162 days in 2023

I knew that number would continue to climb … forever … I just didn’t realize how quickly and painfully slowly at the same time it would grow. And how desperately I wish every day that it would start backwards somehow?

Suddenly it’s September. September?

It was spring .. summer? And now .. autumn.

Isn’t this my favorite time of year?

When I can steal your hoodies and have cozy warm dinners ready for you when you get home from work.

When we can snuggle with blankies on the couch and watch movies.

When it’s not so excruciatingly hot that we can fuck like bunnies and I can fall asleep in the intoxicating essence of you.

I let Sadie sleep on the bed now. I can’t sleep alone. Gracie spends the night in her kennel since eating a playstation controller.

I still leave the TV on to fall asleep to, but I wear a sleep mask now since you don’t come to bed after me, watch an episode of my murder show, and then turn the TV off for me while I sleep. I guess I could figure out a timer on it to turn it off an hour or two after I go to bed but .. I don’t.

The new sleep meds I’m on, since the pharmacy was out of my regular ones, work fine to put me to sleep - much appreciated - but they don’t stop the dreams like the other ones did.

The dreams.

Never of you. Still. Wtf. Why? Just the anxious stressy bizarre terrifying dreams again that cause me to wake up unrested and sweaty.

I guess I should call and see if they have my usual ones in again yet. But I haven’t.

My birthday is Sunday. Last year you took me to Niagara Falls a week early because you had to work on my actual birthday. What an incredible weekend that was.

I don’t want to acknowledge anything this year. I don’t want to mark a year of me getting older and you won’t.

I think it’ll be worse in November, for your birthday. I always turn a “year” older than you, and stay that way for 9 weeks until your birthday .. ha, and you never let me forget that I’m a whole entire 9 weeks older than you.

So I’ll be 43 .. and then November will come and your birthday .. and you’ll stay 42 .. you won’t catch up to me again .. so .. maybe if I don’t recognize my birthday, we can stay 42 together?

Stupid tears just come out of nowhere. And everywhere. I think the dark circles under my eyes are permanent now. It’s gotten to be horrifying what’s happened to me since you left and honestly, despite what anyone says, there’s shit all I can do about it.

I cut my hair a few weeks ago, just the scraggly ends .. I think .. I hope .. idk. I’m letting the white-grey take over and come in fully, fuck it. Even if I could afford a proper haircut, I’m ashamed of the condition my hair is in - brittle straw, half grey-white, half dark dye-job. Fuck it.

I’ve lost so much goddamn weight, nothing fits. Interesting that 6 or 7 years ago I started my weightloss journey and busted my ass for over 2 years to lose 100lbs and be super stoked & finally comfortable with my body, and kept it off all this time, blah blah blah …

And now I’ve dropped about 50lbs since April. 50lbs I didn’t have to really lose anymore. My c-section tummy is just crepe skin, the skin on my arms is all crepe-y, my legs are gross, all my muscles aren’t muscles anymore they’re just jiggly skin.

My skin is in complete revolt with breakouts, dry patches, dark spots, the circles under my eyes. I’m a mess.

And yup, that’s me bitching .. while drinking my 3rd cup of coffee which is all I will consume today until I attempt to put a meal together for dinner for Dee & his gf.

I know it’s entirely my fault - I should be walking, outside, daily at least. I don’t leave the house.

I should be eating - something, anything, but funds are so tight they’re non-existent so unless Dee is home - I don’t cook and don’t eat. I make sure my kid has food - don’t come at me, that’s how it is, my child comes first and this isn’t the first time I’ve gone without for my kids, psssh, parenting.

I have gotten myself down to one pot of coffee per day rather than the two pots per day I’ve been drinking. So now when my one pot runs out, I switch to water for the rest of the day. Progress.

It’s grey and drizzly and cool today. I like it. I wish it would fucking pour so I could grab the umbrella and walk over to the lake. Nobody is ever outside when it’s a torrential downpour, so that’s my time.

I miss you, Babes. I miss you just as hard and hurt just as much as I did the moment I touched your hand to wake you that morning. I don’t even want to pain to end anymore. If it ends, so do you.