Grief is isolating.
It so is to! Damn. I have worked so freaking hard from the very beginning of this crazy mixed up journey to 'get out there', 'do', 'live'. Well, ya know what? It ain't working!!!
Two years and 4 damn months into this shit storm and I'm screaming UNCLE...I'm tapping out. Let me out of this ring now...don't want to be here and I definitely don't want to play this stupid game anymore. I feel like I am the definition of isolated. Look in the dictionary and there I am pretty as a picture wrapped inside the meaning of the word. God, could I be any more pathetic?
Where am I? Where did I go? Am I coming back? Will I know me when I see me? Will you? Ugh! What the hell man. Not only do we have to come to terms, whatever that means, with the fact that our spouse has left the building but now we have to figure out where the hell we went? Craap!
All these many many months clawing my way through the muck that my life is and this is where I end up? Isolated. Alone. Again...what the hell man. Why can I no longer find the words to carry on a conversation, why do I cringe when asked to do something or go somewhere? Why?
Is it always going to be like this? Will I ever be able to feel joy again? Will I laugh again with more than just my voice? Will I be able to do what needs to get done without thinking it to death and making myself crazy. God, the questions. The boat loads of questions and not one single answer.
Stick a fork in me because I am done!
