Sweet dreams are made of this

Tough times at the moment. Not an easy week, and it’s only Tuesday. I dreamt of him last night, and my thoughts have never strayed far from him which, as my ever practical daughter pointed out, is hardly surprising considering the current timing.

It was such an odd dream, in a weird place, with lots of people, and he was back and his normal cheeky life and soul self, but I could never find out where he’d been, or quite keep a grip on him, and even though I was loving seeing him and having him around, I knew he couldn’t be, that it wasn’t right. Even asleep my brain can’t, or won’t, lie to me. And then so it all kind of splintered, and chaos spread and…well, I don’t remember the details. I remember not wanting the alarm to wake me up, and hitting snooze a lot, because every time I went back to sleep, I went back into the same dream where he was, even though I knew he couldn’t be. However it was still better than not having him at all and I didn’t want to wake up to a world without him again, and then I had to…so it’s safe to say it wasn’t the best way to start the day. Tears for breakfast…

On the upside, once I’d got myself together again, I then managed to lose myself in work for a good few hours. And I made myself do some of that while on the spin bike since, thanks to my anti depressants, my weight has become a real issue, and exercise is good on many levels. So that’s two positive things. But I’ve not been far from tears all day. Too many trigger memories, random memories, things that pop up out of nowhere. Then there’s the thought of eldest getting the next job he’s going for and moving out, followed by youngest going back to uni, and it being just me here, alone. Thinking about them being away for a week on holiday with the Ex, and me being home alone. I’m just so scared of how that’s going to be, how it might feel, what’s going to happen… There’s also needing to sort some things out for my folks and not feeling like I have enough emotional energy or strength to cope with myself right now, let alone something else which is stressful and emotional and too close to home. And the clock is still ticking down to the anniversary, and I still haven’t made a plan for coping with it, and I really need to. I can’t avoid it, though I know I’m trying to. It’s going to arrive, it’s going to happen. It’s going to be a sh*t weekend, for that and other reasons. For various reasons I probably can’t do what I would usually do, so I’m just at a lost as to what to do to mark it, to help me get through it. Fail to prepare, prepare to fail…but what the hell do you do for a weekend like that, when you’re surrounded by people to whom it doesn’t mean the same as it does to you, who don’t/can’t really get it? I’m going to want, and need, to cry a lot, and not be holding it in just to spare other people.

As I said to my friend the other day, who’s struggling with his own his issues, life’s just a bit of a shit storm these days isn’t it? He agreed, I agree; yes it is.

Thanks to those of you who sent me a message or commented here last time; it’s just the little things that help. Knowing that someone out there is thinking of me reminds me that the world is a little bigger than just here. That other people get it. That we’re in this together, cos I’m thinking of you all too, even if I’m rubbish at staying in touch or reaching out. I’m either busy, so my head is elsewhere, or I’m not and my head is lost in the downward spiral, and then I don’t contact anyone anyway. Which is an explanation not an excuse.

Even though it didn’t help today, as I head for sleep now, I still hope to dream of him. Masochistic no doubt. But since life sucks – give me something. I’ll take nothing, just give me something, anything, to help keep me going.


So today was as exciting as expected, so not exciting at all. It was just another day. Woke up later than I wanted, only to realise that there wasn’t much to be awake for anyway. I spent most of the day spring cleaning my laptop which was complaining about lack of iCloud memory. And rather than spend more per month on extra storage, I decided to get rid of a whole heap of unwanted stuff.

Which would be fine, if going through all my photos didn’t mean bumping into hundreds of photo of Matt, or Matt and I. And then there’s the photos he’s not actually in, but I know that I was talking to him at the time they were taken. For nigh on four years, if we weren’t physically together, we were headphones in each others ears, living vicariously together. And then apart from the photos, there’s the file with all our texts, the file with all our WhatsApp messages which I’ve saved because I don’t want to lose them, but reading them, even just a part of them, is like hearing him talk again, like having him in my ear again, and seeing in those words all the hopes and dreams and the love we had, and just wondering where the f*ck it all went wrong, and why, why, why isn’t he still here? It’s like bringing him closer just to emphasise how far away he is now. It’s indescribably painful.

We lived our relationship long distance for years, which was not easy, but it was worth it, because we were going to have forever together. We actually said that, in black and white, in a file that now sits stored for posterity, that means nothing to anyone else but us, and now just me. We said that one day we would look back on it all, on how hard it had been, on how much we’d loved each other then, from the future where we were busy being happy together forever, still loving each other just as much and more for the rest of our lives. Oh man. I wish…god, do I wish…

The long term long distance thing probably explains why I still half want to call him, msg him, text, him, or expect him to be likewise in touch…I was used to him not being physically being here but being able to contact him. Some habits are hard to break as far as my subconscious is concerned.  And now I don’t talk to anyone. I don’t talk to the kids, I haven’t seen a friend in ages, and the only person I’ve properly talked to is my counsellor who, though lovely, is paid to listen.

I just miss him. So much. It’s almost worse as the distance between now and then grows larger. I worry I’ll forget how those hugs felt, what his voice sounded like, the way he laughed, the feel of his hand around mine, the way he looked at and into me. Every day I lose him a little bit more, and I can’t get him, or any of it, back. I miss him. I can’t let go but he’s slipping through my fingers. I miss us. I miss who I was with him, how he made me feel, how he lifted me up, how I could make him laugh, how we cherished the way we supported each other. I know I am never going to be who I was again; that person died when he did. And I have no idea who I am now, or who I’m going to be. I’m not sure I’m anybody. I’m just empty. I’m pretty much just a dead woman walking.

Yesterday Tash said something, I forget what, and I actually laughed briefly. And I realised it had been the first time I’d genuinely laughed in days, if not longer. It felt weird. Rusty. I am so quiet these days, in so many ways. There’s a world full of thoughts and feelings inside that I daren’t touch, and so I segregate my thoughts, and keep to the safe and the routine and thus yet another day will pass, which could have been yesterday or tomorrow, as all my days run/blur together. Today’s spring cleaning meant bumping into far too much, and I didn’t even have anyone to share that with, to share how I was feeling about it, to lean on for support.

Grieving is hard work. It’s tiring. It’s walking down a long featureless road on your own, with no destination, weighed down and crippled by your thoughts and feelings, just putting one foot in front of the other, and hoping that one day the journey starts to make sense or have purpose, without any real faith that that will actually happen.

You know what worries me? That this lockdown will end, but my lockdown won’t. That everyone’s life will get back to ‘normal’, and I still won’t have anyone to see, to talk to, and I won’t have the lockdown to blame that on anymore. I’ll just have to face up to the fact that everyone moves on, everyone has their own lives, as they should, and that it’s really just plain old me now. The kids will move on, back to uni, off to other jobs. And there I’ll be. Just me, myself, and I… It doesn’t just worry me. It properly scares me. I really don’t think I can do this on my own. So when it comes to that point, what then?

Another day

I thought I wanted to write more, And I probably do. But now that it comes to it, I don’t feel like putting a lot of those words on the page. It’s been another day. With ups and downs, friends and not so, work and stress, a panic attack, and predictable behaviour from the usual quarters, and it’s another day over. So this is it, for what it’s worth, today.

Simon, the current manager of the Oakhouse, was one of the few locals who were visibly emotional when I had to tell them about Matt. Ironic, since he’s not a local at all. However we spent a lot of time there, it was our chosen place. Where we felt at home. And we spent a lot of time with him, not just there, but also drinks elsewhere, and we both counted him as a friend. He’s been looking after me ever since, letting me keep wine in his fridge, stocking my favourite wine, etc.,……and he leaves tomorrow. I know the Oakhouse will remain, but I feel like I’ve lost my bolt hole, my out of home comfort zone. Austin will still be working there, so I’ll still spend time there, but it’s not going to be the same, which is sad, and depressing, and worrying.

I don’t cope well with change, or stress, or anything at the moment. And today has had everything. I’m glad it’s bedtime. It’s just a shame that tomorrow is unlikely to be any better, as ever.

Last night you were in my dreams and not in a good way. I am carrying a lot on my shoulders at the moment, and if you were here  you would totally understand and get it and just know… we always knew what each other was thinking. So if you feel like popping by again tonight, could you please just come and give me a hug? Because I need one of your hugs SO badly. I know it’ll be just a dream, but it would mean the world to me right now. Even if waking up again afterwards will make me feel bereft again, I feel like that all the time anyway, so it would be worth it.

I love you so much, and I’m trying really hard to keep going, and to do the best I can for you and for us. We knew what mattered.  Our truth. Anything and everything else is just gravy baby.

Hell yeah

So the clocks have gone back. Great. It didn’t really make much difference to me. I was asleep. I just didn’t sleep as long as usual as far as the clock dial is concerned. It’s not like I had anything to get up for anyway. Time is pretty arbitrary these days. It moves on, but my reality doesn’t.

I managed to get some stuff done though, once I was up. Deliberately. I sorted lots of the overwhelming paperwork into piles – trash, file, think about, and panic about. I hung some clothes up to dry. I tidied a bit. Basically I did as much as I could before being at home got too much and I had to leave. I kept my head busy doing things so that I wouldn’t think about Matt.

It’s always a finite thing though, as I work on doing things in our home where he isn’t anymore. I start to feel the reservoir getting closer to overflowing. I can feel the tear clouds gathering. I get shaky and anxious and basically it’s time to be somewhere else. But at least I did get some things done. I have to remind myself of that. I may not have achieved much, but I did do something. Little steps.

Yesterday eldest and I went to the planned Sons of Liberty gig in Bristol. Via a couple of unplanned piercings at Pierced Up. Matt would probably have hated the gig, though I enjoyed it as best I could. No-one notices you crying at a gig. And he’d be cross at me for getting something pierced without him being there. Well I’m cross at him for not being there to hold my hand through all of it, so I guess it balances out. Only I’m not cross at him, even when I try to be – there’s too much sadness in me for anger to get through, and anger wouldn’t serve any purpose anyway.

In the mean time, my brain fog continues. I lose things all the time. I’ve always coped badly with losing things. These days it tends to lead to a major meltdown; it feels like just one more symptom of how useless I am these days. Once upon a time I lived on my own, and although I didn’t necessarily enjoy it, I was at least capable and independent and organised. These days I feel like a three year old, and incapable of coping with anything. Losing things just adds to my feelings of inadequacy and incompetency, of anxiety and panic. I just want my someone here to support and look after me, and he’s not and he never will be.

Whatever other crap is going on, and it is, I’m still concentrating on doing the best by you.  Eldest can’t understand why people would want to take an already shitty situation and make it worse. Or why I won’t kick off about it. You would be furious about it all. But it’s because, like anger, that wouldn’t serve any purpose. I do kinda wish people would remember I have feelings too…but that would be an in an ideal world thing, and I think it’s fair to say my world is far from ideal. 

Yes, I’m carrying on without you. I don’t have any choice. I’m not enjoying it; I still love you, I’m incredibly lonely and I’m very hurt by a lot of what’s going on. I still reach out for you, I still catch myself wanting to share things with you and not being able to. Talking about you in the present tense and having to correct myself. I guess that’s because for me, you’re still very much here, in my thoughts, in my head, in everything I’m doing. If only…💔😥


No eye deer

I don’t know why, but today has not been a good day. I’ve spent all day just missing Matt massively. My pills made me sleep, complete with surreal dreams, but within about ten minutes of being up and awake this morning I was off. No holding it at bay, no coping tactics, just floods of tears from the get go.

Going to work had me panicking, because I know the pressure is ramping up as the show wheel turns. I think I’m doing ok, but I can feel the pressure, and I don’t want to let anyone down, and I want to do a good job, at the same time as kind of not understanding why I’m doing any of it at all. Thank god for diazepam or I might never have found the nerve even to get to the office. And I did get work done, quite a lot of it…but I can feel the tension, the push, the this needs doing… I feel like I’m teetering on an edge. One push too hard and I’ll implode or explode and I don’t know which. It’s probably all just in my head, I’ve always been a worrier, but knowing that doesn’t make it go away.

I accidentally ended up at the pub after work with Mike and James, long time friends of Matt’s, just for a couple of pints, and it was lovely, but all I could think of in the back of my mind was how much he would love to have been there, to be included, to be hanging out with his friends, one of the things he really wanted when he’d moved back here, and he wasn’t there and it was just me; a pretty poor understudy.  And all I wanted was for him to be there too. As ever. And would they have been including me if I wasn’t the “widow”? I know, I know…I over think things.

Family relations clearly remain strained in the background which, though not a surprise, doesn’t hurt any the less. I guess I wasn’t that included or popular when he was alive, so why would it be different now? I have no idea what’s going on in the background, and speculation serves no purpose.But being able to talk to his Mum from time to time in the last few weeks did make a big difference to me, and that’s not currently an option. I have to respect what people want, and all I can do through all of this is to be the best me I can be and do the best for Matt that I can do. And that’s what I’m clinging on to.

I hope, wherever you are, that you are proud of me. That you know how much I love you. That you are holding my hand and supporting me through this, even if I can’t feel it. And once more, I hope you know how much I’m missing you, and wishing for you to be here. Then I could come home and tell you everything and you’d just get it. And hug me. Man I miss your hugs. And you loved mine too. As in so many ways, we just fitted. I miss your crazy.

Let’s face it, I’m so sad it hurts, and I’m lonely as f*ck and there is no substitute for you. Simples. 😭💔


Everyone tells me it gets better with time. Everyone tells me there’s a point at which it gets easier. Except no one can tell me how or when.

He used to skip down the road holding my hand because he was just so pleased to finally be living here with me. He used to lie in bed grinning at at me, just cos he was so happy to be with me, until I had to ask him what the hell he was smiling at me for. Don’t worry, I got my revenge by doing the same to him. Because I was so happy to be with him.

Now I’m just miserable. Missing him twists my stomach into knots. So many many never ever agains and I don’t know how to live without them. I’m a never ending world of tears. I just want him back. i want my other half back. But I can’t have that and no-one can explain to me how I’m supposed to live without him. I know there are all those people out there who have found their way through. I just can’t see mine. Not without him. I had more than enough time on my own before to know I don’t want to do it again.

And it’s all irrelevant. I just want him back. Stuck in a world where I can’t have what I want, and where not having that hurts so much I don’t know how to cope or survive it. I love you my beautiful boy. Tell me why I should stay here without you?

Wherefore art thou?

So I had been feeling a tiny bit better, but thanks to the shit storm of the last couple of days, it’s fair to say I’ve slipped backwards a considerable amount. Luckily today I had a catch-up appointment with the doctor, who has now upped the dose of my antidepressants, to what is still a low dose to be fair, in order to try and help me cope. At the moment every time I nearly get it together something else just comes along to knock me sideways again. Having only recently ceased to feel seriously suicidal, neither of us want me to end up back down there again. Which would seem reasonable, at least when I’m being logical and sensible and so forth.

Still, there’s been a lot of crying today. More than I expected. I guess the last few days have taken their toll. I managed to get lots of work done through the tears, but somehow still didn’t seem to scratch the surface of all there still seems to need to be done. Eldest had to come and sit in the office and read a book just to be there to help me hold it together and provide hugs when necessary, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to stay there.

Even with so much work to do, I couldn’t stay late, or even be the last to leave, because knowing that Matt wasn’t about to come and meet me, and/or sit with me while I worked late, was just too much for me. It’s the ’never agains’ that get me. All the time. How did forever turn into never? How do I do all of this without him?

It’s all feeling a bit overwhelming again. And that’s before I even start on anything house/paperwork related. Which all makes me feel worse because I hate letting people/work down. The piles of paperwork at home are making me panicky, and I hate this broad spectrum out of control feeling, but I don’t seem to be able to do anything about it either. I’m just at the mercy of the rollercoaster of my emotions.

None of which is helped by the fact that it’s a Friday. I hate Fridays. I hate weekends. I have plans up until Saturday evening but after that…nothing. My bro is down tonight and we all went out, and had food, and hung out and chatted, which was all very lovely. And then we came home and attempted to watch a film, which was a good idea in theory…but I’ve had to bail. I can still only hold it together for so long, and that’s not long on a bad day. It doesn’t matter what I do or where I go, I can only run away from ‘it‘ for so long. I just needed to be back on my own, in our room, to cry a lot, and then in a minute I can take the shiny pills and go back to hide in the land of dreams.

Tomorrow we have lunch plans with the folks, which will be nice, although we’ve chosen the Sheppey, which was one of our favourite places, so there will inevitably be tears. Again. Rach and I went there post visit to the crematorium, and it’s still a lovely place, even without him. I can’t let his absence stop me from going to places I love. Or should I? I guess we’ll see how it goes…

Then everyone will go away and it will be just me again. Eldest will be working, and Sunday is currently empty. And yes, I’ve made it through the last few weekends, so why should this one be any different? Not the point. It still scares me, and those empty days were hell. I could just use a little more support to get through the empty patches without having to lean so heavily on eldest. As time goes by, the network of people who swore they’d be there for me is shrinking, as people quite reasonably get back to their own lives. And yes, I’m sure I’ll learn to be on my own again eventually. But as I keep being reminded, it’s still early days. Just 9 weeks. 9 weeks since I lost my beautiful boy 😥.

So many whys. So many questions. So much ‘I wish’… and none of it makes a blind bit of difference. This is how it is now. I will never be who I was before and life will never be what it was.

Missing you hurts so much, and there’s just nothing that makes me feel better. Couldn’t I have just one more hug? Just one? So I could hold on to you forever and never let go again…  😭♥️💔


Out and in

I had a nice day out today at the Frome independent market with Sharon. But I did have to bail at one or two points – it was too busy, there were too many people, too many happy people. I couldn’t cope. But she coped with me, and we muddled through it, and being out somewhere else is better than my constant hanging out in Axbridge, wishing people would approach me, and talk to me, and include me. Mostly I just sit in a corner in a pub and people leave me alone. Well I’d have a sign on my head if I wanted company right?

Matt would have loved it today. Street food, artisan beer, cool clothes, funky jewellery… live music, buzz, everything. So I missed his presence massively all day, just as I’m missing it now. As always…so bad. How can you not be here? When I reach out my hand now, to where yours always was where are you now? I am a long way from acceptance that’s for sure.

I wanted to come home and tell you all about my day and share it with you. But I wouldn’t have had much to say as I couldn’t even really be bothered to shop or rummage or anything; what’s the point when there’s no one at home to share it with? It feels just like a waste of time. As does everything.

Claud the Butler (the coffee guys I’ve known for years) were there, so I said hi, and he expressed his condolences on my bereavement. God knows how he knew – Twitter I guess. But that’s who I am now, the bereaved one. They won’t remember but I’m pretty sure they met Matt. Yet another void opened up when I wasn’t expecting it.

Maybe some people would think I’m being over self indulgent and wallowing and I should be moving on and getting on. “Matt wouldn’t want me feeling like this now would he?” Well actually, he’d probably be quite pleased to see that I love him just as much as I always said I did, even when his insecurities wouldn’t let him believe me. I love you, you eejot! I told you so many times – was this much proof necessary? And whatever he might actually want, he can’t tell me, and I can’t do anything about how I am actually feeling, and I can’t stop expressing those feelings, because bottling things up just makes me feel worse. If you didn’t want me to feel this way, maybe you shouldn’t have died? Just a thought…

Youngest has gone back to uni. Fingers crossed… While eldest seems to have tonsillitis. One thing after another. And another shit day looms ahead. At least it’s a Monday so I might get some time passed by doing some work. I don’t know who I am right now, and I’m really hoping sorting the meds will give me a break. Which I know will take weeks. But I’m not sure how long I can cope with the relentless unbearable unending pain. I feel like what’s left of me is being eroded and there’s less and less left.

Miss you my beautiful boy. I thought time was slowly supposed to help. It’s not. It’s getting harder.

Best laid plans

Got an early night, after a shitty evening of just trying to make the time pass until sleep was a sensible option. Got up at a reasonable hour, disturbed by eldest who was off to do important things. Even with all the sleep I’ve been having, I couldn’t stay awake, even though I really tried. My dreams are not great at the moment, which I guess aren’t helping. They’re scared. Bit like life really.

So finally I got up, hours later. And got ready to go to work – that being today’s plan – to try and get a bit back on track. I think it’s safe to say that this did not go well. Sure, I got dressed, and packed a bag etc, but clearly the thought of trying to pretend life was normal was all too much for my brain. Cue floods of tears…which wouldn’t/won’t stop. Not even walking up the road.

So I’ve come to our local for a drink, and to read my kindle in a quiet corner where I feel safe, to try and get myself calm enough to have a second attempt at going to the office. I’m aware that work is slipping which is just adding to my panicky feelings. Everything is piling up on top of me, and I know I need to get a grip but I have no idea how to do that.

All I know right now is that I miss him like hell, and it’s pretty all consuming.