Warning Signs

There’s no warning signs with grief. It’s not like being sick… you know, you feel queasy and then your mouth fills with water… all the cues to run to a toilet or sink ASAP. Grief doesn’t do that. It just smacks you round the face because it feels like it. No warning to run and hide, no time to grab a tissue, just bam! I’m on a long coach journey to see Friend AI for the weekend. Before I knew what was happening, bam! Snotty tears had started. On the coach. With strangers. Thankfully most seem to be asleep so I might have gotten away with it.

It’s a bit like depression to be honest. There are some days when I wake up and I’m inexplicably unable to function. I need to roll over and hide. Other days, I feel like I could tackle most things that need doing. If I could work out a way to plan the shitty days, it would be far more convenient. I’d try and coincide depression days with grief days so at least I can hide from the world and allow the snotty tears to flow freely. If I discover a magic way of colour coding this into my meticulously planned calendar, I’ll let you know!

I miss being mad at Father. I’m not sure if that makes sense but it was easy to be mad at him. There was proof he’d been an idiot on more than one occasion and being mad at him allowed me to have feelings for him. Now I can’t be mad at him. How do you stay mad at someone who is now nothing more than a box of ashes. A portion of which Sister and I are being denied any access too. I want to be mad at the situation he’s left Sister and I in. I’m mad that my insecurities are running away with themselves and I feel like an afterthought to him. Right now there is no way to prove if I really was an afterthought to him so my head can continue to bully me.

To make sure I keep the title ‘bonkers’, I’ve become incessantly worried Mum is going to die. I mean, of course she will, at some point. She’s 70, she’s closer to death than birth. I just don’t know I can feel this again. Not anytime soon anyway. Sister’s pregnancy has spurred her on to finally retire and it’s a reason to get fit. I just hope it’s enough to keep her going. I can’t face being an adult orphan. I know it’ll happen but I’m not ready anytime soon. Who will I call when I can’t work out where to put the rinse aid (true story… it’s only taken me 7 years of home ownership to realise one needs to put rinse aid in the dishwasher)? Who will call me for the 100th time to ask how to turn on airplane mode on her phone? Or how to turn the printer on? I’m over thinking it, I know, I can’t help it though.

I’m still horse riding and loving it more each time. I’m still trying to do more outside the flat than inside the flat but it’s not always going to plan. Self-care can either be on point or so far off the point, the point isn’t even visible anymore. I’ve been trying to limit friend exposure as I’m very aware that right now, all I want to do is rant about death, Father and my inability to accept the family politics. I’m conscious that makes me a very boring friend and probably quite a shit friend too, I can’t help it though. I can’t get it off my mind. I know, at some point it won’t be my only focus, day in day out, but a bit like the grief tears, I’d love some heads up as to when that’ll be!

Looking back, I can see I’ve come a really long way, it’s hard to realise there is still a way to go before I’m truly ok with who I am and how that fits with the world. I still want to compare myself to others, which is ultimately the biggest downfall for me. The anxiety is still there but it bubbles along just under the surface. I feel it’s under control and, at times it seems to grow a bit too big, I can sense it and normally get myself out of the situation (aka leave early!). Now I just need to keep working on getting myself to a fitter place, physically and mentally! I’m 19 days binge free which seems like a good place to start.

For no real reason other than it’s my cat, here’s Cat P looking thoroughly evil!

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