I had a trying day today. I probably don't have to explain this in detail - the day for lovers, and mine is in a box on the funeral directors' shelf (and I really need to do something about that... but that's another post). I was in a knot of anger and self-pity from yesterday morning onward. Hating it and hating myself but unable to bring any influence to bear on my state of mind. My body feels permeated with anger and…
I have had quite a few good days recently. I survived the festive season. I returned to work. I have socialised. I have shopped for the occasional treat. I have even eaten some spinach rather than a takeaway. Not that a single of these days has passed without some tears, but I have been functioning well. But life currently feels like the Goliath of grief is sparring with the tiny David inside me that feels more intensely…
15 Dec 2016
I am not physically homeless. I am lucky. I have a roof over my head and can afford heating and lighting. The streets around me are not being shelled or bombed.
Emotionally, though? I have no home any more. I never realised until now how much that sense of security depended on your presence. I can't find any peace in this house, but neither is it to be found in my parents' house or a friend's house or the…
8 Dec 2016
Read the f***ing manual, for the non-geeks reading.
I have a long-standing tendency to want to Get Things Right, a legacy of being a 'bright child' rewarded for exam performance who grew into an overeducated adult rewarded for solving other people's problems.
So grieving is no different. I want to Do It Properly. Not make mistakes. Get it right first time, so I don't have to do it again. I have been…
6 Dec 2016
I gave away his food today.
Not all of it. I kept the bottles of truffle oil. I remember him opening the package in his bed, smelling the white and the black in turn, delighted at the thought of me finishing risottos off with a flourish even though we both knew (but did not acknowledge) he wouldn't be eating them with me.
But I gave away the soup, the unopened packets of biscuits, even his beloved Marmite…
