Different somehow

This grief is different for me. Normally no one sees me cry. I am strong, dry eyed and moving on to the next task needing to be done. My tears are seen in the shower only to me. It's a very personal thing. The outward sign was usually my choice of food. Comfort foods. Lots of carbs. This is different slightly.

Appetite is not a thing right now for me. I don't want to drown in comfort foods. I don't want the sweets or chips or dip. I am actively choosing foods within the diet outlined by the nutritionist, and when I can't decide my hubby chooses for me from the list that's posted. On many levels this is progress, and I am glad for it. But I am numb. The emotions are hitting me in waves at the most unexpected times, and usually darn inconvenient ones to boot. It's....different. Not bad, not better, just different.

I have my job to keep me busy during the day. I have my college course work for the evenings. My hubby and I are playing an online game at night for a couple of hours. In between I am cross-stitching. It is all an effort to keep me from thinking about how I should have been on a plane home to my family. The irony of this is the disease that killed her is also keeping me from being with those left behind to pick up the pieces.

Daily mantra....I make it work because that is what I do. Words I literally live by every single day. My aunt's mantra probably had a lot to do with laughing through the tough times, and making the most of every single day. That's how she lived every single day/