It feels very much like Monday. I'm back at work, back for the first time since last Wednesday afternoon, when I left early to take Heather to the doctor. The cup of coffee left on my desk had dried out, turning into a 1/4 " thick sludge. I had been monitoring my e-mail, so at least there weren't 100 unread messages, but I'm still feeling very uncentered. I don't know what I should be doing. I can't find a routine, a groove, something repetitive enough to occupy my brain. Thinking is painful. I wish I could have just stayed in bed, but that's no good either. I have to make the effort. I have to at least act like I'm functioning well. The problem with grief is that it is cumulative - each new heartache brings back memories of old heartaches, so that everything seems to well up at once, even things long settled in the heart. They all come back anew to haunt the soul.
I thought about deleting all the past posts - none of them have any meaning to anyone but me anyway- but I couldn't do it. Let them sit there, unread and unremembered. There were no posts in 2009. There was nothing positive I could find to say, although there were happy moments mixed with the sad. The sweet mixed with the bitter. The birth of my nephew, the death of my mother, the numbness that followed, and lingers. The start of my journey towards an MBA, the job that no longer inspires me, the purchase of an Airstream to help bring me back to center. That was 2009. This is 2010. It's time to turn and face forward, and soldier on.
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