Life didn't seem too bad last week, that is until Friday.
On Wednesday I went to the running group and chatted to the same lady I has spoken to the week before. Certain members had obviously decided they wanted to make it more competitive, and overtook us, but we just looked at each other knowingly, once they had overtaken, they didn't actually make any ground on us.
On Thursday I shouted at two teenagers who thought it was acceptable to kick my back gate, just because Toni was barking at them. I had heard them screaming and chatting outside the gate before they kicked it, and it was easy for me to go out of the front door and meet them as they came round the bend.
Then on Friday the sadness hit. I clumsily reached out for help on FB, but the replies centered around my running, I hadn't even got the energy to reply to them.
I thought my run on Saturday would lift my mood, but by the evening I was sobbing continuously. My sense of loneliness engulfing me.
I had hoped that after a good sleep I would feel better on Sunday, but I felt worse. The paralysing panic of being alone made it difficult to function, at even a basic level. As if to mirror my mood, torrential rain began at 4 in the morning and continued into the rest of the day.
This morning I am about the same. I know I cannot let the panic that engulfed me take hold again today, but I feel physically ill. My whole body is heavy and my head "wooly" I'm struggling to string coherent thoughts together. I am in pain mentally and physically.
Monday 23 September 2019
Monday 16 September 2019
What a week.
I seem to be falling into a pattern of blogging weekly now the dust is starting to settle. What a week it has been. I have had my garden dug up front and back by men looking for a gas pipe. I have caused mayhem, albeit unintentionally, and had to be an A&E nurse as a consequence. On Wednesday I started my This Girl Runs 0 to 5km course. It went really well, possibly because the run leaders were taking it easy with us for the first session. I did complain to my friend afterwards that their idea of a brisk walk was a snail's pace. I have now completed the two homework sessions. 5 minutes BRISK walk, 6 x 90 seconds jog (run) and 5 minutes BRISK walk. The Couch to 5K app that we use for homework asks for goals before embarking on the course. They are as follows:
Friday 13th started out so well. Despite it being the four month-versary I started the day positively. Mid morning I had a message from my son's girlfriend saying my son had decided to drive straight up here after his night shift Christmas Day and they would be having dinner with me. I was so excited and pleased that I started to sort out the cabinets in the dining room, they are stuffed with things, some of which need to go. The table was soon full so I decided to empty one of the crates that Tall had brought with him fourteen years ago. At the bottom was a photograph in a frame. The glass had broken and underneath was Tall, him in his suit at his first wedding, forty-four years ago. My heart broke. Grief for his loss four months ago and grief for the years I never had. Grief that our paths hadn't crossed years ago. I quickly realised that I cannot change the past and mourning for what I never had is pointless. Still I cried the rest of the day, just writing about it now has tears rolling down my face.
Then there are days like Saturday. I was walking the dog when a message came through on FB. It was from someone who I know, who was friends with Tall when he was in hospital back in 2010. "Is he still with us?" Tears from me, then anger, then the sarcastic reply. "No. I'd have imagined you'd have known that if you had looked at his FB page!"
Enough said?
Good days, bad days. Days when his name and his photograph make me smile. Days when if I so much as catch a glimpse of his photo on the fridge I'm done for. There is comfort in the tears, for I fear when I don't cry that people will think I didn't care.
- get fit and feel healthier
- lose weight
- prepare for a race or charity event
- challenge myself and run regularly
- improve my health condition
- another reason
Friday 13th started out so well. Despite it being the four month-versary I started the day positively. Mid morning I had a message from my son's girlfriend saying my son had decided to drive straight up here after his night shift Christmas Day and they would be having dinner with me. I was so excited and pleased that I started to sort out the cabinets in the dining room, they are stuffed with things, some of which need to go. The table was soon full so I decided to empty one of the crates that Tall had brought with him fourteen years ago. At the bottom was a photograph in a frame. The glass had broken and underneath was Tall, him in his suit at his first wedding, forty-four years ago. My heart broke. Grief for his loss four months ago and grief for the years I never had. Grief that our paths hadn't crossed years ago. I quickly realised that I cannot change the past and mourning for what I never had is pointless. Still I cried the rest of the day, just writing about it now has tears rolling down my face.
Then there are days like Saturday. I was walking the dog when a message came through on FB. It was from someone who I know, who was friends with Tall when he was in hospital back in 2010. "Is he still with us?" Tears from me, then anger, then the sarcastic reply. "No. I'd have imagined you'd have known that if you had looked at his FB page!"
Enough said?
Good days, bad days. Days when his name and his photograph make me smile. Days when if I so much as catch a glimpse of his photo on the fridge I'm done for. There is comfort in the tears, for I fear when I don't cry that people will think I didn't care.
Monday 9 September 2019
After the storm.
I'm sure all of you are getting fed up of the cliches and analogies, but sometimes they seem to be the only way to express how I feel.
Life has been happening around me, on the whole I have been bobbing about on the tide, still out at sea, but content that I'm not currently drowning. Yesterday afternoon I received a phone call from Bernard, Paula's husband. I have to confess that he has tried to call several times before since Mike died, and I have never been able to answer. Yesterday I did. The call went okay, a few tears from me, so I asked Bernard to talk about Buddy the dog for a bit. Yes dear old Buddy is still around, he's eleven now, just like Toni. Bernard talked at me for about fifteen minutes. He said how he still missed Paula seven years on, how his family had said he needed to start seeing other women, and how so far he hadn't actually been on any dates (he joined in January) as none of the ladies came up to Paula's standard. He told me he hasn't been on holiday since Paula died, there's not point wasting money he might just as well stay at home. I was clear to me after that fifteen minute call that he is lonely.
After we had said our goodbyes the calmness slowly turned to a storm. I could feel it coming, the grief for both Mike and Paula welled up inside me. The tears began to flow and I was still crying when I went to bed. I desperately wanted Mike to be there to give me a hug, to ease the pain of Paula's loss, and I wanted to be able to talk to Paula about how to cope with Mike's loss.
This morning I am exhausted. I slept perfectly well, it is just the after effects of the storm. I am emotionally drained.
Life has been happening around me, on the whole I have been bobbing about on the tide, still out at sea, but content that I'm not currently drowning. Yesterday afternoon I received a phone call from Bernard, Paula's husband. I have to confess that he has tried to call several times before since Mike died, and I have never been able to answer. Yesterday I did. The call went okay, a few tears from me, so I asked Bernard to talk about Buddy the dog for a bit. Yes dear old Buddy is still around, he's eleven now, just like Toni. Bernard talked at me for about fifteen minutes. He said how he still missed Paula seven years on, how his family had said he needed to start seeing other women, and how so far he hadn't actually been on any dates (he joined in January) as none of the ladies came up to Paula's standard. He told me he hasn't been on holiday since Paula died, there's not point wasting money he might just as well stay at home. I was clear to me after that fifteen minute call that he is lonely.
After we had said our goodbyes the calmness slowly turned to a storm. I could feel it coming, the grief for both Mike and Paula welled up inside me. The tears began to flow and I was still crying when I went to bed. I desperately wanted Mike to be there to give me a hug, to ease the pain of Paula's loss, and I wanted to be able to talk to Paula about how to cope with Mike's loss.
This morning I am exhausted. I slept perfectly well, it is just the after effects of the storm. I am emotionally drained.
Thursday 5 September 2019
Big bad world.
At the risk of sounding a tad pathetic, I am currently struggling with the big, bad world outside my four walls. The whole political scene scares me, so much so that I have been putting my head in the sand. I feel so powerless and I certainly am not up to a "discussion" with those who think it is all going to be okay.
It isn't just Brexit though. I find I struggle with lots of the things not in my comfort zone. I can shop for food and alcohol. I can shop online for a mattress, as I know which one to buy, Mike told me. I can just about manage to buy new shoes for myself. But, when it comes to less run of the mill purchases like a new laptop, I am paralysed. Now, I hear you all say, "ask for advice in the shop." I can't, I am ashamed to say I don't trust what they might have to say. Generally speaking there is only one shop and that monopoly makes me nervous. It isn't like buying a car, half a dozen brands being sold independently, each salesman saying theirs is the best. A pile of brochures and a nice cuppa at home to weigh it all up. Trying to wade through specs online has my head in a spin and in the shop they are trying to sell you the one they have been told to push, the one that might possibly be an end off line or soon to be last year's model. I know when Mike was alive we would probably have been hoodwinked together, and that's the point, a mistake we both made was one we could cuss about and then laugh about. A mistake made alone is one that I know will become a stick to beat myself with. I still have quite a lot of work to do on my mental health.
So for now I will struggle on with my tired old one. The fan has gone and it has a habit of overheating, crashing as it's poor memory cannot cope. I have named it Lorna. :)
It isn't just Brexit though. I find I struggle with lots of the things not in my comfort zone. I can shop for food and alcohol. I can shop online for a mattress, as I know which one to buy, Mike told me. I can just about manage to buy new shoes for myself. But, when it comes to less run of the mill purchases like a new laptop, I am paralysed. Now, I hear you all say, "ask for advice in the shop." I can't, I am ashamed to say I don't trust what they might have to say. Generally speaking there is only one shop and that monopoly makes me nervous. It isn't like buying a car, half a dozen brands being sold independently, each salesman saying theirs is the best. A pile of brochures and a nice cuppa at home to weigh it all up. Trying to wade through specs online has my head in a spin and in the shop they are trying to sell you the one they have been told to push, the one that might possibly be an end off line or soon to be last year's model. I know when Mike was alive we would probably have been hoodwinked together, and that's the point, a mistake we both made was one we could cuss about and then laugh about. A mistake made alone is one that I know will become a stick to beat myself with. I still have quite a lot of work to do on my mental health.
So for now I will struggle on with my tired old one. The fan has gone and it has a habit of overheating, crashing as it's poor memory cannot cope. I have named it Lorna. :)
Sunday 1 September 2019
I want to be Taz
Don't tell me you don't know who he is! Okay I guess younger readers, if I have any, won't know. Cartoon Tasmanian devil who has anger management issues, yet we all love him.
As my limited audience is made up of people from FB, you will all already know that yesterday wasn't a good day. I was actually just another bad day in a week of not too good days where I have been missing Mike's presence very badly. I have woken up and immediately wished he was next to me. I tried to express, clumsily that I was feeling lonely on FB and the usual friends came along and simply said they were thinking of me or sending a virtual hug. That was okay, I know I wouldn't know what to say either. Then came "friends" who thought some advice was needed. I politely said thank you to everyone and expressed that their kind remarks wouldn't hold me when I had nightmares or make me a coffee first thing. I thought that would stop them in their tracks, that they would understand. Hell no! I cannot remember the exact words, but a reply came that with time I would be able to make my own coffee (excuse me, but I already can) and that hopefully the nightmares would stop (over my dead body?). Why don't you get out those four walls, get a job, go on a college course? What if I did? Would that give me someone to hold me in bed at night? Would that fill the gaping Mike sized hole? Such stupid remarks when I had clearly said what it was I was lonely about.
The cherry on the cake was someone lamenting the loss of their dog who had died aged three. Lots of her friends saying how sorry they were. How they knew how she felt, they missed their dogs too. Someone asked what had happened, she quickly responded that she was too upset to talk about it but Doodah would fill them in (Doodah being the husband). That one remark sums it up, I have no Doodah, no one to turn to when something happens, whether it be minor or major. That is why the loss of a soulmate is so much worse than losing anyone else, there is no one to turn to for comfort or advice.
You see I am a Taz. I am so angry with the world and the stupid things people say. I want to tear the place up, it isn't fair. I am angry with myself for not being able to make him better. I know deep down that as I don't have godly powers there was nothing I could do, but if only I had been more insistent about him not having the second SCT his lungs wouldn't have been damaged and his last two years wouldn't have been so miserable. I know in reality that he probably wouldn't have lived the two years without the SCT, but grief doesn't necessarily compute logically. I'm angry that others still live, bad people who should have taken Mike's place. Again I know I don't have godly powers, the right to say who should or shouldn't live, but I bet I'm not the first or last person to feel this way.
I could rant on for hours. Feel free to join in.
As my limited audience is made up of people from FB, you will all already know that yesterday wasn't a good day. I was actually just another bad day in a week of not too good days where I have been missing Mike's presence very badly. I have woken up and immediately wished he was next to me. I tried to express, clumsily that I was feeling lonely on FB and the usual friends came along and simply said they were thinking of me or sending a virtual hug. That was okay, I know I wouldn't know what to say either. Then came "friends" who thought some advice was needed. I politely said thank you to everyone and expressed that their kind remarks wouldn't hold me when I had nightmares or make me a coffee first thing. I thought that would stop them in their tracks, that they would understand. Hell no! I cannot remember the exact words, but a reply came that with time I would be able to make my own coffee (excuse me, but I already can) and that hopefully the nightmares would stop (over my dead body?). Why don't you get out those four walls, get a job, go on a college course? What if I did? Would that give me someone to hold me in bed at night? Would that fill the gaping Mike sized hole? Such stupid remarks when I had clearly said what it was I was lonely about.
The cherry on the cake was someone lamenting the loss of their dog who had died aged three. Lots of her friends saying how sorry they were. How they knew how she felt, they missed their dogs too. Someone asked what had happened, she quickly responded that she was too upset to talk about it but Doodah would fill them in (Doodah being the husband). That one remark sums it up, I have no Doodah, no one to turn to when something happens, whether it be minor or major. That is why the loss of a soulmate is so much worse than losing anyone else, there is no one to turn to for comfort or advice.
You see I am a Taz. I am so angry with the world and the stupid things people say. I want to tear the place up, it isn't fair. I am angry with myself for not being able to make him better. I know deep down that as I don't have godly powers there was nothing I could do, but if only I had been more insistent about him not having the second SCT his lungs wouldn't have been damaged and his last two years wouldn't have been so miserable. I know in reality that he probably wouldn't have lived the two years without the SCT, but grief doesn't necessarily compute logically. I'm angry that others still live, bad people who should have taken Mike's place. Again I know I don't have godly powers, the right to say who should or shouldn't live, but I bet I'm not the first or last person to feel this way.
I could rant on for hours. Feel free to join in.
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