Groundhog Day in hell

Finally cried myself out and fell asleep at about midnight.

Woke up a few minutes before 4:00 AM, so the sleep deprivation is still in full force.

Still no dreams or signs from Doug. I'm not even surprised anymore; if he still exists in some form, it's clear that he's either forgotten me or just doesn't care enough to try and communicate with me.

Being alone all the time is making my already fragile emotional state even more fragile, and it doesn't matter what I try to do to mitigate that: social media, phone calls, even video calls - they provide a few minutes of distraction, but then I feel even worse when they're over than I did before.

Every day, I think to myself, "Surely, this is it - this is rock bottom." And every day, I'm wrong.

Everyone's upset about their lives being disrupted, and with good reason. But here's the thing: for most of you, when this virus finally burns itself out, you'll get to return to your normal lives. My disruption is permanent. And, frankly, I'm tired of hearing that I'm strong enough, and I can and will make it through this.

I don't WANT to make it through this. 

I'm not sure why that's so difficult for people to understand. I'm done. I'm tired. I'm over it. This is not a life, and it's not going to get any better when the pandemic crisis has passed - because Doug will still be gone.

And this isn't even about wanting to be with Doug anymore: if the lack of visits from him is any indication, the odds are that I won't see him again. And I both fear and hate that. But ultimately, it doesn't matter. What matters is that, if I had a door I could walk through and just be... finished? I'd walk through it right now, with zero regrets, because there's nothing left for me to do, and because I couldn't care less about being an inspirational story of a pitiful widow who persevered and kept on going even though her life isn't worth living. I want to walk through the damn door. But there is no door.

Imagine having no water. Imagine being so parched that your every waking moment is consumed by the NEED to drink water - but there's no water to be had, and you know there's never going to be water. It's all you can think about: ice cold water, and how you can't possibly go on without it. People keep telling you that, say, eating cucumbers or watermelon or some other thirst-quenching food will get the job done, but you know that it won't: what you need is water, and you can never have any, and you just have to keep suffering and feeling that need that won't go away.

That's kind of how I feel. I'm done, and I need to leave, but I can't leave.

Funny that I was able to will myself to go into labor with my son so that I could bring a new life into the world at the time of my choosing, but I can't seem to will my heart to stop beating.

But I'm going to keep trying.