I'm Just Numb, This Isn't Happening., Going the wrong way on the grief cycle. Options

[Jaedon]

I felt like, when I made the decision to let Stella go.. my beautiful daughter, best friend, sole mate of a beagle, I had made my peace. It was the right thing to do for her, I OWED her that. She was only seven, and after fighting leptospirosis and kidney failure for two years, she had just given up. I cried for two weeks before I made the decision. I went through denial, then I was angry, then I could do nothing but cry, but then this sort of calm came over me, because I kept repeating the mantra, "It's not about me anymore, it's about her." And doing that, I could set myself aside and see how horrible she felt, how she herself was ready, and I knew what I had to do for her. But the procedure was horrible. It was horrible and I can't get the images out of my head. Afterward I felt dead, just as gone as she was. As if with her departure she took my soul. And since then I feel like a zombie, except for the times when I feel sick. I feel like I can't accept that she's gone. No matter what, I feel like she's just at the hospital again for treatment, and I'll see her in a few days. I can't fight through this fog, and I'm not sure I want to. For a long time, she was all I had-- my only friend, sometimes the only family speaking to me... she was everything. And now my instinct is that I have nothing. I'm hollow. I don't even know what "I" is anymore. I can't imagine life without her. Anyway, this is my first post, pretty much ever, online. I don't usually think people should be bothered with my worries, having enough of their own. But... I just don't know what to do. Any feedback would help me feel like I'm not so alone. This has been very stream-of-consciousness, so I'm sorry if it doesn't make the most sense.

[Jaedon]

I got her ashes back last night. I couldn't even bear to take the urn out of the box, couldn't even touch the box when my boyfriend brought it home. I just stared at it, sitting on our dining room table. I still don't know what to think about it. Or how to think about it. I felt like I was getting a little better before, but then when I saw the small box with what I knew was Stella inside.... I can't describe it. I'm glad I chose not to bury her. We don't know how long we'll be here, and I know I couldn't stand to leave her... but it's still hard. I guess it would have been, regardless of my choice. This weekend I'm going to be collecting her things and creating a place for them in our office closet. It used to comfort me to see her things everywhere as though she'd be home any day, but now that I know it's an impossibility, seeing them just rips open a fresh wound in my heart. I could never get rid of any of it, but I can no longer be surrounded by it, either.