Journal Entry

 I didn't write this weekend, but I think that's okay. I was pretty busy and emotionally exhausted. Just about blamed not having access to a computer, I was on a computer most of yesterday - Netflix doesn't have a word docs feature. Also, realized there is a thing called a notebook, I could write on paper. Though if you've seen my handwriting you know what that's not the best idea.

This weekend was tiring. I woke up early on Saturday to attend the Walk to End Alzheimer's. This was my first time doing it. It has been almost two years since my mom passed, and I thought maybe now it was time to start doing something. I also assumed that because I haven't been crying as often or as easily I would be able to get through this without crying, after all, it was a walk, what is emotional about a walk? Apparently everything.

Only a few people asked who I was walking for, that was great. But here's the thing. This is a group activity. People will be there with their family members and friends, having a nice time, and fighting dementia. The only thing worse than being alone in a crowd of people is thinking about the one person who should be there but isn't when surrounded by a crowd of people. Imagine going to Disney world, alone, on your birthday, knowing you had promised your best friend you would go when they were gone, and then you're surrounded by the crowds of smiling, happy, joyful people. This was about ten times worse.  

The crying happened all day. Thank goodness for swag tables with sunglasses and my ability to be invisible. 

The walk itself was lovely. Minneapolis is truly one of the best-looking cities, with tall buildings and great weather, what more could I ask for? Oh, I know, my mom, but that's cool, whatever, I am glad I did it.

Hopefully, this all leads somewhere good, hopefully, we start to figure something out, but until then, like our demented friends, we are wandering around lost and confused, hoping someone can tell us something good.

So I am still exhausted. And I am still pretending to be fine. It's a little easier now that I'm at home where I can close a door and lose myself in everything but my thoughts, but I can feel it. I feel the exhaustion and sadness in my bones, pulling me into a heavy embrace. I am pretending, I am not doing a great job.