Do what?

I need to find something I actually enjoy. And things to look forward to. I’m just going through the motions at the moment. I’m trying to do my job, and I’m sort of getting there, but I’m not enjoying it like I did. As I’ve moaned before, there just doesn’t seem any point to it. Or anything else. But I don’t want life to carry on like this, it’s not living. But I can’t think of anything to fill the gaps with. Drinking is not a solution. Cycling is out of the question. I don’t really have hobbies and even those I used to have would still involve me sitting at home on my own. I guess I could try walking again, I used to do quite a lot of that in my own, but it just doesn’t appeal yet – my brain would think too much, and I’d just spend the miles crying.

Maybe I’m just asking for too much just yet. I’m like a stuck record I know, but I just miss him so much. It’s all encompassing. There are some lads doing some work on the church steps, and just for a second, out of the corner of my eye, one of them could have been Matt, in his battered old boots, scruffy work shorts, paint splattered layers and luminous gilet, and there he was vivid as anything in my head. Except it wasn’t, and he wasn’t bounding over to join me for a cheeky lunchtime pint, with a big grin on his face, and a hug ready for me, and it was just me sat there on my own again.

Baby steps. Hey at least I am going to work in a minute, and then I have plans for after work, so hopefully that will fill up the rest of today. One day at a time….

Tumbleweed

I am desperately looking around for things to fill my time with this week. And the next, and beyond. My calendar has tumbleweed blowing through it and a massive Matt shaped void stamped all over it. Plans we had that we won’t be doing. The gig that eldest is now taking me to instead of Matt. The time when eldest will be away for the best part of two days and I’m petrified about coping on my own. Being totally on my own. Which I know is ridiculous. But knowing that doesn’t make it go away.

At least we went and bought all the beasties bugs today. So they can eat, and be a bit less neglected, And I also got a chunk of work done, even if there is still just as much left to be done, I’d rather a weekday over a weekend these days. So I went, I worked, I left before I could be left behind again. Some stuff got done.

I’m trying really hard to do what I’m supposed to do. To keep it together. To keep the face on. But it’s a bit like Sisyphus rolling his boulder to the top…it always rolls back down again. And then there he isn’t again, and I’m missing him like hell again, and wishing it was time that was rolling back. I just want him back so badly and I still can’t really believe he’s gone for good. I keep finding things of his, that meant stuff to him, that will mean nothing to anyone else but him, or to me, or to us. What do you do with a life condensed into, and reduced to, photos and bits and pieces? It all feels like a such a waste, and every thing I find kicks off the next tsunami, and I’m in floods again. Someone asked me if I was ok today, and I just had to say that I have no idea what okay is anymore. I’m here. That’s all I am.

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…  😭♥️💔

 

Never ending

On the upside the new meds seem to be helping. On the downside yesterday the Coroner rang me. Not my favourite way to be woken up, that’s for sure. Although sadly I can actually think of far worse these days… 😥

Apparently the tests revealed that the cause of death is probably related to a mix of alcohol and prescription drugs. Therefore they have to have an official coroner’s inquest to decide on the official cause of death to be recorded on the death certificate. Which just raised more questions and means yet more waiting. Hopefully (as if hope is a word that applies to any of this) the inquest will take place next month.

Then, as planned, eldest took me over to the undertakers to pick up my share of Matt’s ashes. Which came in a lovely simple little wooden box tied up with a purple ribbon. (I wonder if they knew that was his favourite colour?) And in there a part of him shall rest until I take him to one of our beaches, at whenever the right time turns out to be, and share him with the sea, so that whenever I go to a beach I can imagine that a little bit of him is there with me. Although at the moment I’m not sure I could ever face going to a beach without him…

Since my day had already gone to hell in a hand basket, eldest and I decided to have an afternoon off. We mooched around Wedmore, bought the odd thing, and had a couple of beers sat outside the Swan in the sun. I bought a lovely pair of simple silver star earrings which seemed right. Matt was my star and he always will be whether he’s here with me or not, and I’m trying really hard to cling on to that. ⭐️

It was as nice an afternoon as it could be really. As long as I didn’t sit in a chair with a back to it – falling down the stairs really did a number on my back! I even got some work done when we got back in to town, even if it did have to be at The Lamb as I still couldn’t face being at the house for hours. Then we headed back, I even ate dinner, and my new shiny pill made sure I drifted off to sleep nice and early. Apparently it’s a well known side effect of mirtazapine. Finally, a side effect to one of my drugs that’s helpful.

Today I woke up to the official letter from the coroner. Waking up is not going well this week…  There’s always something worse about seeing such things in black and white isn’t there? Turns out it was a mix of alcohol, tramadol, and morphine. I  don’t know whether that means too much of one or the other or what, or that there was some sort of bad interaction between them. Like I said, more questions…  I think the worst bit about that, and there are so so many, is that it feels like maybe none of this need have happened. He could still be here with me, with us. Which is the only thing I want in the world. So today has gone to rat shit too…

I’d give anything to have you back, my beautiful boy. Life will never be the same without you. Love you to the beach and back 😭💔

Bumps

So the new pills are apparently not that good for balance. At c.2am this morning, on the way to the bathroom, I tripped over a book that has been lying around for ages on the landing for some reason, and ended up falling at least halfway down the stairs. Which would have been painful enough, but then the big metal stair ladder that lives there fell over and landed on top of me. No point in half measures right?

Apparently I nearly gave Austin a heart attack. Having woken him up with the commotion, not only was I not in a good place from a movement perspective when he found me, but he says my breathing was really weird and shallow too. However, I have survived, even if I have some amazing bruises developing all over, ripped off a finger nail, and have a long oozing graze all the way down the knobbly bones of my lower spine. Nice. He has however kindly requested that I not do it again…

Today was a tiny bit better though. Apart from the sore back of course.  I didn’t cry non-stop all day. I felt a bit more “me”, and also just occasionally like life might actually be liveable one day in the far distant future. And I actually went to work and got a decent chunk of work done. OK, so what passed for my “sang froid” only lasted until around mid afternoon, but…whether it’s the lack of the old meds or the start of the new ones, that’s something right?

But I’m here alone now, until eldest gets back from work. I decided to come home, try and be alone, try to eat something, and to cease hiding out up there. I’m not sure if I’m glad I did or not. I still cried my way all the way back to the house, to what was once a home. Our home. Which it isn’t now. And I’m still so sad he isn’t here now. I wanted to get home and tell him I’d been doing a bit better, and have him be proud of me. I wanted one of his amazing hugs. I still do.

And I guess maybe a bit of me feels a bit guilty for coping a little better today. I really want to reassure him that just because I held it together for longer doesn’t mean I don’t miss him just as much, or that I love him any less. It’s just medication. I’m NEVER going to love him less, and I couldn’t love him more if I tried. No-one else is ever going to get 100% of me, because there is always going to be a part of me that permanently belongs only to him. And I’m still going to cry myself to sleep wishing he was here beside me, just one touch, one move, one breath, one heartbeat away…

I did try

I did try not to cry first thing this morning. I held it off for as long as I could. Bit of a waste of time really. Didn’t work, dam broke anyway. Ah well, time to cry into my latte then. Then I’m going to try going to work. Then a break. Then back to work. Leastways that’s the plan…

We tried to go and stay over at my folks last night. I did the coastal walk down to the Windmill with Austin, which Matt and I used to do all the time, and pretty much wailed the whole way there. I couldn’t finish my food, conversation was choking me, and eventually by subtle txt msg I persuaded Austin to take us home once we were back at their place rather than to stay over; because I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go and sleep in “our room” in yet another bed where he wasn’t going to be. I must apologise to Dad better today…but there was too much Matt shaped void everywhere for me to cope with, including his favourite beer being on tap.

I tried to take a nice photo on the walk down, but I just can’t smile for photos, it feels like I’m lying, and the last photo taken there was with…yep, Matt of course. So shit photo really.

Luckily by the time we got back to our house, bike bracelet Gary was up for an emotional wreck turning up on his doorstep, and just being able to talk a lot and shoot the breeze a bit calmed me down quite a lot. Because if I’m not talking, I’m crying. And frequently I’m doing both. I need people not to mind that.

It’s just that I’m not really holding it together and when some very nice chap today asked me, while I was sat on a bench in the Square, if I had enough people around supporting me, my honest answer was no, not enough. Everyone expects me to ask if I need help or company, whilst not realising that reaching out is really difficult for me, and I don’t want to impose, or intrude, or bring people down.

It’s weird who turn out to be the supportive ones and who don’t isn’t it? I barely know him, but he was more help in 5 minutes than some have been in hours, and he came over cos he could see I was struggling, rather than turning his head and walking on by as others have been known to do. I may chat to him again at some point too.

I’m just lonely and needy and I don’t know what to do with myself the entire time. Whoever myself is now.

Waiting waiting waiting….

Waiting for the Coroner’s investigation to move on, whether we like the answers or not.
Waiting to come off these meds (which I think have made things worse) to get on to the new meds (which clearly I’m hoping will help).
Rang the recommended counsellor, who work have very generously offered to help pay for. However, predictably, it turns out that she’s away for a week and then on training for the week after. So that’s more waiting then.
And then I’m waiting for a patch, however small, when I feel like I’d rather be alive than the alternative.
Yes I’m getting through from one day to the next, kinda, but this isn’t living. It’s barely even existing.

Maybe I should just sell up, store everything, and then f*ck off somewhere until, well ever. Bearing in mind I barely managed to get out of bed today, that seems unlikely. At least here is where he was, and I can kinda sense the echo of him, and us, around me. If I concentrate very hard and close my eyes in the snug in the Oakhouse, I can almost feel him holding me. Scarce comfort is better than none.

And Axbridge have been really supportive, even if the novelty of looking after the wailing banshee has worn off now, let’s face it, who can blame them?

So if I left I’d be lost & lonely in the middle of wherever without you, knowing no-one. Instead of stuck lonely in the middle of a twilight world with you.

Man I wish you’d come back. I miss you so much. I really hope you know that.

Limbo

So the coroner still can’t give me any idea when we might get any information or progress. He’s very nice and professional and sympathetic but he can’t give me information that he doesn’t have.

I keep falling asleep early, probably to escape being awake and get another day over and done with . Except now I wake up in the wee hours, and can’t go back to sleep because he’s not there all over again and I so wish he was, and there go the floodgates.

Then I finally fall asleep again. Wake up at a more sensible time. And start crying all over again, because nothing has changed has it? I didn’t realise it was physically possible to cry this much. Mornings are like a non-stop flow. Right now I’m hiding at the Oakhouse again, crying, and girding my loins so as to try to spend some time at work again.

I am getting some work done, which is good, but two hours is my threshold. At which point I just can’t anymore, and I need to be somewhere else, because I just don’t see the point to what I’m doing. Work are being adorable though – more of which another time.

In the meantime…as of 8:30 this morning, it’s now been seven weeks. It feels like years, or minutes, depending. The changing of the seasons is upsetting me because I don’t want the world to move away from him and us. I’m not moving anywhere, I’m just stuck. And I have yet another completely empty weekend ahead of me, and what use are weekends to me now? Sure, we’ll figure stuff out. But it’s not something I’m looking forward to.