I have a toothache.  Perhaps I should say “teethache” since I am getting pain from both an upper and a lower molar.  The upper I can understand because it’s only half a tooth and doesn’t know any better.  It fell apart during the trial just like the rest of me.  I am disappointed in the other one, though.  I put it down to jealousy.  The dentist worked on the other half of my mouth last week.

Seriously, though, I have no one to blame but myself.  I hadn’t been to the dentist since before the murders.  Depression does that.  All the usual day to day things that you accomplish routinely just don’t happen.  Every task is way too much effort.  Short term memory flies out the window, too.  If I had been able to make an appointment, I don’t think I would have remembered to go.  It’s probably lucky I remembered to brush my teeth.

Now that I am feeling a bit better, I see the huge mess my life has become and it’s almost like finding yourself  looking at Mt. Everest when all you planned to do was climb a hill.  I keep telling myself to take one step at a time, but it’s hard not to be overwhelmed.  I wasn’t really sure I could climb the hill, let alone scale a mountain.  I wish the boys were here.  It was easier to do things when the boys were here.  Neal was a big help and encouragement and Devon and Ian thought I could do anything.  It’s much harder to hear their voices now, when I have to hear them with my heart and not my ears.

Dentist for Valentine’s Day.  Sigh.  Monkey.


About griefsjourney

Neal's mom. Devon's and Ian's Oma.
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