Like a Room With Out a Roof

Am I depressed?   No.

Am I sad, unhappy, broken hearted and pissed off?   Yes. You bet. All that and more. 

But I am not that ALL of the time.

I think that grief is sort of like being really drunk—reality seems to come and go. Time is not orderly or even sequential, there are long dark periods and brief flashes of light. Then I wonder that if grief is like being drunk—what do you suppose the hangovers are like? And would proper hydration help? Then I realize that my natural facetiousness is making itself known again and it feels...good. I want to be MYSELF again.

How do I do that? I didn't realize how much of me was made up of him.

My Wish Well

But I swear I will be happy again, I swear it. If I am sad at times, then I will be happy in between those times. Even if it turns out that happiness is only small stepping stones on a lake of sadness, I will be happy again. I will cross to terra firma and I will be happy again. Even on this journey of grief I will count my blessings and I will call them happiness. I will stitch together happiness out of little pieces until it becomes a whole cloth and I will wear it.

I am going to look for little pieces of happiness and I will define my life in those terms. My blanket is fuzzy, it gives me comfort. My cats are pretty good cuddle-ers. The sun was warm this week. I am a happy person and I WILL be happy. I am starting my happiness collection today, I will number my blessings as the stars are numbered. There are so many acts of kindness from so many people, so much concern and care. There is love, all around me and I am foolish to dismiss it because it is not Shane’s love.

I am a happy person and I will be Happy.