Yeah, this has been a trying week. I haven’t been sleeping well again: Bubbey’s snoring has hit an all-time high these days, so I sleep on my CB2 daybed now in my office. Even when he wears the nose strips, it doesn’t help. When I reflect back to this past month, I feel so discouraged about the lost time… like already, almost another month has come and gone. In March, I was feeling so awesome: I had been doing that 7-minute workout, I was getting my energy back, I was ramping up with my coaching sessions and professional developments and networking, I was doing stuff with friends… Then, Remy started having issues again, John went home for a week, came back, and bam, she was gone.

Sure, I had visitors and whatever to distract me and keep me from crying in bed all day, but shit, no matter how you slice it, I’m officially off the wagon… off ALL wagons. I haven’t been to the ranch since god knows when. No 7-minute workout. No spinach smoothie diet. No ukulele. No committed meditation practice. No yoga. No nothing. I even stopped my weekly coaching sessions. I mean, all facets are just stopped.

I try to rationalize all this loss of momentum. Sure, the loss of Remy is massive. Three weeks later, and I’m still crying at the drop of a fucking dime. I had a job interview this afternoon with an area city. It was an interesting experience– pretty sterile and hyper-procedural to be honest, but whatever. I went to the mall after that, and had myself a bit of retail therapy, and then in the car on the drive home? Tears. Later this evening, I go soak in the hot tub. More tears.

I dunno what I expected in terms of where I would be by now… I mean, I’d always dreaded her passing, anticipating with fair certainty that I was going to be a disaster afterwards. And then I thought I handled it relatively well when the time finally came, but now I find myself wondering when will I truly get back to normalcy? Am I demanding too much of myself? But I mean, what happens to people who have to still show up at a job and shit? I dunno. Sometimes, my mind is just unrelenting, you know? If I’m not obsessing over what’s wrong with me, I’m obsessing over external factors, other things in the world that I cannot control.

Recently whenever I’ve looked at myself in the mirror, I see such a tired and aged face. My skin texture is better (thanks to the acne brush on my Clarisonic), but damn, my eyes or something just look frickin’ haggard. What the hell???? And my arms are flabby again. When I tried on a bunch of sleeveless tops today at the mall, shit was squishing out the sides. WTF. I know, I’m doing it again: the goddamn nitpicking. Argh, have I learned nothing from all those positive psychology classes and readings? Don’t expend the energy on the self criticism and blame: get back on the damn wagon! Yeah, that 7-minute workout. Such a minimal time commitment, and it really got so much easier after I started doing it consistently. Well that’s all down the drain. I have not picked it up again since Pamela left the day after Remy died.

Argh. Maybe tomorrow. Mind over body. Mind over body. I’m so tired and unmotivated, like I need a boost from somewhere, something, I dunno what exactly. I just don’t know. I suppose that’s what signals a funk, right? Some nebulous malaise and lethargy with no real answers. I feel myself slipping in a fits and spurts kind of way: two steps forward, three steps back kind of thing.

This weekend, John and I are celebrating our 11th wedding anniversary in Yosemite. We’re taking Martin along. Remy was with us for all the other anniversaries. Sometimes, John would even have the pups “sign” my card. But she’s gone now. She really is gone.