. This isn't your fault. It is okay. I promise." He wants so badly for me to not be in this immense pain, but it is impossible to make it go away.

As soon as the door shut, the intense anxiety began to fade. It was quiet and my daughter was about to go to bed. I could breathe again. I held her and swayed back and forth, holding my breathe so she couldn't feel me sob. It isn't just that I don't have my husband here with me anymore...she doesn't have her Daddy anymore. The only way she can know him is through us. It pulls my insides apart whenever I think of it.

As much as I do not want to grieve, I do not want to feel, I do not want to function...I have to. I took time off work, but bills don't disappear and I'm the one who has to pay them. All the paperwork after the loss of your loved one is a significant amount of responsibility in itself. Life insurance, accident insurance, my work, his work, loans, debts, veteran affairs, social security, waiting on toxicology for a cause of death...etc. It is painful. It makes you feel like a robot. I've just been in autopilot for a month now. I cannot believe a month has passed.

It hurts. My stomach hurts, my body feels limp, and the ache is terrible. Trying to work from home, with a toddler, during a time of immense grief feels impossible, but somehow I am managing to do it. My father-in-law asked me today if I have considered counseling. I have and I will take that action, I've just been waiting on the insurance switch to make it a little easier. We had just all switched onto my husband's insurance; now that he has passed, we all had to switch over to the insurance through my work.

Today, my work is hosting their Christmas Party (yes, very early in the season). When I rsvp'd to the event I listed the children, my husband, and myself. I had to change the reservation from Jeff to my sister. I couldn't face it alone. I am using this as my opportunity to "break the ice" with work and see everyone again. I've been working from home since Jeff's passing. Tomorrow I will be braving the office for the first time and that is terrifying for me. I don't know if I will just function as normal or if every time a person speaks to me, I will cry.

I am proud of myself for making it through this month. I am proud of myself for sticking around and continuing to breathe each day. I am proud of myself for admitting when I need help and asking for it, even when I don't want to.

This journey is unpredictable and I have accepted that. I take each moment and push through, knowing that the next may feel quite different than the last. Every day is a challenge and I continue to hold my strength by accepting my grief and learning to navigate forward.