Sick And Tired

I am sick and tired of being sick and tired.

I feel like crap.

Not every day, not every other day, but often enough that it's become a real problem for me.

I take antidepressants to make it through the day.

I take sleeping pills to make it through the night.

There are days in which I still have trouble getting off of the couch.

There are days in which I barely eat.

There are days in which I eat everything in sight.

I believe that there's a lot of shame surrounding the grieving process. It's human nature to want to protect the people we care about and so those of us who are truly in the depths of despair don't talk about it. We don't share with people what we're going through. We suffer in silence.

We suffer.

I don't want to suffer anymore. That's a big part of why I started this blog. Writing has always been therapeutic for me and I truly believe that we're only as sick as our secrets. 

I refuse to be sick anymore.

As my daughter would say, this blog is about to get real.  :-)

Another Goodbye

I lost a friend today although, admittedly, friend is much too strong of a word to describe our relationship. What lies between friend and acquaintance? I'm not sure; all I know is that he was one of us. One of the good guys. And this is the only way I know to say goodbye.

Two weeks ago a parent at my daughter's school suffered a massive heart attack. A parent I've talked to every single school day for the past 4 years. A parent who stood beside me on the playground as we watched our children run and climb and wrestle each other into the dirt. A parent who always had a kind word for those around him. A parent who never failed to make me smile. 

I prayed for him every day for the past two weeks. I prayed that his wife would never know the pain that I'm experiencing. I prayed that his children would have much longer with their father than my daughter had with hers. I prayed that he would make a miraculous recovery and that in a few short weeks he'd be back on the playground, talking to Blythe and I about what tattoos we want him to design for us. Unfortunately, my prayers and the prayers of countless others did not come to fruition. 

When she is ready, I will offer my support to his wife. I will offer to pick up her son from school, to cook dinner for her family, and to sit with her when she doesn't want to be alone. I will give her my copy of Option B, by Sheryl Sandberg, and tell her how much it helped me. I will give her the name and number of my therapist if she wants it. I will let her know that she can call or text me day and night.

As so many others have done for me, I will let her know that I am here.