I Stopped To See A Weeping Willow, Crying On His Pillow

So I've survived another week...sort of. I have a lot of distractions, which is nice sometimes, but other times I would really like time to pout. To crawl into bed and pull my nice fuzzy blanket all the way up to my face and just be. I try to think at night, because you need to think, it's healthy you know? But my thoughts branch out like a huge tree, and as exhaustion takes over all those thoughts spiral down like the branches of a weeping willow until I am jolted awake and forget what I was thinking about in the first place. Is it healthy that I cannot finish a full thought? I believe some are on medication for similar problems. Anyhow...back to what I was saying; I've compared this grief to an addiction of some sort, or should I say an addict trying to break an addiction. I find myself so many times a day, at times before when I would have called my mom, having to change my course, or distract myself. They say if you're a smoker, and you are trying to quit, to not do things or go places that you associate with smoking, and that is how it is for me right now. Hmm, could it be that I was addicted to my Mom? Doubtful. I think that even though many times I took on the parent role and she the child, that in my head I knew she was still my mom. When you have parents you know you always have someone to fall back on, someone to catch you when you fall. It's a scary feeling to have lost all that. It's incomprehensible to think that in the past 5 years my family tree, my weeping willow, has gone from flowy and flourishing to practically a stump.