Today

I hate today. I hate everything about it. It's been three months and I've been crying all day.

Firsts

The first times are almost always the worst. Some of the firsts that have gotten me were surprising.

• Hanging out with friends, any of them, was hard. Seeing all of them is like a knife in the heart. Knowing that Shaun was missing kills me. I love being with friends but Shaun's absence for me is greater when I'm with other people.
• Driving the car. I didn't realize that when I drove my car my husband was almost always with me unless I was going to work. We went so many places together and did so many things. He almost always drove also so me driving was even worse.
• Coming home and knowing he wouldn't be there.
• Getting sick with a cold. Not that my husband was the most caring when it came to illness. At least before he would get me medicine and tell me I was beautiful even when I didn't feel like it. He would kiss me when my face was all snotty and tell me he was a champion and I couldn't get him sick. Most of the time he was right.
• Going back to work.
• Making food that use to be mine or his favorite. Cooking is horrible. I don't enjoy eating anyways and then to make something that had so many good memories associated with it is hard. Anything I cook for the first time is hard.
• Buying anything. I bought a new TV and all I could think was that my husband would be mad because it wasn't as big as he wanted and I didn't shop around like he would have. It was a good deal though.
• Realizing that there are things that I will have to ask for help with now. I'm not big and strong like my husband was and there are just too many things that I'm not able to do. Luckily he left me with quite a few large and strong friends that are willing to help if I need it.
• Realizing that I'm it. Stuff won't get done unless I do it. Dishes won't be cleaned, Sammie won't get walked, the trash won't take itself out. On the flip side of that things also don't go missing anymore. That bottle of wine is still in the rack, the leftovers are still in the fridge, my towel is always hanging up, and the toothpaste is only as empty as I left it. Going from being a one half of a whole to being all that's left is a very hard adjustment. One that I will be trying to get used to for a long long time.
• Any celebration. My husband died, then it was Mother's day, then his mother's birthday, then his birthday, then the first month was gone and I couldn't figure out where the time had gone. The firsts are going to keep getting me until this first year is up. Then it will be the second time around for everything and maybe it won't be so bad. I hope.

Firsts are going to keep getting me. Probably for the rest of my life. There's a first time for everything and unfortunately there is now a whole new set that I'm am trying to work through.

Screw you Karli

Things to do to guarantee you'll bawl your eyes out: first get a little drunk, second look at pictures of your late husband, third listen to an old voicemail from him telling you he loves you, fourth watch a video of him being silly, fifth walk around your giant empty house and think about how it doesn't matter what you do or where you go you are always always always lonely and sad. Oh yes and you must start by going out to a lounge for the first time without him...yes that's all you have to do. Relatively simple concepts but hard to do and once you get started you'll be completely and utterly depressed. You know, just a typical night in Karliland.

Plan on living

So I was never someone who was scared of death or of the unknown. I always thought that what happens happens and there's nothing you can do about it. When my husband died everything changed. Everything. I was suddenly terrified of dying, of the unknown, of leaving behind so many things that I felt were unfinished in my life. I was scared that I really didn't know what happened to him, where he was or what he was doing.

I had to make the conscious decision to live. I didn't want to, I completely lost any desire to be alive anymore. Losing the will to live is possibly the most terrifying thing I've ever experienced. To truly not care if I woke up or not, it's not something I would ever want to go through again.

At the same time I was scared of what it would mean to die. I was scared for not just myself but for my friends and family. They had already suffered such a huge loss, could I really give up and make them suffer more? So I have kept myself alive. I've even lived a little bit. It's hard and heart wrenching to do things without my husband. I always wanted to experience things with him and now I never will again. Everything new is even more so because he isn't here with me to share in the experience.

I have to plan on living now. I can't keep looking behind me and expecting something horrible is going to happen. So I plan my life. I decide where I'm going to go and what I'm going to do. It may not seem like much but believe me when I say it's hard. Harder than I ever thought possible. When you just want to curl up in a ball and forget about the world...yes it's hard. I'm alive though, I have a chance of a lifetime, a chance that I don't want but I can't help think how angry my husband would be if I just wasted it. Oh and he would be. Absolutely furious.

I don't plan on dying tomorrow, but now I understand when they say "live like you're dying". My husband lived so much in his short 28 years. He did what he wanted when he wanted. He always said "It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission." Man I miss him. Every moment I miss him. I guess my life goes on though. I guess I plan to live.

Food

Some people are stress eaters, I'm a stress starver. Anytime something is going on in my life from a test to the death of my husband I just can't stomach food. I get physically nauseous and if it's really bad, like these past few weeks, food will actually make me throw up. Just the thought of food makes me sick now. I have to force myself to eat a little bit each day. Some days are better than others, some foods I still actually eat a lot of (pasta mainly and by "a lot" I mean almost an entire serving).

If you knew me at all before my husband's death then you know I was an eater. Everything in sight that was edible I would eat all of if not at least try once. I have a fast metabolism and I always have. When my husband died I didn't eat for almost three days. You have to eat to live, but I hate eating. Food has become my enemy, a necessary evil.

In the first week of my husbands death I dropped almost 10 pounds, by the second week I had lost another 4. At 6ft tall I went from being a healthy 167 to 153. Now it's not that I'm unhealthy at this weight, it's just the way I lost it and how quickly that is the problem. I realized when I almost passed out going up my stairs that if I wanted to stay out of a hospital I would have to make myself eat. Which I do, mostly. I've at least stopped losing weight for now.

The other thing about food is that I used to love to cook. I loved cooking for my husband. I loved when he liked what I made and would eat everything in the pan. I loved that even when it wasn't the best he would just put hot sauce on it and call it good (while dropping a hint or two that it wasn't the best). I loved that he bragged about me, even if I'm not the best in the world, I was the best in his.

Sammie and Shaun

Played a video of my husband and Sammie perked up. I felt bad. She recognized his voice and was looking for him. I know how she feels. I don't even know why I play that stupid video. All it does is make me sad. I really did feel bad for Sammie hearing it though. She's been weird ever since he died and the voice in the video just made it a little worse. She's been pretty depressed also, my cat on the other hand couldn't care less. Cause he's a cat and he's a jerk.

Make no mistake

I've noticed, and I'm grateful, that many people are attempting to treat me like they did before my husband died. I feel like I put on a good show. I don't cry in public very often and I can laugh and enjoy a conversation or movie. I feel like people look at me and don't know what to do or say and that's ok. I know how it looks from the outside. I've been on the outside before. Not many know what it looks like from my point of view though. I'm broken and I'm not the same person. I'm trying which is what most people see. They see me trying to be who I use to be. I think I'm still here somewhere. Maybe not though. I'm not really sure of those things anymore. When my husband was alive I was so very sure of my life and where I stood. Now I just don't know. One more day down and I don't know how many to go.