Two years passed, and now nearly another 2 months more since then.
It could be two years, twenty years, two hundred years…but sometimes it’s two seconds.
When I let myself remember it all, it’s like I’m actually there, and I’ve just slipped back into my head back then, and no time has passed at all.
It’s all just as vivid as ever it was…and I can play it all over and over…
All my memories of us are like that. Sharp technicolour. They don’t fade, I just try not to visit.
The days are passing. Time is filled. But I’m not getting anywhere. I’m just treading water. But maybe that’s enough?
I now have two jobs. Because it’s good for me to get out, and to keep busy, and to be distracted. To be paid. To meet people, to chat, to play nice and friendly for a while, to have something else to be good at, to remind me that whatever I do, I will always do it to the best of my ability, and I need to remember that, and be proud of that. I’m also enjoying the work, which is a good thing, though the novelty will wear off, work politics and dynamics will eventually drive me up the wall, and I’ll have to leave at some point before I lose the ability to hold my tongue. It’s far from rocket science, so even though I need the extra money, there are other such jobs all over the place. The timer is ticking…lay bets on how long it lasts folks!
Of course all this constant working is also a distraction tactic. I know that. And there’s always the risk of doing too many things and none of them well. Plus, you know, work hard, play hard, right? I’m pretty sure I have a self-destruct thing going on because, hey, who’s going to tell me off? Or tell me to stop? I have no-one to answer to, other than myself, and I don’t ask myself questions I don’t want to answer, because I already know the answers am choosing to ignore them. I no longer have my boulder to lean on, and so I get to flail around wildly and aimlessly. No compass, no compassion, no roots, no direction.
Maybe a bit of me is hoping someone will call me out, and look after me for a while. Someone to care, to make it all a little less hard, take some of the weight off my shoulders, and let me just let go of all the responsibility, pressure, grief…for a while. Somebody I can lean on. But they won’t, and there isn’t anyone, and I know my sensible side will get a grip at some point, I’ll HTFU, and get back on with it. To be fair, I probably wouldn’t lean anyway, I don’t trust anyone enough to do so…and I’m not letting anyone get that close again any time soon. If ever.
Besides, I’m a grown-up, I’m single, and I can do whatever the f*ck I want, and f*ck up however I want. I neither want nor need anyone else’s approval. Remember, those that matter don’t mind, and those that mind don’t matter. Judge not lest ye be judged yourself, and you have no idea what it’s like in my shoes, nor do you want to have.
Two sides to every argument, and a truth in the middle. Maybe.
I still have two amazing kids.
Neither of whom currently live here.
Eldest is still living where he now does, in a new job, discovering that not working in hospitality means you can actually have a life.
Youngest is off being incredibly intelligent, doing a Masters in something involving stem cells and genetic research. Told you she was clever!
I am mad proud of both them.
They are the two best things in my life.
Though the house is too quiet without them, and my head is too loud.
No-one talks about him. Not to me anyway. If I talk about him, people start shifting in their seats and getting uneasy. I get it. But it’s like the only place he exists, and existed, is in my head. And I want to remember him, out loud and proud. Even if I do cry. Aren’t you all used to me crying in public yet?
It’s somewhat better than it was. Except for when it isn’t. And then it’s just as bad.
Being intelligent and self-aware sucks.