PTSD

In my post on Saturday I shared that I had woken up thinking about Jason’s last five days. The ones that he spent in hospice care at home. Those days have not stopped replaying in my head over and over again. I’ll be at work and suddenly thinking “Oh my God I don’t remember what the last thing he said to me was”. What kind of person am I that I can’t remember that? What was the last thing I said to him? I don’t know.

I haven’t been sleeping well. My focus is all off. I’m trying to re-discover my motivation to do anything in my house….which…other than the basement…is a huge disaster. I can’t even park in the garage. I had a meeting scheduled with my finance guy that I cancelled. We have a huge event at work for the next four days. I feel like I should offer to work a little bit on Saturday and Sunday if needed…and I just can’t do it. I always work a shorter day on Wednesdays. I got in my car today after work and just couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. I don’t even really know why I was crying.

I had my grief counseling group today and the therapist said that I have PTSD. Which I guess makes sense. I just know I don’t feel “okay”. Most of the time I don’t even feel like I’m in my own body. I’m just watching myself go through the motions. Until I’m at home by myself crying into my wine glass.

Last night I had a dream that Jason and I were spending a weekend away at a VRBO. He took my hand and led me into the bathroom where he had filled the bathtub up for me…bubbles and everything. Of course, my thought in the dream was “I wonder if the tub is big enough for two?”….or maybe he’s just trying to tell me I need to relax and chill the eff out…or maybe he’s not telling me anything and it was just a stupid dream.

Saints Game 2016

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