Did I mention yet that I'm sick of this widow "thing"

You know you've had a long day when you are disgustingly dirty and you are still debating whether it's worth it to take a shower or if your too tired and should just go to bed all gross. The shower won but it was seriously close. So what did I do to get so dirty? What happened? Nothing happened, everything happened. It was just another day being a widow.

I have been working for weeks on painting these set of hutches I want to use for an entertainment center in our new house. Well I finally finished them. Then I wanted to put them together to see how they looked and to get them out of the way. Hey guess what? One person can't really lift a hutch top by themselves. I knew this. But I am so dam sick of asking people for help for every stupid thing, Of trying to figure out who to call and who would be willing to help me. Of arranging a time when they can do so. It is seriously a five second job (i know I just talked about this, but it's still heavy on my mind). Two people can lift the top half of a hutch onto it's base in less then a minute. But I am no longer two people, I am one people, for one people it's impossible. Tired of having to ask for help all the time, certain that people are getting tired of me asking them, I just decided to do it myself anyway. Can you see where this is going? I can't actually lift it by myself, just flat out can't. After several failed halfway attempts it ended with one falling to the ground and knocking the other one down with it. They are broken in several spots. Laying in the middle of the floor, In a way it feels fitting, like how much of my life feels. Splattered on the floor unable to move, totally broken, but from a distance I don't look broken and by standers wonder why I'm just lying on the floor taking up space. Why haven't I moved? They can't see that I'm broken. The brand new paint is all scratched to hell. I am really really sore and have several bruises.

So what did I do about it. I layed on the construction floor with sawdust and drywall bits and broken nails crying my head off because my husband won't be coming home to help me. He won't ask if I'm ok. I can't call him crying. I can't even text him. He won't fix me a bath to help my sore muscles (yes he used to do that). He won't tell me don't worry the hutch can be fixed. He won't make me sit down and rest. He won't help me lift it up when he gets home from work. He won't get home from work ever again. So I cried. I cried for a long time until my friend texted me and asked me if she should grab me a cheeseburger on her way over. She told me last week she was coming over but I had forgotten. I tried to get myself together before she showed up. But then she did something amazing, she showed up, she saw I had been crying and she hugged me. She didn't ask what was wrong she just hugged me. So then I cried some more. Then we ate lunch because she also brought food. Did I mention shes awesome.

I told her I felt like an idiot for thinking I could fix this house up without him. To think I could do anything without him. It's ironic because as I've said before Dan was not a "handy man" Dan couldn't fix anything, Dan fixed people, that's what he was great at. Yet I need his help to fix this house. I told my therapist I thought people were getting tired of helping me all the time. She tried to assure me they are not, that they want to help me, for me and for baby girl, and for Dan. That they want to help because they know Dan can't. She probably has a good point. Asking for help is hard, I'm not the person that asks for help, I'm the person that helps others when they need it. That's my "role" in life, I help people out, I help them do stuff, I watch their kids, etc. I feel like it's been the opposite since Dan died, I've barely helped anybody. Everyone has helped me. I still need help. I'm still not back to my old self and I never will be. I need to accept that I need help, that I can't lift a hutch on my own. Blarg that is a big challenge.