attempting normal

grief feels like depression but my body knows they are different because I am basically immobilized by depression and with grief I can't stop moving like a shark I feel I will die if I stop moving this morning my son left which is both good and bad I need to be alone for a while but his presence even if he's only here a couple hours each day gives me a reason not to give in to the hot unmanageable tears and loud wailing his presence forces me to swallow my guilt and shame to grow them in my belly like a terrible baby and so a couple hours ago I made a big pot of marinara now I have decided to cook a lasagna with fresh ricotta and mascarpone and seared zucchini and caramelized onions and then I filled a large bowl with frozen strawberries and mangoes and peaches to make a ton of smoothies that I can live on because I honestly don't feel like eating I just want to cook a little while ago I went out and swept the deck in my holly berry nightgown (another good thing when my son is here I feel obliged to get dressed) and no underwear and my long sweater I swept the hell out of the deck kicking frozen pine cones with my slippers the metal handle of the push broom so cold that my hands ached (note to self: don't buy a cheap push broom) then I came in and vacuumed and dusted and watered the plants and watched House until I was sure I had at least eleven highly unusual diseases

I hurt everywhere but I don't hurt hurt but I ache just the same

yesterday I went to The Country Store that's the actual name of the store a huge place that sells everything from cowboy boots to horse tack to hay to canning supplies you name it and it's there and the whole store smelled like my grandfather's barn and I wandered and wandered just breathing it in

I was going to write some stuff here from my diary stuff I wrote before the innerlubes arrived but I'm afraid to write it now for fear someone will think I need to be locked up The Johnny Cash Psychiatrist always thought I needed to be locked up I resisted for obvious reasons i.e. I had a job at the time and etc and also fear of being locked up

here is a fuzzy photo of the snow geese who are now hanging out in a field behind the Dairy Queen on my beloved island it's fuzzy because I can't seem to stop shaking unless I'm playing my violin

love