If they hadn't been home, I'd probably be at the hospital now.
You know what? It helped a lot. I felt so much better that I began getting hungry, and then I got a hypoglycemic episode; I ended up eating the spaghetti they had left over from dinner.
I still hurt like hell, mind you, but it's been reduced to a manageable level. No idea how long it'll last, either, but after I got home I noticed that the things around me have color, which was startling. It means that--for a while, perhaps over the past couple of days--I have not been seeing in color.
How depressed are you when the world appears colorless? I always thought that was just an expression. No; it's a statement of fact. It also means I'm far beyond the "blues" and well into "clinical depression", and that's not good.
Given that, my brother's advice makes less and less sense to me--"assume a virtue you do not feel", and so on--because this isn't just me feeling sad that Mom's gone; this is clinical depression. You can't just gut it up and push past clinical f-ing depression, not unless you're Superman or Buddha or Jesus or Auntie Madoka. WTF.
Sunday evening I'll write an e-mail to my boss explaining what's going on with me. That'll mean the end of my brief career at [employer] but that can't be helped. I'm planning, Monday morning, to call the church and get the info on grief counseling, and I'm also going to call the doctor's office and schedule an appointment with him to get a referral to a shrink.
My cousin (the daugher of the aunt and uncle I visited) is a social worker, and I'm hoping she can help me with the various public assistance options, or at least get me pointed in the right direction. (Failing all that, then at the bare minimum pointing out a social worker in my area who isn't a complete f-ing retard.)
I am also entertaining the theory that I might have some sort of bipolar spectrum disorder. I have had manic phases--"manic" compared to my normal self, anyway, such as Monday the 2nd when I got off work, came home, did the laundry and the shopping and the dishes and cooked dinner...and then couldn't sleep. Wikipedia has a good write-up on it; my brother discounted this theory, saying that in the manic phase you feel on top of the world. My reading of the Wikipedia piece tells me that the euphoric feeling is not always present. (And my memory is imperfect; though I don't remember for sure, I do recall feeling pretty damn good about everything I was getting done: "That's the way! Just do this, and this, and that, and man, look at everything I've accomplished! That's how it ought to be! And it's only 8 PM!")
Anyway, for the time being I feel merely crappy, and I'm going try to get some restful sleep while it lasts. Later.