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We're friends, not doctors, financial or legal professionals, and we're not "grief experts." But we are here, and we've been "there."

I keep almost wanting to reach out. I asked Ry a few weeks ago if Th and I could come over for ice cream, sangrias, and water balloons. It was overridden. So I don't want to say anything else to him, or ask him for anything, or just say, "come spend time with me, please." He's one of the very few people that I don't have to be "on" around, and he'll poke at walls until they come down. I'd like to be around him, but...

It's hard for me to ask for help. I don't like doing it, and it's hard for me to do. I keep hearing Me insulting me in my head. I can recognize that I take things more personally than I should, but I can't stop it.

I meant to go through a lot of the store room this week. I did that on Monday, but then the rest of the week, I worked on the inside. I did, however, make phenomenal progress on the living/dining room area. It's much closer to what it WILL be. I removed the monstrosity of an entertainment unit and replaced it with a much cleaner looking TV stand. It's a bit lower than I like, so one of the kids will be over after I pick up a wall mount to mount the TV to the wall above it. But all the components are hooked up, and I now KNOW how they're hooked up. The empty fish tanks are out of the room, the second book shelf for my houses is up. The china hutch is moved to where the 30 gallon was, the buffet is now the bar across from where it was, which gives me an actual bar and opens the kitchen breakfast nook for use, which is what I'll use as an actual table when company is over. And the new wine fridge is here, stocked, and fits just perfectly in between the 55 gallon and the bar. My low shelves have been moved to the living room to house media, my coffee table is now in the living room... It's much more me. The whole thing looks much more open.

I wanted to tell someone to come over. To say come eat dinner and hang out with me... But I'm currently too broken, too afraid of being told no to ask. I don't like that. I get lonely, but I don't want to be told no. And the one person I know who won't tell me no, I always hate to bother. A is so busy. And I know he'd smack me if he thought I wanted company and didn't ask. Like I say, being stupid, I guess. *Shrugs* I dislike having to ask for help.

I think some of it is honestly the aftermath of abuse from Me that's coming to the forefront. It was never really dealt with, and now with everything else, it's found a way to rear its ugly head. I'm not sure what to do about that.

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