Not liking the new normal

Here's one not-so-fun fact about Kathleen-After-Doug: I can't stand the dark anymore, just like I can't stand silence anymore.

Kathleen-Before-and-During-Doug? She LOVED silence, and she LOVED darkness. There was nothing better than falling asleep in a completely dark room (like, so dark you can't see your hand in front of your face), on a chilly night, with the windows open to hear nothing but the sounds of nature.

Last night, I decided I was going to forego my usual "bedtime routine" of watching boring YouTube videos and instead turn off the television: maybe total darkness and quiet would bring sleep my way a little sooner. Yeah, not so much. The complete darkness was claustrophobic: I felt trapped and I couldn't breathe. The sounds of the tree branches creaking in the wind weren't soothing, but instead ominous.

So now I can't even SLEEP the way I've trained myself for decades to sleep. There's no settling in with a relaxed and contented sigh, anticipating the rest to come in the absence of all sensory stimulation (save Doug's arms around me, which of course I'll never feel again, and which I got to feel FAR TOO FEW TIMES). Not for me, no sirree, Bob! Now, I need light, and background noise, and I never settle in to rest so much as I finally pass out when my body simply can't stay awake anymore. And I can't get over the resentment, the bitterness, the BLIND FURY at being robbed of the time we were supposed to have.

I am so jealous of people who've had long and happy marriages. I'm happy for them, but dammit, why could WE have that? Why didn't Doug and I deserve that? WHY ARE WE BEING PUNISHED?!?!?

THESE are the thoughts that fill my head in the darkness and the silence. There's no relaxation. There's no contentment. There's no comfort. There's only wishing for it to stop. But it won't stop. It hasn't stopped in the past 35 days, and it won't stop in the next 35 days, or the 35 days after that, or the 35 days after that, or the 35 days after that. This anguish, this misery, this NIGHTMARE - it will never go away.

I need to escape, and I can't. WHY can't I escape this? Why can't someone TELL me how to escape it beyond, "just take it one day and a time and one day it'll be easier"? Because I don't believe that. I don't. How can I, when every part of my soul is in shreds and just wants to be with him?

Brooke asked me yesterday what I do every day, and I couldn't even really answer her. I do what I have to: take care of the pets, shower and brush my teeth, drink coffee, eat when I can force myself, write, watch television, scroll through Facebook and Reddit... but really, most of my time is spent crying and wishing that I could just stop being.

And I have yet to speak to anyone who can tell me how to stop wishing that. They just promise that it'll happen and I have to have faith; I think it's been well established how I feel about that sentiment.

I know I'm not saying anything I haven't said at least once every single day for the past five weeks. That's because it's all I have to say: I have no hope. I have no purpose. I have no goals. I want to be done. I AM done.

Being forced to be here when I don't want to be is perhaps the most cruel part of this. And I don't even care if people think I'm weak, or that I'm not trying (whatever that's supposed to mean), or whatever judgement they want to pass on me. They didn't get to love and be loved by Doug, so they don't know what I'm missing or how completely broken I am from losing him.