Pandora's Box of Vexations.

I have discovered with a loved one's death came a Pandora's box of vexations. And every day I try hard not to lift that lid and every day I lift that lid. Releasing all the demons out, releasing all the annoying, irritating, vexations into the realm of my reality. And now I believe I have fallen into that box in the proverbial way, and am struggling to get out in the realistic way.

The deep dark richness of grief has turned into a funk, into a black funk. And reality has been a slap in the face. A hard one. You go from two incomes to barely one, and struggle to find enough to go around. You go from having your partner in bed every night, his pillows, his side, his nightstand, the safe warm holding of his arms and you are left with the whole bed. One nightstand, and half the pillows gone. You go for two to one, when it wasn't that long ago you went from one to two. And yet that was easier to deal with.

You go out into the world and people ask how you are doing, and you find yourself going out into the world less and less. Why bother stepping out to a place that opens that Pandora's box of vexations even more. So I sit here in my huddled world, and try hard not to open that box, but yet it keeps opening every day. It releases guilt, frustration, worry, anger, sadness, and a plethora of demons that cling on and refuse to let go. I know that people keep saying you have to get up and do, not just say, or think, but do. And every day I try to struggle in those binds that cling to me tight, trying to shake them off, and letting go. And every day I remain closed tight in them.

I am releasing some a wee bit, but with each one I release, another comes to replace. Don't get me wrong, this isn't a party of pity, but more of a studying of that box. There is also laughter, memories, and life that comes from another box. But this Pandora's box of vexations, that one has become a little too much. I wonder if there is a way it can be tossed in the trash, or if one day it will just close on its own. I think that box is also where the panic comes from, the blackness that engulfs me in the middle of the night, fear, fright, sometimes flight. And this surging in the pit of my stomach when it hits, hurry and close that box. Put it back inside.

My rational brain knows that it is time, time to get up and get moving. Time to put order back into my life, time to try and bring structure to my life. Back to my life, and then I wonder why does my other side just not listen. And I find myself back opening that lid.

I wonder if I can get a full refund on that Pandora's box.

Who knows, but.....

Life goes on.............