The Struggle

The best thing I could have done was returned to my dear counselor a couple of weeks ago.  I don't know what happened.  Everything had fallen into place, and I was doing well.  Then wham, bam!  The little signs of depression were creeping back into my mind.
One thing I found that I enjoy is my daily walks.  They become elating, as I march along talking to you, God, smiling, weeping.  Seems to put the afternoon into perspective.  Even after two years it is humbling that I take such pride in feeling married in my heart, even though you aren't physically here.
I've been told by so many - pastor, other widows, even my dear counselor, that there is nothing wrong with me and I am perfectly normal in every way.  I guess I take too much stock in what I believe others are thinking or may be saying about me.  Like my counselor said, "When did you become a mind reader?"  Well, I'm not.
My mantra to God is to just let me be me now, wear my rings, keep my last name, be known as your beloved wife forevermore.  I'm not doing anything wrong, nor is the enjoyment of living on my own, in our home, and taking care of everything myself.  I do ask for help when I need it.  I'm not stupid!
But, some things remain a struggle lately, like getting up in the morning and feeling the anxiety creep in.  Coming home and that feeling of emptiness being back where the cat once filled. 
I chalk it up to the little grief monster of depression, and tell God, oh come on.  That's enough.  Take it away, for Christ sake.  How long do I have to suffer?  Can't I have peace in my heart with living on my own, not worrying about my next dime or that I can't do this?  Enough, God.  Please, enough.