Surviving a day

This has been one of the hardest days I've had since my husband died. On my days off, I've been coming close to being a hermit, my traditional, trusty, old reliable self-protective mechanism. I know this territory well. The scariest thing here is what's inside my head, and though that's scary enough, I have an idea of how to handle it. I reserve a good bit of energy to be outgoing and cheerful at work, and though I know what a hollow sham that really is, it gets me through.

Today though, I had things I had to do. A migraine on Monday led to my blood pressure getting checked, and before the demerol kicked in, the ER doc told me to follow up with my doctor. I went today, and found out the RN there had told R. only two weeks before he died that some things he was wondering about sounded like cardiac symptoms that he should have checked out. Of course, he didn't follow through. I found out today that she had been widowed in her forties as well. For some reason, this opened up the dam, and some stuff I haven't been able to say just poured out. Now, in the past, I've done this only with very, very close friends. Losing it with a professional acquaintance would have been unheard of. Near strangers tell me stuff like this, not the other way around. It just feels strange. Then in my exam, I could just tell that my doctor was taking more than usual time, almost as if afraid of missing something. It cracked open the door to my poorly concealed hypochondria, and though basically healthy, I'm feeling my own mortality.

Throughout my other errands, I kept running into people I haven't seen, people who wanted to offer kindnesses. People have been wonderful. A private person, I often feel anonymous, and that illusion has been shattered. I truly appreciate the love that's coming forth right now, but it still makes me uncomfortable. In some ways, it pulls on the wound. I don't know how to handle this, and as a result, I'm just feeling sorry for myself today. That's one of the ugliest emotions I know. I'm rolling in it and hating myself for it. I feel like a pre-schooler screaming, "But that's not fair!" and the mean old adult saying, "Who said life was fair in the first place?" at the same time.

In one day, I've been hurting, fearful, grateful, embarrassed, loved, self-pitying, disgusted with myself, angry, anxious and now exhausted. I have to gear up for work tomorrow and the results of a visit from higher managers. Though not worried, it's a concern. C.'s graduation is tomorrow night, and I'll be around a lot family and friends. I so wish R. could be there, and while I'm so proud of C., part of me is dreading the evening.

This is the kind of day when I have to remind myself to breathe.