March 10th was one year. What to say about it now ...

As for sleeping goes I am back to being tired all the time, sleeping a lot and struggling for energy, severe depression, etc.

There is still a huge frustration as to exactly what I'm feeling and/or feeling both extremes of a spectrum at the same time and in a way that has been atypical with the prior oxymorons of this hell. Such as numb right beside all the rest of the feelings. Numb hasn't been a big player for me so to cry and be numb at the same time is confusing on a whole different level. 

I don't know if I can use the word relief but there is something along those lines. I don't know if it's because a year is over and I can see something of hindsight or because any dates that had meaning to me (from December until now) are finally over. Yet I know they are not actually over. I will have to live through them again and that is petrifying.

There is also a shock in the fact of it being a year but not in the way normal people say it. It hasn't been a year because I have relived this nightmare every day. It has felt like a damn eternity. The line in the sand of before and now has no turning back. Before seems to have never existed. But yet I feel the definite time mark of a year and maybe that's the part of hindsight, I don't know.

Going into this date has been different from other date triggers. Others I went down fast - pretty much hitting me that day or in one case being blindsided with it. But this one was like I was living in a foggy morgue day in/day out. I felt myself slowly going down the last week in February and then March 1st went the deep descent and I stayed there. My handle of emotions were so loose and vague, still are to a great degree. The weekend before the anniversary date I was in bed crying to Gary. I told him I don't want to be here anymore. I said it again with force and emphasis. How I meant every word. I felt the power of my words. My crying turned to the hiccup in my breathing which then turned into sobbing. By that time I felt he had come to me having that jumpy feeling like I wasn't alone.         

This is not to say I'm out of the black hole. I may be starting the ascent, I don't know. Nor am I by far out of hell. That is where I will return to. Every day is some form of living in my pure hell - that doesn't change. There has never been waves or roller coasters of grief. Nothing of it "comes and goes". First losing Gary and in the ways I did was the dark in the dark of hell - the super raw and suicidal pain. Then it went to a constant state of emotional hell. And now with any dates of trigger it's down the black hole of hell. There are so many facets to this. Some change shape while some remain the same. I struggle very much with the term of "better". No, nothing is "better". Few things are actually worse. I'm back with counseling twice a week and looking into a different kind of group therapy setting. 

I don't feel satisfaction with my words. They feel lacking, empty. I have more to say but words aren't there. My pain says one thing. My logic another. My heart maybe another. All while the world still turns, still adds shit to the pile.