My husband keeps telling me to take Ativan. I, myself, have decided to take one most nights to help me sleep. I think that all of the hell in my life is causing some mood elevation. Nothing positive, though. More frustrated angry elevation. I know I've been getting louder and less patient, talking over people -- small early signs that are common for me.

Right now Hubby is taking a nap. I know he needs it, yet I really wish we were doing more in terms of unpacking. My bedroom stuff (clothes, etc.) is mostly unpacked. What isn't is waiting for me in the storage. Hubby's stuff, on the other hand, is still piled in the bedroom as clutter. I've offered to help him unpack, but of course he refuses.

My sister arranged that we'll have a private funeral ceremony for our dad, when I am able to go to the US. It's possible since he was cremated. Obviously this is not the norm to wait so long. People around town keep inquiring. We also plan to limit who comes. When my father was still living on his own, before the assisted living, he was in an extended manic episode, drinking and partying heavily. Some people in town exploited him, financially. It made it all the easier for them since Dad was manic and telling people he "was rich" and being excessively generous, in lust with a few women along the way. My siblings and I do not wish those particular people to attend any funeral service for our father. Their attendance would be, let's say, fury provoking. Nevertheless, townies are all asking about the service. One townie approached my sister, who is the polar opposite of assertive, asking to come. My sister kinda sort of said yes, but that the date hasn't been set. She told me today and I warned her that such an exception easily balloons into other unexpected attendees. I told her it should be avoided. Frankly, if that particular guy approached me to my face, I probably wouldn't even recognize who he was. He wasn't even a significant friend of my dad's. You let in one and a crowd follows, and of course they all want to go to a reception afterwards to eat. Yea, my father was popular around town (for some unfortunate reasons), but the funeral is for the closest family. Not a bunch of leeches, some of which I'd want to ask to leave, to put it gently. [This shows that my mood elevation is still pretty mild.]

Also, my poor brother is currently incapable of leaving a hospital. Or even getting out of a bed to go to a bathroom. Sadly, it may even be the case that my father is not the only person grieved in the near future.