Hibernation

Yesterday, I texted Tim and told him I was feeling worse than the couple days before...even though there was no momentous anniversary yesterday.  His response was perfect...this grief journey we're on is like riding a rollercoaster...in the dark.  We don't and can't know what's around the corner.  Years from now, when we feel like we've somewhat healed, something will happen that will knock the wind out of us, and make us feel that pain all over again.  Even though I know this, it doesn't make those days any easier.

Today is another one of those days.  If I had my choice, I'd bury myself in a hole until I felt a little more like myself.  I don't want to worry anyone...I don't wish I could die.  I'm not feeling suicidal.  I'm feeling like I would like to  hibernate...use minimal energy only for life sustaining purposes.  Or at least burrow under my covers and ignore the outside world for a day or two.  Unfortunately, being an adult doesn't exactly allow for hibernation.  There still are bills to be paid, chores to be done, needs to be taken care of.  There are children to be taught, computers to be fixed, books to be ordered. 

Thankfully, I work with the most wonderful group of people.  (I don't care what you say...my colleagues are definitely the best.)  Every day this week I've come in to surprises on my desk...orange flowers...my favorite candy and/or coffee...a basket filled with orange goodies (even an orange bone toy for the dogs.)  Knowing that I have people surrounding me that care about and love me makes it at least slightly easier to get myself out the door.  We've gotten loving and caring messages on Facebook...text messages...in these dark days it does help to know people are thinking of us.

I still want to bury myself in a hole and hibernate...but I'm here, and doing the best I can, with the support of the best people around.  With that, here was one of my Timehop pictures today...sharing Henry's smiles with the world...