Some days, you just can't and you have to stop

It started last night. Full blown grief enveloped me, and here I am, still in my pjs today.

I told Dorsey I needed space today. Just let me be. I rescheduled my kitties' one year check up because I don't want to get out today. That's a hassle with all kitties at once. I need the energy for that.

It's the first day since my parents died that I've been totally overwhelmed with loss. I have spent every day since they died focusing on as many of the positive aspects of their time in heaven, and being grateful for those blessings.

I have gone through some of my parents things, mentally preparing for the task at hand. I've decided starting small on eBay is my focus for now.

I have caught up on house upkeep projects that have been neglected for many, many months (Tree work, plumbing, new fence to replace the rotting one, dishwasher, etc.)

And I've distracted myself by cleaning, getting my toes and nails done. Getting some facial treatments. Buying Dorsey much needed clothes and shoes. (I've refrained ... except basic necessities and running shoes.)

I've been wasting time on eBay. I've been trying to figure out my plans for Socks and Blaze, my mother's outdoor kitties. I've been trying to figure out out how to get some of the furniture we are taking over to my house.

I've been planning the organization of selling some of my mom's things on eBay —learning a little at a time about these collectibles, dishes, furnitures and textiles.

And I'm wondering when I'll feel like cooking or baking again.

We've planned and booked a much-needed getaway to Santa Fe for our 14th anniversary. And we've planned and booked a much coveted Caribbean trip in December.

But eventually, all that distraction stops. Reality remains.

The tears must flow.

I'm in my Mom Cave, watching and listening to very nature DVDs we purchased for my mom to calm her never-ending anxiety. I don't know whether it actually worked.

I wonder whether any of the things we tried to make things better for her even helped ... she was in so much emotional pain. We tried so hard ... not sure it meant anything. Not sure what she could understand. Feeling guilty that it took us so long to get her to my house and she had to experience Hell Hole Heights. (Hillside) Sad that she couldn't have been with us in our house long enough to maybe get better and enjoy herself a little more. Sad that my dad pushed and pushed for her rehabilitation, sincerely believing she would get mobile and transferrable, when I knew deep inside she couldn't. I don't think Dad truly understood or accepted the depths of the issues. Facing and keeping my mouth shut when he would say things I knew weren't going to come about.

These things haunt me.

I'm just not in a good place today. But the tears are finally flowing. I suppose in a ridiculous way, that's positive.