This is kind of a self-pity mind dump because I don’t know where else to put it. I don’t want to talk to my friends or family because I know they’ll offer help and company out of obligation. I’m not doing well, and I don’t want to be alone, but I also don’t know how to be around others.
I’m not functioning. Sure, I do the bare minimum occasionally, but I’m a completely different person than I used to be. The old me had goals and dreams.
I loved being with Scott. He motivated me. We wanted to do and try new things, to break free from the way things had always been done. He was an encourager no matter what crazy idea i had. I strived to be the Proverbs 31 wife so he could "sit at the city gate" proudly. Even at the end, caring for him, I found ways to make him proud.
But now? Now, I’m all alone. I’m unmotivated. And unlike Scott, there’s no one here to take care of me.
This week, I had a crazy fall. For a moment, I thought about just staying there, stuck in the fence, letting the cold take me. But the caretaker in me didn’t want Zach to find me like that, to feel responsible for something he couldn’t control.
I just want someone to reach out because they "want" to, not as a response to a text I send. If I stopped reaching out, I wonder how long it would take for anyone to notice. I just want to disappear.
On a side note: Thirteen years ago today, an internet friend of mine took her own life. I remember posting about it, feeling the weight of her loss, and even though my sweet husband didn’t know her beyond what I had shared, he stepped in with such compassion. He gently pointed our mutual friends toward the hope and love of our Savior.
It’s a small but beautiful memory of the kind of man Scott was—always looking for ways to extend grace, even to strangers, and always ready to shine the light of Christ in the darkest moments.
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