After an irrationally and uncontrollably weepy start to the day, I went into Bristol with Kevin, and got my calf tattoos finished. For whatever reason, it hurt more than usual, and I was very glad my two hours session wasn’t the previous 5.5 hour session. And now they’re both finished. And they look great. Tash’s designs look awesome, just like I knew they would. Which is why I decided to get the back of my calves done, even if I’d never wanted to tattoo my lower legs before. Once I saw those designs, that was it. I just knew…
Matt knew about them, even though he shook his head indulgently at me while rolling his eyes at me, for changing my mind about such a thing so easily. But he wasn’t surprised. He got it. He knew it was about family. He didn’t really mind. Even though I hadn’t gotten around to it, he knew I was going to get them done at some point, and I’m pretty sure he would love them. Actually sod that, I’m not pretty sure. I’m totally sure. He would love them as much as I do. But I so miss being able to show them to him, to share them with him. It hurts. And considering the clothes I’m wearing these days, no-one else is likely to see them anyway. They’re just mine for the time being, though I’ll post the pictures at some point when they’re healed. They’re just another part of me that you don’t get to see or really know about until you get to know me. I can’t imagine there ever being anyone in my life who I properly want to share them, or anything, with. But I do love that they’re still a thing that ties her and me and him together. He loved her artwork. He knew that artwork was going to end up on on me. And now it has. And I love it.
Whilst there, thanks to Ruby finally getting the stuck tunnel out of my left ear lobe, that one is now stretched to 10mm too, just like the right one, though it needs to settle for a while. Which is great. Both goals achieved. I’m symmetrical. Go me! But guess what? I miss not being able to share that with him too…
But all this being done means that anything I do from here on in is going to be something he didn’t know about. Something he is in no way personally involved with. I’m not going to know for sure that he would have liked it. I’m not going to have talked to him about it, shared it with him. It feels weird. It feels like losing him a tiny little bit more. Every step I take forward is a step further away from him, another step into a world where he isn’t, when all I want to do is run back into his arms, and stay there, secure and safe. That’s how being in his arms made me feel. That was home. This isn’t.
Now I just feel sad. I’ve been so good, I’ve held myself together for most of the day, from the tattoo, to the pub, to seeing friends, whatever, however pleasant it was…but now what I’d really like is some quiet solitary space now. I want to cry, the sort of primal crying that comes from deep inside. I want to, maybe need to, let it all out, to curl up around myself, and howl into the wind. I’ve held it inside all day, and it’s overflowing. But I can’t do that now, because I’m at home, and Austin is home, and I feel like I can’t let go like that when there’s any sort of audience. So it’s sitting there, bubbling just under the surface, like I guess a pressure cooker must feel… It will come out, at some point. It always does. Maybe a late night walk is called for…or maybe I just need to go to sleep and save that for another day, and hope it passes until the next time it overwhelms me.
And I keep doing things, and making plans, and doing them, and hoping that somehow those things being done will make me feel better, and it will be ok, and life will be right again. I’ve taken another step along the road. Like it’s a check box. I’ve done good; can I have him back now? I did stuff without him; can I be ok now? Nope. I can’t. It doesn’t work like that. Grieving is not a linear process. It’s a f*cking rollercoaster, a maelstrom, a sh*t storm.
I felt shit this morning. Because every morning waking up reminds me of where I am, and the life I am living, and that it is still the same shit, and that whatever I’m due to to do that day, I will be doing without him. And part of the feeling shit is the worry that I will just keep feeling this way forever. That life will NOT get better. That this is it. This is my life. And sadly there is nothing to cling on to to tell me or show me otherwise. Whatever people may tell you, they are not walking the same path as you. I hope that that, as those further down the path than I say, it will get easier. Tomorrow is another day…but there’s not reason to believe that tomorrow will be any better than today.
But hey, I made it through another day, right?