Yes I know, there’s no such thing as a perpetual motion machine.
Every day I mean to go to bed early.
Because every day waking up is a struggle.
And the day that follows it seems to be hell.
So by the time I get to now, I’ve drunk enough, got myself into a settled place where I’m watching Netflix or whatever, actually I can’t face going to bed. So I stay up, and thus, the wheel turns, the cycle repeats, and in a few hours…? Same sh*t, different day.
And there we go again, over and over and over again; perpetual hell, if not perpetual motion.
For starters, even though I know that asleep is better than awake, and my dreams are better than my life, I also know that inevitably I will have to wake up to reality at some point tomorrow, and I won’t want to, and I’ll have to remember what my life actually is every time I surface, and it never hurts any less. If I’m lucky, I’ll dream of him. But then if I’m lucky that way, then waking up will be even worse. There is no win here. So why go to sleep, when I know I can’t stay there, and I don’t want to wake up?
I thought that after the vultures had descended and picked over his bones, and that that day wasn’t hanging over me, I would feel better. I don’t. I really really don’t. And ok, they’re not vultures, they’re family who are totally entitled to have his things, but since they haven’t seen fit to reply to my request for the one thing that shouldn’t have gone to them to be returned to me, that meant a lot to me, (surprise, surprise), I’m not feeling all that charitable right now. Why should I continuously do the right thing, when others don’t?
And as an aside, my house was full of his stuff. But stuff doesn’t make any noise. So why does it feel not just empty, but somehow so much f*cking quieter?
The last few days have been pretty hellish. I’m a complete wreck, tbh. Like I said, I thought having it over and done with would help me feel better. It hasn’t. I guess it’s aftermath, aftershock…I haven’t recovered from it yet. I’m bouncing along the bottom. Minus the bounce.
That’s the thing with grief. We’ve all lost people, grandparents etc, In the natural order of things. I’ve lost best friends. This? All new. I have no map. No experience to fall back on. No knowing that I’ll get through it and be ok. You think you know how it’s going to go. You don’t.
I want to be ‘better’. I want to be happy again, I want to ‘move on’, blah blah. I’m not wallowing in it, lingering, whatever you might think, on purpose. But grief like this isn’t what you want it to be. It is uncharted territory. Part of it is learning that you don’t get over it. You don’t get to go back to the person you were. And it would kind of be an insult to the person who meant so much to you if you did. You are changed. You are changing. Like the primordial ooze inside a chrysalis. You have no idea who you’re going to be at the end of the process. And you don’t get to choose how the ride goes. You’re just along for it. Fighting against it just makes it worse. Which is so not me. I’m a control freak.
I know I need to learn not to expect so much of myself. To be kinder to myself. To let myself be how I need to be whenever I need to be whatever that is. I keep setting myself up for failure, because I have no clue what I’m doing, but keeping thinking that I should be doing better, and then I’m not doing it right, and that I’m failing at this, just like everything else. Hopefully over the next few days I will settle down a bit. Just in time for Tash to go back to Uni, and leave me home alone. Even though I’d kinda like her to stay being here, I really hope Covid-19 doesn’t stop her leaving. She should be out there living her uni life. Not stuck here with her wreck of a mother. So fingers crossed for her…
You wouldn’t have thought Frozen 2 would trigger a flashback, would you? And I wish it hadn’t. And Tash hadn’t seen it, and felt a little bad, because she hadn’t expected it to make me cry. It’s just Disney, right? But it’s ok. Everything makes me cry at the moment, and it is what it is. Can’t blame the film, or her, or whatever. I’m just having a really bad patch. I miss him, I’m scared to be home alone soon, and I wish this wasn’t my life. I would never treat anyone, or talk about anyone, the way that people have behaved towards me, and knowing that it is forever out there makes it worse. But that also is what it is, and I will never be able to change that. And all of it, everything, really, really, hurts.
Bedtime right? Well, soon anyway…