I came across an account on Instagram, https://www.instagram.com/hernameisgrief/, and I recognize all that pain. And I certainly understand the anger at the rest of the world that is so profoundly ignorant, uncaring, and unthinking (yes, that includes you) about how painful this is for those of us going through it. There is no way for you to really understand it without experiencing it, and I don't wish that on anyone.
Gloria is dead, and my life is absolutely and completely changed. It is changed just because she died. I don't have that life any more. It's gone. I am not rebuilding my life. It's gone, and it's not coming back, because Gloria is not coming back. She's dead. Dead means gone. And so is my life. Two things are simultaneously true: Gloria is dead, and I am still ... not dead yet. I am moving around, but this is not a life.
I am building a new life. Not completely from scratch: for some reason I still know how to talk, pay bills, and move myself from place to place, so I don't have to learn those things all over again. But pretty much everything else is different than it was before.
I don't really know why I am building a new life. But it's either that or just sit and be completely miserable for as long as I have to stay alive until I die, so I might as well. But I don't particularly like it, and I'm certainly not enjoying it. I have pretty much nothing to look forward to, at the moment, so I'm just keeping on. That's all.
This is not just a momentary pity party or bad day. This is how my so-called-life has been for the past year. This is what I "live" with all the time. Constantly.
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