Fragile

Monday, December 22, 2014

I've been feeling a bit more emotionally stable the last several months. We made it past the first year after Moe's death, and I was trying to look toward the future with some optimism.

But Christmas has always been a tough time for me. I'm prone to depression at this time of year (more than usual, I mean), and depending on the year, it can range from feeling a bit blue to weeping in such a deep morass of misery I thought I'd never crawl out (last year).

But now it's three days before Christmas, and I find that depression and grief are starting to creep back in.

On Saturday the Smart Man and I decided to run a cleaning cycle on our self-cleaning oven. We let it run, and then let it cool until it unlocked. But obviously I didn't wait long enough, because the inside glass broke when I was wiping it down. Now, this is the sort of bone-headed move that happens to us on a semi-regular basis. We did some research, and apparently it's a relatively simple matter to get someone to come out and replace the glass, and as long as we're careful, we can continue to use the oven in the mean time. It's not that big of a deal. But the incident brought me to tears - a response completely out of proportion to the event.

So now I have to admit that in spite of my best efforts, I'm struggling. I'm not sure how much is due to the hole in my heart left by the departure of Moe-Moe, and how much is due to my "normal" holiday depression. I suspect it's a lot more of the former than the latter.

Sister Stacey and the Superlative J.R. are arriving tomorrow from NYC to spend the holidays here at the Big Yellow House, and I can't wait to see them. My lovely MIL and my own Hot Mom will be here on Wednesday, and I'm looking forward to that, as well.

But I should probably quit trying to fool myself about the speed in which I'm moving on my grief journey and admit that I'm still more than a little fragile when it comes to these triggering events.

10 comments:

David said...

Hugs to you. In ridiculous quantities.

Anne C. said...

What David said.
<3 <3 <3

vince said...

Lots of hugs your way.

Yogi said...

Big big hugs. It's been almost 5 years, and this year my wife asked if we could do something completely different for Christmas, as the memories and pain were getting to be too much. (i'm more of the stoic, bear it and weep kind.) So we are.

The best advice we were given is: Be gentle with yourselves, as far as you can. Your heart has taken the strongest blow that can be delivered without killing you. It is no shame to be damaged, to feel hurt.

Know that you and Moe are always in our hearts.

Shawn Powers said...

Hugs from all of us here in northern Michigan. And some toe licks. (From the dogs of course, I mean, we're strange, but not THAT strange)

Carol Elaine said...

Love , hugs and strength, always and forever.

Janiece said...

Thanks, everyone.

<3

Jeri said...

Big hugs. Grief is a sneaky bastard.

Steve Buchheit said...

The greater the love, the longer it takes. And what Jeri said.

Beatrice Desper said...

Hugs from France.