Not so much acceptance as defeat.

This is such shit.

Today I feel a little different.  I said in my last post that I feel like I've been running away from March 4th as fast as I can.  Today I might have stopped running.  For a minute I thought this might be something like acceptance.  I think the shock has warn off a bit.  It feels real.  But it doesn't feel the way I think/hope acceptance will.  I just feel bludgeoned.  Eventually you submit to the blows, I guess.

But then again, I could easily start screaming and rip someone's face off for not giving me back my baby lady.  The way I miss that girl feels a lot like rage.  Therein lies the real truth that has defeated me:  I don't feel any way, except bad, for very long.

I'm vaguely aware that I might not be doing the things I'm supposed to do.  I'm certainly not exceeding expectations, if I'm meeting them at all.  I'm slow these days, slower than usual, and I have to go to bed early to allow for a good hour or two of grief that I can't squeeze in during the day.  I'm scraping by at school, but it feels tenuous.  But what the hell can I do?

And I keep buying books about dogs, regardless of my budget.