Sunday, May 22, 2011

About last night...

I continued to eat after I wrote my blog entry last night, until I got uncomfortably full. And then I watched episodes of Numb3rs on Netflix on my computer till 3 a.m. That's an old behavior. It's something I used to do to avoid some pain that came up when I went to bed every night. I was numbing myself and emotionally checking out. I think it's about missing my little dog, still.

Chloe used to curl up on my pillow at bedtime, waiting for me to get in bed. Then once I got under the covers, I'd hold them up and she'd slip under the sheets and start trying to find a spot to sleep in. Sometimes she'd dig at the mattress, until I'd make her stop. Then, if I had settled in and rolled to one side, she'd curl up behind my knees, right next to me. We'd both move around at night, but she'd always find a spot right next to me. In the mornings, the moment I started stirring, Chloe would emerge from the covers and lay her head on my arm until I opened my eyes. Then I'd get some good-morning puppy kisses and we'd snuggle for a few moments. If it was cold, she wouldn't get out of bed until I came back from the bathroom.

This morning I was feeling around for her under the covers, out of habit. This pain of missing her isn't going to go away for awhile. I've not been sleeping well, and that makes me more tired during the day, which makes me want to eat more later in the day. The first thing I need to address is the sleep. Because I don't really know how to address the emotions of grief, except to just go through them and trust that they'll eventually subside.

And I need to get back to some things I used to do that were helpful and good for me, body and soul. Back to Pilates tomorrow morning. And back to work. And later today, I think I'm going to plant a vegetable garden in the backyard. I bought a rototiller at Lowe's last night, plus some organic compost and soil. I have seeds and seed trays. The laundry room is going to turn into a vegetable garden nursery for a few weeks, I think.

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