I’m one of those people who compulsively keeps track of the time.
It’s been 5 weeks since my mom died. 35 days have now passed since she embarked on her journey to heaven, no more pain and fear, anxiety or anger, the standard elements of the human condition.
I haven’t heard her voice in 33 days, except in a dream where she said I love you.
My final divorce hearing is a week from today and hopefully, I won’t ever have to see that piece of fuck ever again.
It’s going on almost 4 years since the horrific day I tried to kill myself.
In 55 days, I’ll turn 45 years old.
In 56 days, it’ll be 33 years since my dad died.
I’m not exactly sure why I’m wired to keep track of the time, I just am. I’m sure that I’m not the only one who does this. I really do have an obsessive nature, so perhaps that has something to do with it.
I signed up for a daily email from a site called Griefshare. Each day, it gives me something to expect to experience while grieving, a bible verse and then a prayer.
A Time for Everything
1 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
There’s also a grief support group starting up at a church near me on August 3rd (13 weekly sessions) and I am planning on attending it.
After the fiasco with my last therapist, I’m skeptical to try that route again, my trust has been shattered.
Meanwhile, I’m just trying to keep on keeping on.