This is a weird post to write, but I think I need to get this out… so… here goes.

I am *not* okay.

I know I’ve said that before and I know it sounds simple, but seriously, I am not okay.

The grieving process for me has been whacky to say the least. My favorite person in the world, the reason I bothered to do anything even halfway right in my life, is gone. But grieving that loss has been next to impossible with all of the family obligations I’ve had with Mia’s healthcare and the dogs. And work is INSANE right now as well.

I’m doing the best I can to get through each day but I’ve noticed some side effects to this grief, or maybe just my grieving process, that are not fun and kinda scare me.

I don’t want to see, speak, or interact with people who know me best – As in, I’ve been invited places by people I love and consider best friends, and my brain starts manically screaming “NO. NO. NO. NO” in response.

I’ve always been a social person and while I’ve had periods of time when I turn inward, this is different. This is more like a phobia. The thought of being around the people who know me best truly sends me into a complete and total meltdown.

I’m trying to get this under control in small ways. For example. I’m regularly texting a few friends. I’m responding to most of the texts sent to me. I’ve even started forcing myself to respond to people’s posts on my FB wall.

But still… I can’t imagine myself around my friends. I don’t want to. The only people I want to see or talk to or engage with at all are family, nurses, and doctors. I’m doing okay with coworkers, but I’m also left alone a lot of the time at work and the subject matter is very predictable.

**Edit** Vince’s family just came over and I couldn’t come out of my bedroom. I forced myself out for a minute and had to run back in to have a full on panic attack. This is what I’m talking about. What the hell is wrong with me?

I don’t give a crap about how I look – This is fine, I know it’s fine, but I’m starting to feel pretty damn fat. So I guess maybe I do give a crap because I care enough to notice. But either way… not caring what goes into my body, how I look when I’m out and about, and schlepping to and from work and hospitals, is just… awful. It’s not me. But some days, it’s the best I can do. I do believe I am saving a lot of money on make-up though… so there’s that.

Sometimes my thoughts are out of my control – Like, last night I couldn’t stop remembering the moments I was on the floor of Timmy’s house, screaming and sobbing, while Vince begged the nurses not to give up on my Dad. The memories were flooding my mind and I had to get up and walk around the house to stop them and the complete heartbreak that comes with them.

And then there’s time when I look at the pictures of me and Daddy I have on my phone cover and I have to turn away because all I can think is “he’s dead. he’s gone. you can’t ever speak to him again.” (This is new, btw. That photo used to give me comfort. Now I find myself avoiding it).

It’s like my thoughts are out of my control and the memories, the pain, my reactions to the loss of my Dad… those all take over.

Sooooo now that anyone who has read this thinks I’m crazy…

I don’t FEEL crazy. And I don’t ACT crazy. (At least, no more crazy than I already did, but that’s a fun-crazy, ya know what I mean?)

I’m doing just fine – better than fine, even – at interacting with my coworkers, immediate family (like The Uncles, Cari, and Corey), and simple acquaintances (like my neighbor, eyelash girl, hair stylist, etc.). I’m GREAT with complete strangers. I’m great as long as I’m busy.

If I had to take a guess at psychoanalyzing myself I would say that, as far as #3 goes, I’m trying to avoid confronting the extremely traumatizing experience of losing my Dad long-distance and I’m failing.

As far as #2 goes – meh. It’ll come back. It’s already starting to. But I’m gunna have to dig myself out of a +15lb hole when I’m ready.

But #1… #1 is the worst. I think I’m avoiding people who knew me as happy, blessed, loved,… the Ali who has a Daddy. The Luckiest Girl EVER.

And inside I feel like that Ali is gone. She died with her Dad. I see the world in different colors now. I feel different. I feel broken. And I don’t want the people who knew me before to have to see me now.

So there. Those are my side effects so far. The ones that scare me the most. Maybe putting them out there will help me get past them. I see a psychiatrist on Tuesday and plan on being completely open an transparent about all of these things. I’ll letcha know how it goes.