I hate how clean the house is...

So. Today was kind of tough. I had a meeting with my orthopedist... my arthritis doctor. I had a bone density test, which wouldn't be such a big deal, except by the time I got to the dr's office I was in a lot of pain from driving, and my back, knees and hips were killing me. My pain tolerance is getting higher, I think. Fair enough.
So I met with the good doctor, and he thinks that I may have a nerve being affected by the inflamation in my spine, which is causing the shooting pains, rather than the usual hot poker pain. Need to schedule a MRI.


Ok, so after I meet with the Dr., I go to have bloodwork done. The woman drawing the blood was very nice, and commented on my engagement ring. I get a lot of comments on my ring, usually just "wow, I love your ring" or some such thing... but she took my hand, and looked at it closely, and then looked me in the eye and said "Someone sure loves you a lot, hmmm?"

And I burst into tears. It was the kindest compliment anyone gave me about the ring, and a totally absurd one, because had he given me a ring from a cracker jack box it wouldn't mean any less to me. It just corresponded that the engagement ring shopping came just after he'd received an unexpectedly large bonus at work, so he surprised me with something a lot bigger than I ever expected...

It was just... the way she said it was with such kindness, and then she was so shocked when I told her he did love me a lot, but he's gone now...

So I cried through that, and all the way home. And 5 minutes after I arrived home, the cleaning people my mother arranged to come to the house arrived.

I buried myself in a book in the garden, but this hurt the joints even more...and I came in to a much tidier house. And before they left, the women who cleaned the house said that they were going to pray for me, because they could see how much I was hurting. They're Brazilian, and one didn't speak any English, and I thanked them and hugged them, and then Lucy, who didn't really speak any English took my hands and put her other hand on my head and begin praying very, very emotionally, in Portugese. I understand enough Portugese to get the drift, and I was so touched that I began crying again, and had a hard time stopping. This went on for a good five to ten minutes, with her asking God to take the pain from my heart and my head, and make me well again. Then they left me. In this horribly clean house.

And now I can't stop crying. Adam was a neat freak. He liked things really tidy, and I am, by nature, a clutterbug. He'd usually get up early and clean, or I'd come home from work, and start dinner, relax for an hour and then tidy up before he came home... or when he was out riding on weekends, I'd bum around all day, knitting, reading in my pj's, watching crap tv I'd recorded... and then before he came home, I'd clean for an hour so everything was tidy when he'd arrive.

Now the house is looking pretty damn tidy. And I think I get why it hasn't been for such a long time. He isn't going to come home. I mean, I know that. I know he's never coming back. I get that. I just... I don't really see the point of much without him sometimes. There's this lonliness that comes over me sometimes, and I don't quite know what to do with it. I really don't.

Mostly I'm ok these days. But then I have days like this. When I can't stop crying, and I hate myself for it. And I'm sick of being sick and being in pain, and feeling like I am just torn up inside.

And I'm not sure why I write this here. Maybe there will be someone else who has lost someone and they'll read these occasional posts of misery and they'll know that someone else knows what it feels like.

I know I'll be ok, and I do have amazing love and support in my life. And mostly, I am as happy as I can be. But days like this are really, really, really fucking tough.