Seven Months

Soooo…the unbelievable happened. I was feeling really depressed on Thursday and Friday and I wasn’t sure why. Depression is a side effect of a medication I was trying out to treat my health issue, so I thought maybe that was the reason. I also was anxiously waiting for a test result, so I thought maybe that was it. Furthermore, I hadn’t been sleeping well and was struggling a bit with a change at work. So there were a myriad of things that could’ve caused my dejected outlook.

Then I looked at the calendar and it hit me. And I. Couldn’t. Believe. It. January 4th marked seven months since my grandmother’s death and I had forgotten. Forgotten. Like it meant nothing to me.

Now, I was in the ER only a week and a half before, but that doesn’t excuse my forgetting this important date. Every. Single. Month. I have been counting the days since my grandmother passed. I’ve counted every miserable minute, every excruciating second I’ve lived through since her death.

What does it mean that I forgot this month?!

The program from her funeral is perched on top of my jewelry box. I look at it every day. Her picture is the lock screen on my phone, which I look at a million times a day. I think of my grandmother all the time. So. what. happened?

I just don’t get it. Does this mean I’ve moved to a new stage of the healing process? It doesn’t feel that way. In fact, I’ve been sad a lot lately, but again, I’m not sure if that’s about my grandmother or my other worries or this medication.

The medication I tried out isn’t helping, so I won’t be taking it after today. I’ll see if I feel “better” once it’s completely out of my system in about a week. (By “better” I mean doing ok, with a layer of sadness about my grandmother hovering underneath everything.)

I just can’t believe I forgot the “monthiversary” of my grandmother’s death. It makes me feel ashamed, like my grandmother’s death doesn’t matter to me anymore. Which obviously isn’t true. But I feel like my not knowing the significance of that date means my grandmother’s death has moved out of the forefront of my mind. But that’s not true either.

I think I’ve just been consumed with how I’m going to manage my disorder and I just…forgot. I shouldn’t beat myself up about it. I’m a human being and humans are fallible. Humans forget things sometimes. Humans make mistakes.

I know all of this is true. But it doesn’t change how terrible I feel about forgetting what January 4th was. I don’t think it ever will.

 

I still can’t believe she’s gone.

 

 

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