Unspoken words

I just want to talk to him. Not a deep heart to heart, not questions about whys and wheres and hows and wherefores. Just for him and me to curl up on the sofa, shoot the breeze, chat about each other’s day, and just be normal us for a little while. I want to hear his voice. I want to make him laugh; to hear that belly laugh again. I want life to be, just briefly, what it was. Normal.

And that’s the irony of it all, isn’t it?

The only person you want to talk to, who loves you, your best friend, who could give you the right hug, who knows you inside out and who would know how to help you, the only one who could properly comfort you and support you through your loss…is the person you have lost.

And there’s no getting past or around that…it’s a mobius strip, an infinity symbol, two sides, two dimensions; what you want, what you can’t have, just going round and round and round in your head…

I miss him. So much. All the time.

Ah well, at least Max seems to have decided that he can actually sit on my lap, right?

It’s been a bad week. Ouchy got up to morphine necessitating levels this weekend for the first time in a very very long time. Tash is here but I’ve been quite literally stuck in bed for days, only getting work done, mostly sleeping for the rest of the time. And pain makes it so much harder to cope with anything and everything. Any walls you do have just crumble before it. I just feel so fragile and pathetic and useless…

My counsellor hasn’t returned my call so I’m a bit scared to call her again, because in the current world, there could be anything going on in her world that I could be intruding on… And I can’t bring myself to call the doctors. It’s all too much like hard work to go through the filtering system and tell my many stranded story to some complete stranger over the phone, who will probably be completely useless like the last two times, so why waste my time?

So anyway, Tash is here, and she won’t be here for long, and I’ll feel even worse when she’s gone, and I should be making the most of it. I feel so guilty for letting her down and not being there, for not being mentally present. But she has work to do and I have work to do, and the weather is shit, and the pandemic means options for getting out for entertainment are limited, and so, apparently it’s ok, it’s all understandable, and she doesn’t mind, apart from the fact she’d like us to get some shopping done because there’s no food in the house. Which is a valid point. I’ve been feeling nauseous a lot lately, and the pain patch ramped that up, so food is so far down my list of things to do that I literally don’t even think about it. So yes, shopping is required. She has to eat even if I don’t want to.

In the meantime, we might get to see Austin briefly on the 23rd. Which is nice, though I won’t be holding my breath…best to under expect these days I find.

And I joined a ukbp Zoom on Sunday even though I so nearly cried off, quite literally. I was in floods of tears at the thought of putting on the mask and showing up and faking it, but Tash convinced me it might be good for me, and to be fair it was actually really nice to chat to them, so I’m glad I made myself and I’m glad she made me.

Other than that, the Hyundai definitely needs a new engine and, looking at the price of replacing it versus the cost of that, my poor much loved, with me since birth, little red car, is probably heading for the scrapyard way before its time. Which is rather sad. And “new” car shopping is a crapshoot….

As ever, various other sh*t is going on in the background, that has implications and connotations and emotional impact and the like. Then there’s the “C” word…make that “C” words, plural.

Things are not great all ’round. But then we knew that already. Time is not a healer, and anyone who says that…? It’s been a long time since I’ve punched someone. But right now I feel it might be therapeutic. Or maybe they’d put me away somewhere safe for doing it? So go on, I dare you…

Can we not?

So apparently I’m still here. Lockdown two came to an end. Not that it makes much difference to me, in Tier Two. I can’t meet my socially distanced friends in a pub. I can go for a walk with them, as before, but if I want to be out of an evening, I have to sit in a pub on my own, and eat food (ie spend even more, wasteful (cos I have no appetite) money than usual) whilst being surrounded by Christmas decorations and other households, or those masquerading as such, who I can hear having fun, and being happy, and all I feel is even more painfully lonely. I’ve done it once. I wished I hadn’t. I probably won’t be doing it on my own again.

Matt hated Christmas. He was, back before he was living down here, a delivery driver, so Christmas just meant he was even busier than ever, working ridiculous hours for neither enough money nor any appreciation, which wore him out and stressed him out. Even when he finally got to stop and take time off (which he had to pay to have covered), this was followed up by him being tied to family obligations, spend loads of money he didn’t have, having to be places he didn’t want to be, when he didn’t want to be, and he just hated the whole season. Things were changing slowly once he moved…and I will be forever grateful for the fact that, in our all too short time together, we were lucky enough to have two Christmas days together as just us. A day all to ourselves, with no other commitments, just us. Just the best…

Anyway, I’d forgotten how bad this time of year makes me feel, as it gets darker and damper and danker and colder, but yet also lighter and more festive for others. Neither of which I am even close to feeling. Understatement. I feel completely out of sync with the world. Being out of the house just causes me to feel massive anxiety. I wish it would all just go away. The second year is definitely worse as the shock and numbness wears off and reality properly hits home and sinks in, when everyone else has moved on.

On the upside, it turns out that I am going to be unexpectedly blessed as, not only is Tash home from uni, thus I am no longer currently alone for a bit, but thanks to my Ex (which believe me, is not a phrase I use often), she is going to be with me for Christmas Day. It is his turn to have them, and I was ok with that, but I’m not going to lie; it is nice to know I won’t have to spend Christmas Day on my own, or somewhere else where I’d feel like I was on my own. I have had some lovely invitations to be elsewhere, for which I am deeply grateful and touched, but I would have felt out of place and, well, just…wrong. I’m going to be tired, as ever, probably drunk, and inevitably emotional. I’m always emotional these days. Who really wants that with them on Christmas Day? Home was always going to be the best place to be either way.

So it’s going to be the two of us here. Food will be here in the form of a 5 course hamper for two from The Oakhouse. I will lay on treats, and fizz, and gifts. We will get up when it suits us, and basically just be us, doing whatever we want to do all day. Just like Matt and I did twice. Hopefully it will work out and be good, just like those two Christmasses did. No pleasing anyone else but ourselves. Luckily Tash is not big on Christmas either, and she’s perfectly happy for us not to put up decorations and toe the line, play the game. Which is lovely. Why pretend to be feeling something you’re not? And I’ll be missing him, just as much, and maybe even more, than I do every day. Il me manque toujours.

It’s going to be sad not to see the rest of my family, near and far, though. Just when we probably all most need each other. Tiers will separate us. Everyone else is in Tier 3 at present. My brother’s family are currently socially isolating as my 8 year old nephew has tested positive for Covid. The exceptional Christmas bubble doesn’t cover New Year. Austin will be working over Christmas, down where he now lives. My Mum’s worsening Alzheimer’s just means it’s easier not to try and do things all together, as she won’t cope, and it stresses us all out. The only positive otherwise currently? After Dec 21st, the Winter Solstice, days will very slowly start getting longer again. And that’s what I need. Light, and sunshine, and maybe, hope…?

So Christmas 2020? Just like 2020 as a whole, and most of 2019, it can go do one. Last year was my first Christmas without Matt. This year will be my first Christmas without my son, and my second without Matt. It doesn’t get better. It doesn’t get easier. Did I mention I don’t like firsts? And I also know other people are facing their first firsts and I know how that’s going to feel for them, and my heart is breaking for them…

Lockdown Mark 2 did me in. Nearly literally. Having Tash home is great, a temporary respite, even though we’re both currently spending a lot of a time working separately. Having Austin visit for social distanced contact and food earlier this week with us both, finally making us our eternal triangle again, albeit briefly, was lovely. But I had and have trouble enjoying any of it. Because I knew it was and is all going to to go away again and I know that in a few weeks time, I will be back to living on my own, and not coping… I can’t live in the moment and enjoy what I do have, I always know it’s something I’m going to lose again. I’m trying…and failing dismally. My well of tears is constantly overflowing.

Thanks to Tash making me a list, and a degree of nagging, I’ve gotten a few things done this week. Including calling my counsellor, so hopefully she’ll be in touch soon. Whilst doing some research online the other day, I ended up doing a few surveys, and it would appear I’m probably suffering from severe depression. So, depending on what my counsellor says, I guess I’ll be calling my Doctor, and discussing more anti-depressants, even though I don’t want to go back on them. On the other hand, I don’t want to feel this sad and hopeless all the time either, and other people need me to stay here. But I need something that doesn’t have weight gain as the main side effect. I’m way larger than I was or want to be, even if I’ve started to lose a bit, and that’s seriously counter productive when it comes to my mental state. So…well…who know’s what’s going to happen next with all that?

With the other things coming my way; like Dad’s next hip operation, and having to find residential care for my Mum now, as she is now deteriorating…it feels like it all never ends. And it’s all on me. I just can’t catch a break. Not with anything. Apparently the engine of the Hyundai is seized, which can’t be a good thing. Sofia is still going, but I wouldn’t trust her for a long journey.

I’m doing a lousy job of looking after myself. I am at the bottom of a well without a ladder. How am I supposed to look after myself and deal everything else as well? Sometime it all just feels like too much. Too much responsiblity. When the next thing hits, and there’s always a next thing, I have no margin of error. No bounce. Knock me down, and it takes me forever to get back up again. The only thing I am consistently managing to get done is work, which is a saving grace. It keeps me busy, it passes time, and it earns me money, albeit less than it did thanks to this bloody pandemic. But at least I’m doing something, right?

I don’t know that there was a point to all of the above. It’s just a stream of where I am now. It’s not a great place. I can’t even imagine a better place. But I’m still here. Tash is here. We have some plans, lists of things to do. So, you know, one day at a time as ever, right? I wish I could believe that one day I will feel better. After all everyone says I will…even those in my situation…but I just can’t see it from where I am now. It feels like this is it, but that I just haven’t learnt to accept that yet. I’m still wishing what is isn’t…

 

 

November Rain

I have had a hideous few days. Days without seeing anyone. Days without going anywhere. Shitty weather. Serious pain levels. Off colour. Endless tears, mentally at the bottom of the well… I came close to taking myself somewhere else last night just to, well, not be here on my own. To be somewhere safe. But I didn’t. I told myself to keep breathing. To keep getting through each minute. To get to bedtime and let there be a new day, a tomorrow. And here we are.

My bubble came over yesterday to help out with my car problems. Turns out that whatever is wrong with the Hyundai is more than just the battery – that’s fine, unsurprisingly, as it’s brand new. Something else clearly isn’t fine. Marvellous. So currently the Hyundai is a useless lump of red metal that we managed to roll forwards far enough to leave access to and from the drive open. It is going to need breakdown called out, and then money spending on it. Add another straw to the pile on the camel’s back…

So I took Sofia off the drive to put petrol in her, and to make sure I have some form of functioning transport. That done, I took her for a quick loop, to give myself a bit of a break, have a little fun maybe, and give her a bit of a run…and it turns out that whatever was wrong with her before Matt tried to fix her is still wrong with her. Which is oddly heartbreaking. So she’s going to need to go to the garage again and have even more money spent on her. Yet another straw…

I came home, parked up, came in, and cried all over Dad’s shoulder. Couldn’t help it. He hugged me, and did his best, and he did ask if I’d like to come and stay with them that night – they’re my bubble so it’s allowed – but I didn’t. He was worried about me, and didn’t want to leave me feeling like that and possibly at risk of doing something stupid. He hasn’t actually witnessed how upset and depressed I can be, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that crying like that is how I’d been on and off for days, and that staying over there wasn’t going to help, as I’d still have to come home to real life. Running away doesn’t fix anything, though I will arrange to go and stay over sometime soon.

Today has been better. Better because at least during the week I have actual work to do. Actual purpose. Wake up late. Work until I finish. Eat something, play inane iPad games whilst watching whatever series I’m currently binge watching. Go to bed. Start over. It’s the weekends that are the real killer.

That and not seeing anyone. At all. So it was good to see my folks, even though they couldn’t fix the car, and if my Mum wasn’t, and isn’t, really with us these days. They were people. My people. And I’ve got walks scheduled with friends on Wednesday and Thursday, and maybe Friday. After all, I’m allowed out of the house to exercise with one other person. I also have work to do for the rest of the week. I have chores to do. Mum and Dad got all the cat food and essential supplies I needed for me on their way over here, in case I wasn’t going to be able to get out at all. I have white wine. I have beer. So I should make it to the weekend. Oh good…

Here, have a cat picture. The three of them are still shadowing me… This is Bri, our matriarch, in a rare, unguarded, snuggly moment :).

Love don’t live here any more.

I had a very lovely text yesterday, from someone who reads this, had noticed I haven’t been writing, and was just checking in to see if I was ok. It meant a lot, and no, I didn’t mind you getting in touch. Thank you for caring enough to do so. Because generally people don’t check in anymore. Not that I blame them. Everyone has their own lives to live, paths to walk, journeys to make. I know they’d be there if I reached out to them. It’s just that it’s not something that you feel like you can do when you’re lost down a rabbit hole. Who the h*ll would want to talk to someone feeling like that? It hardly makes me a sparkling conversationalist, and why would I want to drag someone down to these depths anyway?

But I’m still here. As it happens, now that Austin has moved out, and Tash has gone back to uni, I’m still here all by myself. Well not right now. Right now I’m at the pub writing this because I haven’t seen an actual person in two days, and I’ve only talked to a couple of people, not including work. It wasn’t doing my head any good, so I thought maybe I should go and see other people having a life, even if I don’t have one. That and I need to pop to the shop, so I forced myself to get my arse in gear and here I am.

Yes I’m still here. Living on my own. Except it’s not really living. It’s just existing. Sitting my empty house. The house feels weird, like no-one lives in it anymore. As the title to this latest epistle says, love don’t live here anymore. It’s quiet. Emptily eerily quiet, like a long abandoned ruin. And I know it hasn’t been long, and I’m sure I’ll get used to it, I’m just in the middle of a period of readjustment.

In the meantime, even though I know I should, I can’t seem to find the energy to arrange to see anyone. To go visit anyone. To exercise. To leave the house. Hell, I barely get out of bed most of the time, since that’s where I tend to work from too. And writing here? Well I’m just going to sit here and pour my pain on to the page again, and who wants to hear me going on and on about that? So I haven’t been writing either. I have at least managed to carry on working, but I haven’t invoiced anyone for months and I haven’t done my personal accounts for even longer. Not good.

Don’t wake me up
It’s the best that I’ve felt in weeks
And to be completely honest
I’d rather be happily dead or asleep

The only thing I’m really good at at the moment is sleeping. 12 hours straight easy, however many alarms I set. Because however many alarms I set, my brain knows they’re just arbitrary, and as such can be ignored. There is no real reason I should wake up; I don’t have appointments, or plans, and so… I hit snooze over and over again, and eventually end up waking up far later than I wanted to, which just gives me something else to beat myself up about. But hey, at least I then have less of a day to get through before I can go back to sleep, right?
Sometimes I make an effort. I try and find something to do. As you can see, I’ve bleached and dyed my hair. I even put a smile on for the camera, as I was showing Tash the results. I’ve made a new pendant out of a goldstone heart that Matt bought me. I’m refurbishing a lazy susan I got secondhand. I’m binge watching box sets. Anything to kill some time…
This was supposed to be our time. Our happy ever after, being together for the rest of our lives. Not just for the rest of his. I am missing him so much, and it still hurts just as much as ever, even if it has a slightly different quality to it. There’s still so much I want to say to him, and can’t. So many places I can’t go without him. There’ve been a lot of memory flashbacks just to help make things that little bit worse. I miss him, I miss my kids, I miss my life, and I miss who I was. The sheer loneliness of life now is heartbreaking and soul destroying and quite literally painful.

I’m most definitely not OK. Well, the me that is writing this isn’t. The me who goes through the motions at home, and randomly bursts into tears at the drop of a non-existent hat isn’t OK. Sometimes I go out, and it’s nice to be out, and to see people. Most people probably think I’m ok. I can chat, and laugh, and be distracted, and I’m grateful to them for including me, and for the semblance of normality it brings, while all the time feeling like I’m standing slightly off to one side from myself, watching it all go on. And then I have to go home, because I’m tired of dancing. So I go home, drained, to a still empty house. Everything is where I left it. All the things I’m not getting done are still not done. Nothing has changed. There’s a feline saving grace though. In the absence of any other option, each of our three cats will now spend some time sitting on me at some point during the day. And Max gives good cuddles. They make me cry, but that’s ok, I do that on and off all day anyway. Crying with fluffy cuddles is better than crying alone.
I know that with time, I will establish a new routine, I will find things to do, projects to put my mind to. I will visit people, I will see friends, I will get back on the spin bike, and maybe one day I’ll get around to going away by myself again, like I used to once upon a long time ago. I’m just not there yet.

Out and about

Another day. But one that was a little better, as they go.

We got out of the house.

We went and saw someone who has become a friend over the last year. As I’ve said before, it’s odd who has come out of the woodwork to support me, and also who I thought would, and then haven’t. Not to mention the grief tourists – those who popped up to vicariously enjoy the ride, be seen to be being oh so supportive, and then vanished in the haze.

We picked up some repaired jewellery, that is special to me, and having a particular bracelet back on my wrist felt good. I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed it being there.

I then played taxi so Tash could see friends.

Being out is better than being in.

It also turns out that Austin will be down Friday/Saturday for one final family body art Bristol trip, as he wants new ink before life gets properly locked down again since, like me, he thinks that’s going to happen. And I think I’ll get the matching dermal since it turns out that Ruby has a spare appointment at the same time. Why not, right? It’ll be nice to be all together again, however briefly. The crest before the crash.

On the downside, COVID-19 is further f*cking with life, and if things go as I fear they will, there’s a very real possibility that I could end up out of a job in the middle of next year. And it’s always good to have something else to add to the list of things to worry about, right?

And don’t tell me not to worry, as life keeps showing me that things can always get worse.

Anyway, today was better than yesterday.

Fear isn’t the killer, loneliness is.

It’s going on stupid o’clock, as ever.
But then who cares?
For the second day in a row, in my home alone trial run, it’s been just me.

No-one cares when I go to bed.
No-one is there when I do.
No-one cares when I wake up.
No-one is there when I do that either.

I got a large chunk of work done.
I cried a lot.
I did chores.
I cried a lot.
I went up the road for a pint with my kindle. before I did the shopping and came home and forced myself to eat, because that’s what people do.
It’s also the only way I was going to have any actual human contact.
Not a phone call from the boss.
Or the odd random text from whomever.
Actual talk with a real person, in person.

And I did, after a fashion, chat to a couple of other people, in a completely meaningless pass the time kind of way.
And then I shopped.
And I walked home, crying a lot.
And then I came home, to an empty house.
And cried some more.

The cats are missing the kids, fighting over territory, and not yet quite ready to give in and concede that they might have to spend time with me, in my role as understudy.
The reptiles have all just eaten, and let’s face it, they’re not really all about the feels.

So here I am.

On the sofa.
All by myself.
White wine, crappy TV, iPad games.
Which would be heaven to some people.
Sadly I’m not one of them.
It’s just sh*t.

I guess I’ll go to bed soon.
That being what people do.
And then I’ll be asleep, where I get to go and live in one of many worlds, away from this one, and from which waking up is like waking the dead, and I fight it with every fibre of my being, because I’d rather be in those dreams than in this life.

So I’ll wake up.
Cry a lot.
I’ll make coffee, take my meds, cry a lot.
And then tomorrow will be just like today.

Rinse and repeat.

As trial runs go, I think it’s going swimmingly, don’t you?

Tick, tock…

Exhausted

I am so tired of doing this. Of feeling like this. Day after day after day. I’ve tried to reach out to my mates, and ask for help, for contact, for support, and I’ve managed to make arrangements to see the odd person over the next week or so, but I’m so introverted these days that I’m so anxious about going out and seeing them, even though I know it’s a good thing to be doing, that I could easily end up bailing. There’s a couple of people I should call back, but I just can’t bring myself to. I’m not good with phones. I know I need to get out. I know I need to talk to people. But I know that even when I do I won’t have the kind of conversation I actually need to be having. I won’t pour my heart out and let people in. I’ll play nice and say the right things and put on a brave face and skip over the awkward bits, and pretend I’m getting by.  And I’m not. Not by a long shot.

And while I keep myself to myself and try not to spread misery everywhere I go, and keep out of everyone’s way and not be a burden, the kids are bored, and when they’re not they’re doing their own thing, seeing their own friends and generally carrying on regardless. Eldest was in his room all day today and literally only appeared for food. Youngest is around more, and being a bit more helpful, and is doing the cooking, but in the meantime eldest gives me attitude every time I ask him to do anything cos, like, why should he, he lives here, but it’s not his house and his things and his pets so why should he do anything about tidying up after himself, or helping with shopping, or feeding them, right? And so just like now when he was being sloppy and lazy about putting the recycling out, he snaps at me for pointing that out, and just like when he snapped at me the other day, what he said was cruel and uncalled for and it hurts, and everything already hurts, and on top of everything else, it’s just too much. I already don’t want to be here. I love them both to bits; they’re the only good things in my life…so if my kids don’t want me to be here either then there really isn’t any point, is there? They’re old enough now that they’d just carry on regardless. They have money, they’d inherit my money and the house; job done. Everything they need without the parental overlord around – who could ask for anything more?

The last couple of days have been full of randomly triggered memories and flashbacks, and I just feel like I’m drowning in them. There he is…and then there he isn’t again. And it hurts so much. What with those, and Fathers’ Day, and just…just everything…it’s too much. I don’t want to do this anymore. Don’t panic though. Well, not now anyway. I’m safe for the time being. I’m going to bed, I’m going to sleep, and I’m going to hide in my dreams for as long as possible, even though I have work I should be getting up to do. And then finally I’ll have to wake up, and realise that all I have ahead of me for the day is another day of what today was, what yesterday was, what the day after tomorrow will be. And there’s no-one here to hold my hand through it. To hug me when I’m falling apart. To listen to me say all the things that are eating me up inside. Not only is the one person who could have done all of that the reason behind it all, but he’s also gone and so, for the most part, has everyone else. I’m not strong. I’m not brave. I’ve never felt so incapable of coping in my life. Is it any wonder I’m struggling? How the f*ck does anyone get through this? You’d have thought it would get better. It doesn’t. In fact I’d swear it’s getting worse, precisely because it isn’t getting better. Hope does not spring eternal. It gets eroded away just like everything else. Don’t let the bastards grind you down? Too bl**dy late. Each day is another mark on the wall of the prison cell, just counting down the days until I get to walk through those gates… I hate the me I am now.

I just wish I didn’t feel so alone, and so lonely, and so sad. Is that too much to ask? Just a glimmer of light, a sign things might one day be better? No? Yeah, thought as much.

Not so comfortably numb

Today was…weird. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was stoned. But I wasn’t. Ain’t touched nothing like that in a very long time. So for whatever reason I just felt very cut off, very numb, very spaced out and disconnected, and very, very tired. Very…odd.

But I just went with it. No point fighting some battles is there? I managed to get some shopping done mid afternoon so that we could eat. But other than that I just went with it. I sat and rocked gently in the sunshine, and did the usual inane things I do to pass the time at the moment. I even had to have a nap late afternoon; it’s been a while since that happened. But if that’s what my body and brain needed to be doing today then hey, have at it right?

It wasn’t exactly unpleasant. Or pleasant. Not thinking about anything much at all has its advantages. As a result I’d managed to mostly keep it together, apart from the odd moment here and there, until this evening my 8 year old nephew popped up and rejoined my team on one of the iPad games I play, and told me that he missed Matt, Loren (his sister), and me. Coming as it did, out of the blue, it pretty much floored me. Just heartbreaking. What can you say? Me too? There’s nothing to be said that can make a damn bit of difference…though I did my best. I can’t get my head around it all at my age, how on earth is he supposed to at his age? Instead we flew dragons together for a bit and chatted about nothing, before parting ways to respectively head for the land of nod. I have a funny feeling he should probably have been asleep already anyway, not playing games with me 😉

So off to bed I go in my turn. I need to do some actual work tomorrow. And sit on a spin bike. Provided I don’t feel like I did today that is. Then all bets are off…

Mind’s eye

So apparently it’s Monday. Not that you can tell these days. But in honour of it being nominally the start of the week, I got up at some point, and did some work. I FaceTimed Tash for a bit. And the afternoon passed by. It wasn’t great, but it was you know, okish.

Then the boy and I decided to go for a short circular walk, to get out of the house and to end up at the shop – we’d run out of beer amongst other things. And as we walked out from the reservoir, down the main tree lined drive, towards the main road, a cyclist coming towards us bunny hopped over the speed bump…

And suddenly, dragged forth from somewhere in my memory, there was Matt, clear as day, ahead of me on his bike, bunny hopping over a pothole. And as the memory reel turned, I expect I called him a show off as usual, and he turned around and grinned at me, in the way that he did. And it’s been playing on loop in my mind’s eye ever since. It’s so vivid. And I know I’m torturing myself by watching it, but it’s so nice to see him, so vibrant and alive and so…him. But really all it does is point out, all over again, yet somehow freshly and anew, that I’m never going to see him again. I’m never going to see that grin again. I’m never going to ride a bike with him ever again. In fact I’m increasingly convinced that, even though I’m riding the spin bike, I’m never going to ride my bike again, because I just can’t see how I can without him. How is my beautiful boy not here anymore??? How am I supposed to carry on without him?

Everything is back to feeling so raw, so painful, and so pointless. There’s no respite to be found in being at work, or hanging out in company, having a few beers and pretending it’s ok. It’s just relentlessly the same, day in, day out. The sun shines, or it doesn’t, but I still feel the same inside. I can’t get away from myself, and I can’t, and shouldn’t, lean on Austin all the time. But I haven’t got anywhere else to lean. Right now we’re all stuck within our own four walls, and inside our own heads. And believe me, that’s not a good place for me to spend too much time.

I just want him back. I feel like I’m never going to be whole or happy again, because there is always going to be a part of me missing, and a part of me will always be missing him. I have to be here, I will continue being here, because I have no choice. But currently I feel like I’m just marking time until my turn comes. I need this lockdown to end. I need the world to start turning again. How can I move on while nothing is moving?

You may have gone on ahead, but one day I’ll follow, I’ve got your back, and I’m on your wheel…

Hell in a hand basket

I don’t know how I feel at the moment. The world is upside down. And everything is really complicated, both inside my head, and outside of it.

Matt never lived in this strange new world. So he’s not missing in it. And in some respects that helps. There is so much to be worrying about that is more in the here and now, that I get to put the grief slightly on to the back burner. Slightly.

But then this strange new world is also really scary, and when what I really want is a Matt hug, to curl up with him, and for us to hunker down under house arrest together, then I miss him more than ever. And I’m scared by what’s happening, and what might happen and what it means for all of us, and I don’t have his shoulder to lean on or cry on. And then I cry a lot, because the two of us could take on the world, and the one of me can’t.

Closing all the pubs and restaurants and social places really upset me. Which I know is stupid and irrational. And I totally understand why it had to be done, and I’m surprised it wasn’t done sooner. It’s not about the alcohol though. It’s about having somewhere warm and reassuring and safe to go; a lifeline when Austin was away. It was hard enough getting people to come and hang out with me before. Now that we’re all self-distancing, now that there’s nowhere to meet; it’s just me, and a now out of work Austin, rattling around in the house together. That’s just not great for anyone’s mental health – probably his included!

Like I said on my last entry, I’d just started to feel a little bit better from time to time, and now I definitely like I’ve been knocked back a few steps. But I’m just going to have to keep on keeping on, as ever. As ever, I have no choice. On the upside I’ve been on the spin bike three times now. And in the meantime we’ll watch a lot of films, and try and keep busy, and I’ll keep working from home, and…well, we’ll see won’t we? No-one knows where this is going to go…

Tomorrow is Mothers’ Day, and neither of my kids have really gotten their act together and done anything about it, though I’m fairly sure Austin is currently desperately trying to put something last minute together in his room. I know it’s not a big thing, but it’s another one of those important dates that I will be doing on my own, and I know it’s stupid, but I feel a little let down, and I’m kinda disappointed in them. It’s the little things that mean so much these days, and I really need supporting through them. I’m pretty sure that my birthday is going to go much the same way. I used to love my birthday. This year it’s now going to suck even more than it was already going to do without Matt. Yes, I’m needy. Sorry, not sorry. I have a couple of ideas of my own as to what I might do to salvage things a bit though. Once again, it’s time to make the best out of a very bad situation the best I can.

Today we’ve coped. Day 1 of however long it’s going to be… I slept in, a lot, surprise surprise. Then after some chores Austin and I went for a walk around the res, complete with lager to drink when we got back to the Square. Walks end up with pints in pubs. No pubs = improvisation. And it was good to be outside, and get some fresh air. I had to hold Austin’s hand though, just for a little while, because I was so missing holding Matt’s hand on a walk we would usually have gone on together. I just wanted that feeling… Just because the world has gone to hell in a hand basket doesn’t mean I don’t miss him. Like I said, it’s complicated. I don’t like living upside down, even if I could believe there are angels looking over me.

PS: Someone sent me a lovely book to put my thoughts in today. I think I know who it was, but the signature wasn’t really clear… Whoever you were, thank you very much, it’s a lovely thought and a beautiful book. I’ll try and do it justice.