holiday dread

The holidays are coming! The holidays are coming! I feel as though someone is shouting at me like in the Revolution when the Redcoats were coming and they needed to get ready for imminent battle.  I am not looking forward to the holidays.  I don't know what I want to do, where I want to be, who I want to be with (um, except Scott, duh) or what in the whoville is going to happen.  I feel as though I am walking on eggshells at all times, I get invites and I don't want to commit to anyone.  So then I feel like I'm hurting their feelings.  But, really, I don't know how I feel.  I don't know what will feel good on these important upcoming days.  I waffle back and forth between wanting to be around friends and family and then back to wanting to hide.  I don't want to be around "someone else's family" and watch them interact - either good or bad.  I definitely don't want to be around any bickering.  I don't want to witness people not appreciating the immense blessing of just having their loved one still alive.  But, then I feel like I'm not giving my friends and family enough credit.  They probably feel like they are the ones walking on eggshells because at any second I could cry.  If I hear a diesel truck drive by I will cry.  If someone talks about hunting, guns, fishing, tractors, boots, camo, military, plaid shirts, dogs, cats,  video games, ooooh just about anything right now that maybe, might remind me of Scott - I might cry.  And right now, I need to be somewhere that's okay.  Where I don't have to be strong and hold myself together.  I've got a whole bunch of firsts coming up, Thanksgiving, my birthday, his birthday, Christmas, our 16th wedding anniversary and then New Year's.  Whammo.  And I'm not looking forward to any of it.  I'm not sending out Christmas cards, sorry.  I don't know if I'll be able to hold myself together.  I do have one trip coming up that I am looking forward to and I'm just hoping and praying it will be peaceful and that I won't offend or hurt anyone.

Last week I said I needed to live in a bubble.  But only if that bubble would be made out of kevlar, have enough room for dogs, and have some sort of weapon just in case.  So, really I need a tank.  I wish I could make myself not feel, protect myself somehow from the pain that continues to come in waves.  It's going to be 8 months in 2 weeks and it still feels so fresh, my mind still sees him and can't believe he's gone.  I still imagine what he'd be doing on a sunny, crisp day - what project he'd be working on outside.  Then today it was rainy a bit and overcast so I imagine what he'd have going on in his shop.  He always had talk radio playing in the shop, or a book on tape.  Always.  I can still see him there.