The eyes are the windows to the soul.  I have heard that saying more than once but I don't remember where.  In a movie perhaps, or maybe in a book.  I wish I could look into his eyes.

 

I hate looking at myself in the mirror.  I see an unkempt woman- not groomed, not pretty.  I look miserable and depressed.  I am on a very famous website right now, pretty and smiling.  That woman is so far away.  I don't even remember her.  People probably see me and just wonder what the hell I am going through.  They probably think that I am on drugs or alcohol- the truth is I am not far from it.  I hate that the kids see me like this.  I try so hard for them to get back to normal but I am just not there yet.

 

I realized yesterday that I have worn the same jeans all week to work.  I have bathed (thankfully) and changed my shirt and under garments everyday.  But I have been wearing the same jeans for a week.  I never really paid it any attention.  I haven't combed my hair in maybe twice as long.  To be completely honest, I have only done something to it two times since my husband died.  I just put it in a ponytail and go. 

 

I am so unhappy.  I know I look it, I feel it.  I have started having panic attacks throughout the day.  I start thinking of my husband and it feels like he was here yesterday and he just died- and I can't breathe.  The pressure bursts in my chest and I can't see anything but him and I cry and struggle to breathe.  I have started my own mantra that I say to try to help pull myself out of it- "Lord give me strength, help me through this."  It doesn't work all the time, but it does help some.  My kids have gotten used to it and that bothers me. 

 

They are still holding up so well and I don't want them to start getting sad again because of me.  They need me and I see it in their eyes but I can't do anymore than what I am doing right now- and it feels like I am not doing enough.  I yelled at them yesterday because they have stopped picking up behind themselves and everyone was whining for my attention at the same time in their own little way and I just couldn't deal with it.  I yelled at them.  I told them it was just me now and I was trying my best but I couldn't do it ALL by myself- that I needed them to help too.  Then I cried, and they all huddled around me and hugged me.  They still didn't clean up- I ended up doing that.  I felt guilty that I yelled at them, so after my outburst I just cleaned up and sat down afterwards and cried some more. 

 

I have started back crying more often again.  Driving down the road, at work, at home, at the store.  I just start crying in outbursts because of a fleeting memory or a familiar scent.  I hate this life.  I want to wake up from this dream and go back to my regular happy life with my husband.  I want his comfort and his support.  His encouraging words and his beautiful eyes.

 

I can't do this all on my own.