I had therapy today after two weeks since I skipped last week for launch. I literally felt like I was a hot mess sitting in that chair! I’m having issues sleeping, my emotions are heightened, and I’m constantly trying to do all these things we said we would do. It’s like I’m in a rush to finish living this life, so I can stop feeling the pain and grief and finish writing this chapter and move on!! Like it’s a race and if I stop, I won’t be able to go on like the two bags of paperwork I pulled from your man room. They have laid untouched on the floor of the dining room since the day I put them there. I can’t find the energy or strength to go through the paperwork anymore. I also obsess over donating your shoes ever since I saw a bin at work with a sign that says, “Shoe Donation, don’t throw trash in the bin!” I thought maybe I should bring all your shoes to work and put them in the shoe donation bin, but then I thought what would people think? Why does she have so many size 13 shoes to donate? Where did she get all those shoes from?! Why are they so big compared to her feet?! Ever since I saw that shoe donation bin, all I can think about is getting rid of your shoes. I obsess over it, and I go into your closet and look at your shoes and ask myself, will I take them to the shoe donation bin today?! I feel like I just want to throw them all away. I don’t ever want to see them again. I’m hoping that if I can get rid of your shoes, somehow I would feel like I’ve progressed on this journey. Instead of feeling stuck. Stuck in this stupid middle room where I’m neither living nor dead--it’s like purgatory for the grieving widow(er). S/He can’t move on but s/he can’t stay where s/he is either, so s/he continues to spin in circles to just keep moving even if s/he’s going nowhere; it’s like marching in place. You’re just moving to move but you're going nowhere. Maybe I should start out small and take one pair of shoe instead of feeling the need to take them all. (I don’t even know if all your shoes would fit in my car -- you have a lot of shoes, Babe!) I should take a pair that I think is your least favorite, a pair that you wouldn’t care if they are donated or not. But, you know me...I can’t do anything small. It’s all or none. Me finding one pair will lead to all your shoes in my car as I’m driving down 880 onto the Dumbarton bridge so they can be donated in the shoe donation bin. I don’t even think the shoe bin would be big enough to accommodate all your shoes.
Why can’t I do it?! Why can’t I just get rid of your stuff? It’s not like I can wear your t-shirts or shoes -- I’m the most practical person in the world and have very little attachment to things, and I still can’t get rid of your stuff. How hard is it to take everything and put them in a box and call goodwill to come pick it up!! You have so much stuff to donate that goodwill would probably come pick it up. But I can’t. I just continue to stare and obsess over your things. I look at them and ask myself, will today be the day I finally do this? Just the thought of your closet being empty or the thought that one day it will be empty or when I try to envision your side of the closet empty, it just brings me to tears, and I get so frustrated with myself. Why do I continue to feel the need to have all your stuff lingering around the house. It’s not like you’re coming back to use them ever again, so what’s the big deal?!
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A grieving widow who is trying to find meaning and purpose from her tragic event.