Haddie Bo Bo,
Grief is hard. Sometimes I just have one of those days where I HATE EVERYTHING. There is no specific memory of you that I am holding on to today. There isn’t a certain thing I can point to that is setting me off….it’s just life. I am irritable and there isn’t a Zoloft dosage high enough to pull me out of this feeling. There aren’t enough bottles of wine to drink that will make me forget that this is my life.
I hate my house and how there are toys everywhere. No matter how many times I pick them up they always are scattered everywhere. I hate how disgusting my dogs are. They smell, they shed, the poop, they puke, and it’s gross. My house always feels gross. There isn’t enough bleach in the world to make it not seem gross to me. I look around at the piles of laundry and feel completely overwhelmed. There are clothes draped over our kitchen chairs that need to be hung. There are 3 baskets of clothes that need to be put away. There are clothes in the washer and dryer and I think they have been in there for days and need to be rewashed. There are dirty clothes all over the floor of the living room from where Elo decides she wants to be naked and throws them. There are always dishes in the sink, on the counter, in the dishwasher that need to be attended too. I feel like all hope is lost for a “clean” pottery barn looking house. I load and unload the dishwasher on average 3 times a day.
The baby cries all the time. It is a rarity if he is awake and not crying if he is not eating or being held.
I hate that I have no patience.
I hate talking. I hate talking to your Daddy. I hate talking to Elo. I hate being asked “What’s Wrong?”. I hate talking to the random people I encountered today. I would like to lock myself in a dark room and watch Netflix for days on end and not make any contact with the outside world.
I hate how I look. I hate how I feel in my clothes. I hate that I crave ice cream all the time.
I hate that I feel pressured to take a medicine that makes me “nicer” to people. I think that sometimes I don’t want to feel better. I hate that feeling happy makes me feel sad. Recently I hate looking at your pictures. I see your smile and I feel like a failure.
There isn’t a Bible verse to be read that will make me feel better, not alone, not angry.
Today I feel like existing is hard. Today I am angry. I know this won’t last forever and I will feel differently soon. Maybe in an hour, maybe tomorrow, or maybe just after I write you this letter. Usually that makes me feel better and allows me to be able to get on with my day.
I hate the judgement that I will get from writing out these feelings.
Lastly I hate this life without you.
Your very disgruntled Mama
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