Day one of grief almost over. Lots of ruminating today but still found moments of joy. People are being very supportive. I feel terrible and will for awhile.
But I'm trying to make it so he didn't die in vain. To be a little kinder to everyone. To not take anyone for granted and let them know how much I care. To not be so wrapped up in my own pain that I don't notice someone else's. I can't control what people do to themselves but I can learn from this, there are lessons, it doesn't have to be for nothing, we can create meaning in it.
I need to be strong for him. He'd want me to. I need to be healthy, to take care of myself in the ways I wish he would have. I need to be warmer, less judgmental and fearful, more communicative, more loving. I need to know he's okay somewhere. I need him to feel my love.
I can't believe it. I feel so fucking bad, angry, regretful, sad... A lot of men have hurt me, but no one as much as this.
Disbelief, shock. I was his last love. Some moments I feel like he's with me, watching, and I feel embarrassed for him to see. I feel guilty/furious that I didn't get a proper goodbye. I've never regretted anything this much before. It's not right. He had no idea I cared. I am hurting about that so hard. If only... If only... etc.
But I will be okay, eventually. My brain is trying its best to digest loss. I am trying to practice self compassion, alternating between letting myself feel pain, and taking many mini breaks wherever pleasant distractions can be found. And I am writing my feelings, documenting every thought, so I can stay present, make sense of it, process it, and move forward through it in as healthy way possible.
He was atheist. I don't think he believed in life after death, and I think that's what made grief so hard for him when his grandpa and cousin died. I feel his pain now. Give me your pain, love. I'll live with it for you from now on, while you rest.
10:34 p.m. - 2022-10-24