This whole grieving process is confusing. Monday night, I finally slept most of the night. Granted, I took a Benadryl the night before. Nonetheless, I slept. I didn't toss and turn all night long, replaying the week's events in my mind. Then Tuesday, I felt good-almost like myself again. I barely even cried. I even felt a little guilty for feeling so good. After all, I'm not even a week out. I should still be a mess, right? Wouldn't a good mother still be a blubbering mess at this point?
But now, I'm back to feeling...I don't even know how to describe it...blah, I guess. My head pounds, my body still isn't back to normal, and my mind is elsewhere. Rylan and I went on a walk this morning. But instead of focusing on the beautiful weather, my perfect little boy with his new haircut, or anything else that would have made me smile yesterday, I just wanted to go back to bed.
People keep telling me to give myself time, to let myself grieve, to just roll with whatever I'm feeling. I guess they're right. Grief is weird. Just roll with it.