A Small Decorative Box.

It’s been a shitty few days.

Yesterday, I feel that I took the first steps away fro the shit show that is depression.  I asked my wife to call the MHMR crisis line for my county. I spoke with a counselor over the phone, and they dispatched a “mobile crisis team” to my house. I met with two of their team and I am taking steps to get help. I am looking to enter into a PHP/IOP here in a few weeks.

They are also setting me up with a therapist and hopefully I will get along with them.

I started to perk up yesterday. I made it out of bed and actually cooked some food. I also went out into public to pick up some smokes and did OK. I felt like things were getting better…

Then today happened.

We received Boo’s ashes back and now we have a physical reminder of her loss. It’s sitting in our bedroom, staring us in the face. All of the pain that had started to wane came flooding back into me. It knocked me down, but not out. I am fighting today. I am fighting the urge to curl up in bed and watch “The Office” all day. I am fighting to actually eat real food and not just pop-tarts. I am fighting to stay active and not just shut down. I am fighting. I am making my way through this grief and trying to make it to shore; however it isn’t an easy task.

I miss her so much and it hurts.

Despite that she is gone, I know that I have to keep on living. I have to keep on fighting. I will make it to that shore, and I am going to be OK.

I may need some more coffee, though. This shit is rough.

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