August 28, 2026

Another day-by-day kind of day.

I had every intention of leaving the house today. I needed to pick up my medications and finally mail the things that have been sitting here waiting for me. Those were the plans.

I did not do either of them.

Instead, I spent a good chunk of the day sitting in bed staring at the ceiling.

My phone rang several times. People were calling to check on me, and I ignored every single one.

If you were one of those people, I’m sorry.

I just don’t want to talk to anyone today.

I know people mean well. I know they’re calling because they care about me, and I’m grateful for that. But today I don’t have the energy to talk, explain how I’m feeling or pretend that I’m okay enough to have a conversation.

Today I just want to be left alone.

Going back to those stupid stages of grief, I think I’m somewhere in the depression and anger neighborhood today. There’s anxiety hanging around too, because apparently grief couldn’t just pick one fucking emotion and stick with it.

Everything feels heavy.

Even getting out of bed feels like a decision I don’t have the energy to make.

And then there are the cicadas.

I know it’s that time of year. I know they’re supposed to be loud. Normally I don’t really care about them. But today the house is so quiet that they’re practically screaming.

And now I feel kind of bad for being so pissed off at them.

I mean, they’re just out there trying to get laid.

Some of these poor little bastards have spent seven years underground waiting for this moment. They finally emerge, spend a few weeks screaming at the top of their tiny little lungs trying to attract a mate, get lucky, and then fucking die.

And here I am, lying in bed all depressed and getting increasingly irritated at them for doing exactly what they came here to do.

They’re just trying to find love.

I’m basically being a bitter old lady yelling at nature because nature is having sex.

I’m sorry, cicadas.

Carry on.

Just… maybe carry on a little quieter.

I tried putting music on to drown them out.

That was a mistake.

The music just made me sad.

So now I’m lying here listening to the cicadas and thinking about how fucking weird grief is.

How can a house be this quiet when the world outside is making so much noise?

How can silence be so damn loud?

Beaker Knows

Even Beaker is unusually quiet today.

That dog is normally into something he shouldn’t be doing every five minutes, but today he’s just staying close to me.

He knows something is up.

I don’t know how he knows, but he does.

He’s been staying near me all day, which is actually pretty sweet considering the little asshole has spent the last couple of weeks making it nearly impossible for me to leave him alone without him committing some sort of household crime.

Today he doesn’t seem interested in destroying anything.

He just wants to be near me.

I think he misses her too.

Maybe we’re both having one of those days where we just don’t have much to give.

At Least There Were Beads

Of course, I did receive an assortment of beads today.

Because apparently I have a problem.

I spent some time sorting them because I might as well make myself useful while I’m sitting here.

I really need to stop with the bead obsession.

At this point, I could probably open an entire bead shop.

Maybe that’s what I should do.

Filly’s Bead Emporium.

Come for the jewelry supplies, stay because I have accidentally purchased enough beads to supply a small craft store for the next decade.

I’m only partially joking.

I might actually add some jewelry-making tools and supplies to the shop eventually. If I’m going to have this ridiculous collection of stuff anyway, I might as well make some of it available to other people.

We’ll see.

For now, they’re sorted.

That’s something.

I also took my meds today and fed Beaker.

I did a piss-poor job of feeding myself, though. I only ate once.

It’s not that I didn’t try. I just wasn’t hungry.

That’s another weird part of grief. Sometimes your body keeps doing things even when your brain isn’t particularly interested in participating. Hunger disappears. Motivation disappears. Time gets weird. You can sit in the same position for hours and suddenly realize half the day is gone.

I know I can’t let myself stay here forever.

I know that.

But I also know I’m going to have days like this.

Today is just a mediocre, shitty day.

Not a crisis.

Not some enormous emotional breakdown.

Just a day where I’m depressed, angry, anxious, tired and completely uninterested in doing much of anything.

And that’s okay.

At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

I had thought about getting up and doing some things in the office tonight, but I think I’m going to hold off for now.

The office will still be there tomorrow.

The medications can be picked up.

The mail can be mailed.

The beads aren’t going anywhere.

And maybe tonight I just need to let myself exist without accomplishing anything.

I’ve been trying so hard to rebuild everything around me. The house. The office. The shop. My routines. My business. My plans.

I’m slowly getting there.

But rebuilding a life isn’t going to happen in a straight line.

Some days I’m going to move forward.

Some days I’m going to stand still.

Some days I’m probably going to crawl backward a little.

I just wish the days where I stand still didn’t feel so fucking soul-sucking.

I wish I could turn the volume down on the silence.

I wish I could walk into the living room and hear Mom.

I wish I could hear her talking to Beaker.

I wish the house felt lived in again.

I wish I could stop knowing exactly what is missing.

But I can’t.

So I sit here.

I listen to the cicadas.

Beaker lies beside me.

And somewhere in all of this, I’m still here.

I took my meds.

I fed the dog.

I ate something.

I sorted some beads.

That’s it.

That’s today.

Maybe tomorrow will be different.

Maybe it won’t.

I guess that’s what day by day means.

Not knowing what tomorrow will bring and getting there anyway.

But seriously…

How the hell do you handle the silence when the silence is so goddamn loud?