I lost it at work today. For some reason I heard his voice telling me to stop chewing my lip (a bad habit he'd been trying to break me of for some time) and I completely lost it. Went into the bathroom at work and cried, trying not to be too loud because there was someone else in the bathroom. Freaking miserable.

Later that day I was going through my wallet for something and I found the card from the anniversary flowers he sent me last September, telling me that it's only been three years and there were plenty more to come. That was four months ago. Completely lost it. Just about ran away from my desk and didn't bother coming back.

On the way home I stopped by Barnes & Noble and picked up three books on grief that grabbed me as I was flipping through them. Each of them had me going "that's exactly how I'm feeling." I started on "Widow to Widow" and was in tears through the first 60 pages, underlining passage after passage and not able to put it down. It made reference to the WPS and I found a local group that has a six-week series of grief counselling starting on the 14th, so I called to try to reserve a spot.

Just typing the word "widow" is weird. The book even talks about that:

I recall a clear, frozen-in-time memory of the doctor telling me my husband was dead and thinking, "Oh my God, I'm a widow." That said it all.

I remember that. Not at the exact same time, but I remember trying to apply the label to myself and running like hell from it. Which I guess I'm still doing.

I'm gonna go to bed and see if I can sleep without an Ambien tonight.