Six months

182 days. 26 weeks. 6 months. James has now been gone for 6 motnhs. 1/2 year has already gone by and I do not know where the time has gone. The truth is, I don't remember most of the last 6 months and I am okay with that. There are some things it is probably best I don't remember anyway.

This last week leading up to today has been miserable. Last Monday, I called in sick to work which is something I rarely do. I went to the Same Day Clinic first thing and was diagnosed with viral bronchitis. I was given some super-strength cough pills and told to come back if it turned into pneumonia. I have always been given antibiotics for bronchitis, so late the next morning I called my primary care physician, only to find out his office is closed on Tuesday afternoons. They finally called back Thursday and I told her my cough was getting worse and more productive. She said that if I started to run a fever of 100.4 to come in and that I needed to give it two weeks to fight it on my own. I reminded her that I was grieving the loss of my fiance and that my defenses were down. She agreed that I probably won't be able to fight this on my own and said to make an appointment when I have pneumonia. Right now, I don't really feel health "care" is an accurate phrase, but I have felt that way for awhile. As a result of this, my brother decided it was best to not come spend the weekend with me on his way to the coast after all. While I understand he has to do what he feels is best for his kids, it was still horribly disappointing.

So, getting back to Monday. After being sent home with my super-strength cough pills and sleeping all day, I felt a lot better, so I kept my appointment with the orthodontist to have the spacers put in. They told me they would be sore for a few days and then feel better. That I would need to eat soft foods for a couple of days and then I would be able to chew again. In theory, yes. In practice, not so much. I was finally able to almost chew again Monday (a week later) after they took the spacers out to clean my teeth and put new ones in that sat more comfortably. I really did enjoy that soft taco and chalupa! The top braces and bottom bands went on today so no more Taco Bell for a few days. I can still have Starcrack though, so all is not lost.

I have been having bad dreams in which James wants absolutely nothing to do with me and is downright nasty to me. My head knows they are just dreams, probably brought on by stress. My heart, on the other hand, is devastated. In a fit of desparation Thursday night, I pleaded for a sign that everything was going to be okay-that I was going to be okay. Friday morning, my co-worker buzzed my desk to ask if I was aware one of my tires was almost completely flat. After I finished a tirade of swear words, he and I slowly drove to the gas station on the corner to fill the tire. I felt so helpless. After work, I went and had the two rear tires replaced. This is the 4th time this tire has gone flat in 3 years and after the last time, I told James if it happened again, I was just replacing it. I also realized that I have never had to pay attention to my tires before. It was something that James just did for me and I just let him. I felt less helpless after that.

So, being sick, hormonal, unable to eat anything that requires chewing, and having bad dreams has made me a lot more emotional. I miss James more than ever and want nothing more than to have him here to give me a big hug and tell me everything is going to be okay. I have basically been a sobbing wreck for the past two weeks. I know I need to let it out but it is exhausting. I can tell there is something eating away at me, but I can't figure out what it is. He was so good at drawing things out-most of the time, he knew when something was bugging me long before I did.

I have been told that I am doing everything "right" which I find amusing since there is supposedly no right or wrong way to grieve. I go to bereavement group, see a grief counselor and a grief therapist, I am in contact with other young widows/widows of the heart, I keep a journal and I consult books on grieving for some extra guidance. But lately I just feel like I am hanging on to the edge by my fingernails and I really don't know what else to do. It is said that around six months, shock wears off and reality sets in. I believe that to be true. And reality sucks.