Pea brain

If you’re paying attention, you know I should be in bed right now. And should probably have been for some time. But hey, it’s been one of those days. It started off ok. I got up normally, even a little earlier than usual. And I had plans for working and spin bike and whatever, but mid-afternoon I realised I wasn’t feeling great. Sore throat. Endo pain. Chronic fatigue. Just sort of woozy and off and not with life… So I took myself back to my bed and hung out there for the rest of the day. The kids checked in from time to time. They went shopping for food stuff. And then Tash cooked enchiladas, and I made it downstairs, and we were looking at the usual eat food, watch TV/film, drink wine, go to bed, gradual slide down to the inevitable.

However sometime after food, Max, the not-so kitten, decided knocking over a very large piece of wood destined to be a mantlepiece on top of himself would be a good idea. He’s grown rapidly. His brain hasn’t. It is in fact inversely proportional to his size. However, since following his latest bout of chaos he was properly limping, and subdued, and not himself…we ended up at the vets at stupid expensive out of hours o’clock. As it happens he’s probably ok, and the fact that I took out pet insurance was probably one of my wiser decisions of late. Which is good. Better safe than sorry. And I really can’t cope with lose anyone or anything else now, it’s all been too much already. So all that done, it turns out he’s probably ok, which was a massive relief, and then we were home again. I can’t just go to bed when I get in late, I have to settle… So I did. I watched some Criminal Minds, I had a night cap and I wound down.

So here I am now. Settled. Even with all that, it’s been a sort of ok day, as my days go. I gave myself permission to have a sick day. I read a good book. I dealt with the cat chaos, and now I’m back in bed, settling back in to my comfort zone. It’s a weird thing – because when, however late it is, you’re feeling just about ok, you don’t really want to go to bed again, because that will mean waking up to another day, and you only known how today is, you don’t know how tomorrow is going to be. And it’s easier to cope with now, the known, than tomorrow the unknown. I know I’m going to wake up tomorrow, later than I want to, wishing I’d drunk a little less white wine…and who knows what kind of shit is going to hit the fan tomorrow?

But that’s tomorrow. This is today and here and now, whatever the actual o’clock is. In the meantime the recovering pea brained Max is being looked after by youngest, and I’m in bed, heading for sleep, with one of the other cats, Cassie, for company. It’s not Matt, it’s not a hug, but it’s better than no company at all for sure. Tomorrow can wait a little longer…


Something is going on out there in the fields south of us. There’s been a police car hurtling around, and now a helicopter is on its 5th pass. No idea why, or what they’re looking for, but all I can think of is the time the helicopter came here, and they didn’t save the day, couldn’t save the day, even though they did their best.

It’s been a bad day all ’round. The mob went off to see the Ex for the day, and I said goodbye, and then I rolled over and went back to sleep and fought as hard as I could to stay asleep for as long as I could, even though my dreams were weird and frightening, because I didn’t want to be awake, where my life feels like both those things and more. Finally I had to wake up and stay awake, and the first thing I did was cry. In fact I woke up crying, like a newborn baby ripped from the warm and comfortable into cold harsh reality. Partially because I could, I guess, because there was no-one there to hear me, and I guess also partially because I was going to be on my own all day with no plans, no sunshine, no anything, so I was lonely from the get go and things weren’t going to get better. There was no reason for me to be awake, no reason for me to be here, no meaning to my day or even my existence. I didn’t want to be awake and I didn’t want to be here. I still don’t, but I still am.

I did the usual stuff. I even hit the spin bike for a bit, and tried to do some invoicing and stuff at the same time, which I often do, until my computer and one of my email accounts fell out, and it all went pear shaped…and I just don’t bounce back any more. I have no margin for error. I have no wiggle room. If something goes wrong, that’s it. I can’t cope. I melt down. Everything becomes too much instantly and then I’m just a crying mess metaphorically bleeding out all over the floor. Although less metaphorically than usual, since it’s that time of the month, so now I have to deal with hormones, and cramps and, this evening, stabbing endo pain too. None of which I can cope with now, not on top of everything else. I managed to fix it all eventually, and have a shower, and sort of patch myself back together again, but that was it for trying to do anything constructive today. Wipeout.

Eventually the mob came home. They did their thing, I did mine. We watched a film and some TV. And now it’s bedtime and I get to do the whole thing all over again tomorrow. Maybe I’ll actually get the accounting and invoicing stuff done this time. Maybe I won’t. The painkillers are cutting in, which is something at least. Life just feels pointless. If I hadn’t been here today, nothing would have been any different. I neither added nor subtracted anything to anyone or anything. I just existed. The world kept turning, and would have done regardless.

And that helicopter is still going backwards and forwards, trying to find something or other, and now I get to have flashbacks before bedtime. Some things you just can’t un-see. They’re permanently etched on your retina; memories you wish you could forget but can’t. There are things you should never have to do, and we had to. And there it goes flying past again… I think sweet dreams are unlikely, don’t you?

Some days are just a living hell. Today was one of those days. Maybe tomorrow will be different. Or not. Guess which one my money is on?


It’s oh so quiet…

It’s very quiet here.
In my room. In my house. Even inside my head.

For the last few days we’ve been three again, and rather than company being gregarious and chatty and sociable…I feel like a third wheel, as they chat away, and laugh, and get on with doing whatever they’re doing whenever.

Meanwhile, I’m under the bell jar, struggling to breathe. A stranger in my own home, in my own family, because this isn’t who I was in the days when we were just us before. I am altered.

I have nothing to say for myself that they haven’t heard before. They’re busy being happy, and normal, which is lovely, and I don’t want to be the one permanently p*ssing on their parade. I’d love to be those things, but that world, their world, even the world, feels alien to me. It’s not my world. And no-one wants to be in my world, who would? So I just don’t talk much. Inside my head has become my padded cell.

I’m trying to reinstate routine into my life; one of the bits of homework I have from my counsellor. I get to bed a little earlier. I get up earlier. I have a coffee, and then work for a couple of hours. Then I can go sit on the swing chair and aimlessly kill time, and keep my brain distracted, and any errant thoughts silenced. It’s only day two, so it’s a little early to say whether or not it’s working, and whether or not it helps. I’ve not really started on the rest of the homework yet. Baby steps, as someone else said. Two days of this, only a few days of us all being at home; we have yet to establish the rest of whatever routine becomes, put the spin bike back into it, walk more, whatever.

As ever, even with them here, I miss him. But it’s like I’m missing him in a slightly different way at the moment. I’m missing him. Not his presence, not us, not what we did, where we went, not his company. I’m missing who he was. His essence. The person inside him that I loved through thick and thin, that I knew so well. Sometimes I’ll remember things and my face will smile despite itself, and that feeling of loving him swells and overflows, and then has nowhere to go, and the tracks of my tears etch ever deeper grooves down my face. In the odd unguarded moment I’ve even found myself almost about to text him and tell him I’m thinking of him and how much I love him, and can’t wait to see him, just like I once would have done. And then reality bites…

It’s like you get a little less numb each day time passes and a little bit more of what you’ve lost gets through to you, but you hadn’t realised you were still numb, so each bit bites unexpectedly, and wow yes, it can still get harder. And you wonder when, if ever, it ends, or how much further down you have to go before you get to look back, and leave him in the underworld, and walk forward into the future. Or is this just how it is now?

The bitter spider sits
And sits in the center of her loveless spokes.

Super moon

Tonight is the Super Flower Moon. And from where I’m lying, with the curtains partially opened, I can see it. And yes, it is big, and bright, and beautiful, and its light is streaming into our room…and once again I am not sharing it with him.

I am so low, so flat, and so lonely, at the moment. I just can’t pull my socks up, pick myself up from the bottom. Every day is the same day over and over again. Nothing changes. Nothing improves. My blood tests were clear, which you’d think was a good thing, but all it means is that I still have all the symptoms, and the pain, and no answers, thus no treatment. A referral, advice that might be forthcoming, an appointment that might happen if the world ever gets back to whatever normal was, but no answers. No help. Just more pain, on top of the usual pain (which is worse because my period finally arrived), on top of the pain of grief that is still ripping me apart however hard I try to be distracted, busy, focussed elsewhere… None of it works, and nothing is helping.

I’m just so damn f*cking sad all the time. I’m trying to avoid triggers, only to discover you can’t. They lurk, and then jump out and get you when you’re least expecting them – a random memory, phrase, something you see, hear…and I’m gone again, like I’ve regressed back to the early days, and the tears are falling, and the lump in my throat is back, and it just hurts all over, and over, and over again.

I’ve not just lost him, I’ve lost so much more than that. I’ve lost the me I was then, and am now someone I don’t even recognise, or like, and I’ve no idea who I’m going to end up being.

I can’t listen to music any more, when it’s been a massive part of my life for longer than I can remember.

I can’t drink fizz just for no particular reason at all, like just because it’s Wednesday and we fancied walking up the hill and drinking fizz, and even when there’s a genuine reason for fizz, it just feels all wrong somehow, to be drinking it without him.

I haven’t been able to go to a beach, any beach, since he died. And now I can’t even if I wanted to, and I don’t know if it would help or just make me feel worse anyway. We were never happier than when we were at a beach together, and I almost feel like I’d be betraying him by going there without him.

I can’t, and don’t want to, ride a bike without him, even though I’ve made it as far as the spin bike, I can’t imagine getting out on the road on my own, without him, without his support, without knowing that he’s there to get me home if it all gets too much.

I had music before him, and I had beaches before him, and I cycled long before him, but I don’t seem to be able to get those things back now that he has gone, having spent those years when all those things were done with him; always together, never apart. That was us. Even when we weren’t physically together, we were always in touch, always talking, texting. Always together, never apart. And now it’s never together and always apart. From one extreme to a very painful other. Together, alone. (take a listen, the lyrics pretty much cover it).

Time does not heal. Time just makes the distance between where you are now and where you were then greater. It takes you further away from your person when all you want to be is closer. Sometimes it makes the ache, and the yearning, even stronger. As time passes, I guess/hope I just get better at carrying those feelings, the loss, the insecurities, the void, with and within me. It’s pretty clear I’m not there yet…

And I know there are probably those thinking I should be moving on, I should be “over it” by now. I’ve already lost one friend, many months ago, who basically said he couldn’t read this anymore, that I was wallowing too much, and so he’d be taking his leave. So long and thanks for all the fish. Fine. Off you go then. Because that’s b*ll*cks.

There is no timetable. Everyone walks this path their own way, and if you’ve never had to walk it, well lucky you. Don’t you think I’d like to be feeling better, and happier, and positive? That was who I used to be. This is not the person I was used to being. But it’s just not who I am now. And I can no more make me turn from this into that, than you can hold back the tide. I will end up, once the waves have receded, washed up on my own internal beach, and I will never be the person I was. When something like this happens to you, your story becomes split. There is the life you had before it happened, and then there is the life that comes after it. And to have cared and been cared for, loved deeply and been loved deeply in return, and then to have lost that? How can you ever be the same again?

I am trying to learn to be kinder to myself. To not expect so much of myself. To not let other people’s ideas of how grieving is, or how it should be done, or when it should be over and done with, influence me. To take each day as it comes and to do what I can, when I can, to do what feels right for me. And if all I can do is sit and cry, then that should be ok too. Right now I really can’t imagine a time when I will ever be happy again. All I can do is hope that maybe that time will come, whenever that may be, and ride out the waves the best I can in the meantime. I just hope they don’t completely swamp me before then. Because I’m so tired of it all. I feel old, ugly, worn down, eroded; not waving but drowning. I cannot picture my future.

It is what it is. One day at a time.

There’s a worm at the bottom of my garden…

It’s taken me a few days to recover from the engagement anniversary, and it’s been a bumpy ride. I can find myself in tears out of nowhere, and be fine for a while in likewise unpredictable fashion. I do not feel at all stable and it’s been even harder cope with myself without Austin’s company.

For those that sent him positive wishes…sadly he didn’t get the paramedic job/course thing he went for, which really upset me, and probably him too, because I don’t get it. What are they looking for that he isn’t? OK I know, I’m biased, but he’s sound, intelligent, and sensible, old before his time, responsible, willing to learn…how is that not getting across? And it’s the things you can’t fix for your kids that hurt the most. I can give him a hug, I can sympathise, but I can’t make them employ him. It’s frustrating, and makes me feel even more helpless than I usually do which, at the moment, is saying something.

As ever, I’ve done what I do to cope with my days, which is to keep busy. Be that iPad games, or reading, or podcasts…or even more gardening. I even got to play with a (borrowed) petrol powered hedge trimmer. It took me a while to figure out how to make it work, even with previous outboard motor experience, but the internet served up the user manual, et voilà, it worked, and I got to hack even more things. Tbh honest I was quite proud of that. And however depressed I am, I still love playing with power tools 😉

Note to anyone – those things are heavy, especially when you’re waving them around all over the place in probably less than safe fashion. Today I have very sore spaghetti arms…

Which were probably exacerbated by me spending several hours standing in the rhyne behind the house today, hacking back what’s left down there into small enough pieces for it to be washed away by the water. It was suitably time consuming, and I had my bluetooth headphones with podcasts for company. I was wearing shorts, but I wore wellies and a long sleeved top and good gardening gloves and yet I still look like I’ve taken up self-harm which, in a bizarre way I possibly have. It’s nearly done though. I need the water to wash away some more of the underlying dirt, then I have about another foot or so of left over bramble roots to hack back to get back to the actual bank. So close…

The bags of garden waste from the upstairs bit of the garden are being collected for official disposal on Wednesday and when the last rhyne hacking is done, then the garden will be done – stripped back to the bare bones. What happens then, I have no idea. I expect, like today, when I’ve reached a sensible finishing point, I will sit on my swing seat, drink a cold beer, and then burst into tears because Matt’s not here for me to show my work to, to be proud of me for doing it even though every bit of my body hurts. Nobody else gives a crap, though Tash and Austin try, and I ping my brother pictures from time to time as a form of inane unsentimental conversation that saves either of us from having to get too emotional about anything, whilst letting each other know we’re both still here for each other. Or at least I hope that’s how it works.

Two days of this has proved that the joints in my hands and wrists and ankles really are screwed…which has me more than a little worried if I’m honest which, here, I tend to be. I probably shouldn’t have carried on doing what I’ve been doing, but what else was I going to do? Everything that needs doing in and around this house involves manual labour. It may seem rather an obvious statement, but it’s hard to do such things without using your hands. By this point this evening, even typing hurts. Everything hurts. But hey, at least I’m tired, and I’ll sleep well. It’ll be the first half an hour tomorrow morning that will really show how much damage I’ve done; when I’ll be too scared to roll over, or try and sit up, or to push myself up, because of how much I can tell it’s going to hurt…

But enough of my woes. Let’s try for something a little more cheerful…


Tiberius, the temporarily with us snake, was reunited with his owner yesterday (long story of woe…blah blah…happy owner). And because I was so gutted about it all, it having been the only thing to cheer me up in ages, a few rules were bent a little for me, and I am very lucky to have been blessed with a replacement; one that is also a rescue, but that will not be going anywhere. Livia, the juvenile pastel boa constrictor, came to live with us in her forever home on Saturday, and we love her to bits already. She’s beautiful and placid and going to grow quite some! I’ve levelled up my snake game 😉 I didn’t have time to handle her this evening as I had some actual paying work to do, but I’m going to make up for it tomorrow, when I think a break from gardening may be called for! Oh, and I rescued a caterpillar today too.

I know it’s daft, but I cried when Livia came home, and I cried when I rescued the caterpillar. It’s not like I need an audience for my life. It’s just that every time I do something, I want to do what I always did, which was to share it with him. We shared everything, all the time. And so just for an instant my brain thinks, right time to call/text Matt…he’d love this. And then I remember I can’t, and never can again. Unsurprisingly, that hurts too.

Star light, star bright.

The Lyrids are out tonight. And just for once I remembered at the right time, and the skies were fairly clear, and so I sat on my window sill, legs hanging in the wind, looking south over the fields, watching the skies, wishing and hoping…

And I was lucky. I properly saw two separate shooting stars. I got Austin to join me, and he thinks he saw one too, which is perfect considering that it is now officially his birthday, it being tomorrow not today, if you see what I mean. I am gutted I can’t give him the kind of day he should have, that he warrants, that he deserves. But, as he put it, the lockdown pissed all over my birthday too, so it’s not like it’s just picking on him. And we have small plans, and we will make the most of it, and we’ll be together. There will be fizz, and cake, and a walk, and take out, and a film, and it’ll be what it’ll be. Present buying will have to wait a little longer…things are due but not here yet…but he’s ok with that.

So with all the lights turned out, there we sat together, and we looked up at the night sky. We listened to the wind blowing the trees around, and talked idly about the universe, and perspective, and the randomness of everything.

We talked about what we’d wish for, on a shooting star, if we could, with the proviso that it has to be within the realms of possibility, because we all know the things we’d wish for otherwise. He’d just like for his 23rd year to be better than his 22nd which, considering all the sh*t that’s happened, probably isn’t a big ask. However let’s not forget that in that time he graduated well, and is now on the second of two jobs, and on the way to finding the one he actually wants, so it hasn’t been all bad… 😉

And what would I wish for? Well, like I said, sticking within the realms of possibility, I think I’d wish to find love again one day. To not be alone for the rest of my life; to end the hideous loneliness. For this not to be it. For things to get better. I’m hoping that’s not too big an ask too, but as with all these things, only time will tell…  I know I can never replace him. Nothing will ever be what we had. But to have something with someone else would be nice. When I’m ready, whenever that should be.

Star light, star bright,
First star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have this wish I wish tonight.

It’s been another not great day. A lonely empty one, but at least the sun was shining. I am missing my friends, and the simple comfort of a hug from another person so much. I am really struggling, and there’s only so much gardening I can do…though I managed to find a lot more to do somehow today! I also tried to work, but my head was in the wrong space, barely above water, so that didn’t really work. I need hugs so much right now…

Now it’s time to sleep. Hopefully better than I did last night. Restless broken sleep, weird dreams, and a way earlier rising than usual. But that spell sat there, with my boy, looking at the dark world outside was kinda soothing, so maybe that will help.

Matt was my star, and he still is. He shines in my memories, his star is inked into my skin, and hopefully somewhere up there, he’s shining somewhere else, and watching over us. He’d get that. A bigger cosmic cosmos. That hope that there’s more…because it’s the only thought that makes any of this a little more bearable. I have no faith, no religion to take comfort in. But maybe, just maybe, there’s something more out there…and thinking of him as a star watching over us isn’t going to do any harm, so for now, I’ll go with that. Another day done, and another day closer to finding out if that’s true…

I have to admit it’s not getting better

It’s not getting better. Not even with the sunshine. Not even with Austin at home.
I know the people talk of depression as the black dog.
This is not a black dog. Or cat. Or grey cloud.

I feel like I’m trapped in a hopeless dark place.
It’s the kind of feeling I think potholing would give me.
Stuck in a tight space with the walls and weight of the earth pressing in around me.
And panicky and scared that I’ll never get out.
That this is it.
This is how it’s going to be forever.
That this is my life until my life is over.

My thoughts have been ending up in some very dark places…

Oh, and the endo is off on one again too; now there’s a surprise. It always did have the most immaculate timing and, due to its hormonal nature, probably excarbates how I’m feeling. And it’s harder to cope when I’m in pain. It’s all very circular that way. Cycles, circles, circadian rhythms, ebbs, flows…

And with so much having happened, and still happening, as my oldest friend and I discussed today as she feels much the same albeit for different reasons (and it was so good to talk to her btw), I feel like I’m just waiting for the thing that finally breaks me. The one next thing that breaks the camel’s already weak back, and pushes me over the edge, to a place I won’t make it back from.

The way the world has been going over the last 8 months, I’m pretty sure it’ll come. That may sound fatalistic, but can you blame me? Really? I have plenty of reasons to feel that way. What can go wrong will, and has, gone wrong. I don’t know what it’ll be next. I don’t know what form it will take. I worry every time Austin goes to work. I worry about Tash being miles away and on her own and not with us. I worry about my folks. Heck, I worry about everything. And when whatever it is happens…?

A year ago, we were having a night away, in the sports car, in the sunshine, at The Sheppey, staying in our favourite room, just as a treat to ourselves. . It was amazing and private and happy and wonderful and everything we were at our best. And now? Another day of fears and tears. I don’t even recognise the me in that photo – that me is long, long, long gone. As is he. It’s like that me died with him. We’re both dead.

I was stupid enough to try and listen to music earlier…not a good move. And the random nature of what it churned out was beyond unhelpful. But since I did…in case, you need reminding, I need you, and I miss you, and I really would walk a thousand miles if I could just see you tonight.

And just so as you know, and you should have known, because I told you how much I loved you so many times; but I was amazed by you. You took my breath away. Eight months since you left, and I don’t love you any less. I think maybe I love you even more, because that love now has nowhere to go now. It’s all the things that aren’t. It’s the words I can’t say to you, the feelings I can’t share, the hugs I can’t hide in. It’s in all the tears that flow, the endless painful noisy crying that comes forth when I’m on my own. It’s in everything that isn’t and will never be.

What I wouldn’t give to have that car back on the road, with you behind the wheel, and us heading off again together, even if your driving did scare me witless half the time….

Love you forever, my eternally beautiful boy.


The bad days seem to be continuing…

This morning Susie Dent (aka That woman in Dictionary Corner) tweeted:

Should you need it, ‘matutolypea’ (ma-toot-oh-leh-pee-a) is a state of extreme funk/irritability after waking up. A combination of Latin and Greek meaning ‘morning sorrow’.”
Which pretty much covered it for me this morning, if you throw in a side order of weepy and emotional.

Life has had a few too many triggers in it over the last few days. There are some big dates coming up, and various other trouble is looming. My mood has bouncing along rock bottom for a while now and I’m pretty sure there is only more trouble ahead…

So last night’s dreams were weird and sadly devoid of Matt. And today Austin was working, so when I woke up suddenly, for some reason, feeling shit, I was in an empty house, with no-one to talk to. Even with the decent weather, and my swing seat to sit in, Pootle’s little grey cloud really hasn’t gone anywhere all day. It’s been a seriously low day.

I tried. I did some chores. I did some tidying of the conservatory. I sat on the spin bike. I did some more gardening, though there’s not a lot left I can easily do now. I listened to podcasts. I read. I played stupid iPad games. But mostly what I did was cry on and off, mostly on, all day. And I do mean ALL day. The only upside to this is that I am now tired down to the bone, and so drained and soul weary, that sleeping shouldn’t be a problem; in fact it’ll be even more of a blessing than usual. I just want today to go away.

Which is laughable. Because tomorrow is liable to be just as shit. I will however have Austin for company, and we can go for a walk, and I can put on a brave face, and we can do some of the things that need doing around here that I can’t do on my own. Oh, and I have some actual work that I need to do too, though finding motivation to do so in the current world is rather difficult. But it’s something to do, and it will pass some time. Nonetheless it’ll still just be another day without him, and I’m afraid I’m not coping at all well with that at the moment.

I’m just missing him so much. I’m seeing him everywhere, as my inner memory reel keeps showing me new scenes. It’s like my brain is actually trying to sabotage me FFS. And I am SO f*cking lonely. And all these things I’m doing? All it means is that I’ll be on my own in a neater tidier garden/house. It doesn’t change anything. Nobody cares. It’s pointless.

It’s not like if I make it all lovely and clean and presentable he’s suddenly going to come back and share it with me, is it? It’s still going to be just me, stuck inside these four walls and my head, with no-one to share my tidy space or my messy thoughts with. And yes I know Austin is currently here, but that’s very much an until he can get away thing. I just feel like my life is over, and thanks to the lockdown, I can’t get out there and try and convince myself it isn’t.

I’ve probably said it before, and I’m pretty certain I’ll say it again, but this is not how my life was supposed to be. If this is how it’s going to be, then I’ll pass thanks. I’m not interested in a life without him, even though I have to keep living it. It is what it is. And it continues to be horrible.

Sometimes even sunshine isn’t enough

It’s been a bad couple of days. It’s the wrong time of the month, early, so my endo is viciously off on one and the pain is seriously hard to get on top of. With my hormones all over the place, and pain ripping through me, it’s just not a good place to be in to try and deal with how I was already feeling, let alone the latest tragedy.

Matt was the only person who understood my ouchy properly, and got it. I miss his support and empathy through the pain, not to mention his hugs. He’s the person whose shoulder I desperately, desperately want to be crying on now, now that we’ve lost Loren too. I am missing him massively all over again; it’s like the scab has been ripped off the wound and it’s all painfully raw again. I feel like I’ve been knocked back about four months; I keep crying all over the place, I can’t find the motivation to do anything, I’m just achingly sad all the time, about and for both of them, and I feel like I’m stuck in a black hole that I’m never going to get out of.

Austin is doing his usual sterling job, but in his absence, there is no-one to talk to, no-where to go, nothing to do. I can feel my mental health spiralling down the plug hole… He starts his full time job tomorrow, so I get to find out exactly how weird that feels, and how I’m going to cope. Not gonna lie, I’m scared…

The idea of just me left to my own thoughts rattling around my head all the time is not a pleasant one. Even the sunshine and being outside couldn’t lift me today. I bet I’m not the only one feeling this way out there either – this is not a good time for people living on their own, or with mental health issues, or both. I bumped into a couple of mates on my walk earlier – well, you know, at a respectable distance – and just having an actual face to face conversation was just amazing. It actually perked me up a bit, even if it didn’t last long. I just hope everyone stays locked down like they’re supposed to so that we can get this bl**dy virus under control asap, because I don’t know how much of this I can take. I’m lost and broken and scared and sad and incredibly lonely, and probably a whole heap of other not great things too. Life currently sucks.

Ain’t No Sunshine

As predicted I slept through most of today. Part late night, part mad dreams, part complete lack of desire to be awake and dealing with reality. Austin went off to stay with the Ex for the day/night sometime mid morning, so being awake would just have meant me rattling around the house home alone, and that doesn’t go well in my current mental state. Eventually I did get up though. Places to be, people to see. I did chores, housework, washing, whatever. And I even went and sat on the spin bike for an hour, for the first time in probably like 18 months. I may not have pushed it much, but I worked up a sweat, so I guess that’s good right? I’ve been meaning to do it. I did it. So I achieved something today, if you look at it like that.

But even while I was doing it, it was like, why? Why am I doing this? What is the point? The last time I did this, Matt was here; he’d just arrived home from picking up Tate for the weekend. I could practically see them both in the doorway, in that vivid flashback way that seems to come with grief. If I turned ’round they’d be there, right…? Each time that kind of thing happens, it’s like being punched in the gut. It winds you, takes your breath away. Turns out it’s quite hard to cycle while crying… My exercise routine was part of what our normal life was. And life isn’t normal now.

I know I should be worried about being unhealthy, unfit, overweight, whatever…but I’m just not. I don’t really know whether I ever want to ride my bike ever again, because it had become something that I always did with Matt, because he would always be there to make sure I got home if my health issues got too much and I couldn’t carry on. I say I want to, and I know it would be good for me, for the headspace, and hopefully for getting back to riding with friends and so forth. Sounds great in theory. But the idea of getting ready to go riding, putting kit on (supposing any of it still fits), getting the bike sorted, and actually getting on it and leaving the house…doing all those things without him? I’m not sure I can face it. I’d probably be crying too hard to even make it out of the Close, let alone out of town. Him, me, cycling, us; it’s all so intertwined I don’t know if it’s ever going to be possible to get back to a place where I’m happy to ride on my own. And let’s face it, even if I got past all of that, my health issues haven’t gone away. It’s going to hurt so much on so many levels.

In a related note, I went out for a cigarette the other day and someone wherever I was said, “you do know those things will kill you right?” And I was like, yeah, I do, and I don’t care. And I realised that I wasn’t just being flippant. I actually don’t. I don’t care if I get run over by a bus tomorrow. I may be doing my very best to cling on to life, and get the help I need to keep me here, but if someone/thing else should happen to take me out along the way well…that would be ok by me. That wouldn’t be my fault. It would probably come as a relief. Hey, by the looks of things, maybe Covid-19 will do the job. It’s certainly in the process of likely wiping out the few things that I have in my calendar that I am looking forward to. What chances of a gig in April or a show in May? I thought the shitty weather was bad enough, but no, life just keeps piling it on. Sure as f*ck ain’t no sunshine in my life these days.

Right now I’m at my folks again. Tomorrow morning we have another appointment as part of the long process of getting my Mum (agressive early on-set Alzheimer’s) sorted, so it made sense on several levels to sleep here tonight rather than at what passes for home, with Austin away. I had company, Dad had company, and there’s white wine. I’m fairly low maintenance really, even though I’m clearly also incredibly needy in lots of ways.

I can’t sleep all day tomorrow. I have to get up. So maybe I’ll try and make a start on this getting up earlier, going to bed earlier, drinking less thing. Or maybe I won’t. Ooh, the suspense…