Oh how I wish I could hang a sign for just a single day, “Closed for Repairs”!
I keep thinking that tomorrow or next week will be the little bit of respite I need to catch my breath and to do a few things I really must do for my own mental wellness.
But life has conspired to make that impossible.
So here I am, hanging on by a thread again.
Just barely managing to get by.
Just barely managing to not scream in the middle of the grocery store when I can’t lift the case of Powerade bottles into the cart. Just barely able to contain my panic when I reach for my checkbook and can’t find it in the bottom of my purse. Just barely able to keep from crying when the bag rips putting it into the truck.
If the people around me knew how close I am to falling apart or breaking down, they would run away in fear of what might happen if I blow.
Yes, it’s been three years.
But Dominic walked with me on this earth for nearly 24 years. Three years isn’t long enough to adjust to his absence.
I need a day off.
Or a week.
Or a year.