Wed 4th October
I can’t be bothered
I can’t bring myself to attend the ‘Nurturing Course for Parents of Children with Autism’. Firstly I haven’t done my homework, which is to create a list of family rules, rewards and penalties, and secondly, I’m just not up for it.
I feel tired, drained, enervated and I dreamed of Kevin all through the night.
I kept waking up as if from a bad dream, not wanting to allow myself back to sleep again, hearing sounds, imagining he was walking down the passage. Perhaps he was.
This old phone I am using is full of memories. We discovered a load of photos from my eldest’s birthday party,
which was only thirteen days before Kevin died.
Thirteen days! It’s still so very difficult to comprehend – all the pictures were of a happy joyous, very active birthday in the park, at the height of Summer; playing rounders, chasing the dog who kept running away with the ball, chasing and tackling each other (the grass was very soft), attacking a piñata, hide and seek.
And Kevin was well, running about, being the life and soul and party entertainer.
I still don’t understand.
Still trying to get my head around the workings of this practically vintage piece of equipment, I discovered all the texts to my daughter on that fate filled day, thirteen days later when we made our big trip into town, leaving Kevin resting in bed; when my daughter got on the bus and we followed her in and I was trying to keep us out as long as possible to give him some quiet time.
And all that time, he was alone, and dying…
So I dreamed of him through the night, he was a little sad. I awoke feeling his echo, he must have visited in the night in that space between dreaming and awakeness.
Wed 11th October
Today I did attend the ‘Nurturing Course for Children with Autism’, and I was quite well behaved; they’ve finally got to the part that is at least vaguely relevant to our situation. Mostly I was just trying not to break into tears.
Yesterday I spent the whole day in tears. Floods. I’ve reached another well of sadness and its not stopping, the slightest thing is triggering me.
As soon as I get a quiet moment they start up like a tap that won’t tighten. It’s a strange kind of sadness, triggered by words, a phrase, but I can’t ascribe an emotion to it, only that it’s like a big lake deep down in my being. The phrase that set me off was on Radio 4, a discussion about Mental Health Awareness Day.
It happens quite a lot; just a simple phrase that catches me in the back of my throat and I feel constricted and I can’t breathe.
But this time there was no constriction, just floods.
I was driving to meet my lover for our own ‘chat’, summoned by me. It’s been keeping me awake, discomforted by words unsaid, things just aren’t quite right.
I have too many variables in my life, too many x’s and y’s, the potential permutations are driving me mad.
I feel like I’m on the edge, I’m not coping; I’m not comfortable, considering pharmaceutical intervention.
He knew something was going down; waiting for our ‘chat’, a storm on his face, nicotine on his breath, he wouldn’t make eye contact.
I was broken, the tears continued, a constant stream. We tried to part, he’s been keeping things from me, overwhelmed by his own troubles, didn’t want to make me unhappy.
I knew it! I had sensed all of this and filled in my own story line to compensate. But I don’t feel ready to part ways and the thought of it is forcing me deep into my pool of sadness, a place of no name.
I think we’re okay now. There are no resolutions to our situation; we’ll have to make it up. I don’t feel that this is our time to part company, the thought of it is reducing me to tears, breaking me. There is so much pain and hardship in the world, especially now, and we all need to be working together and supporting each other. Transparency and honesty is the best way forward. Together not apart, team building not lone working, finding the natural way, being like water.
The floods of tears will form a stream and find the path of least resistance to reach the required destination.
I’ll go with that. In the mean time I feel cleansed, I needed a good cry and I feel at peace. Things are alright, for now.
Friday 20th October 2017
It must be a Friday thing. Well, it’s becoming a Friday thing. I’m so sad. Dread usurps me.
Fridays are hard. I lead the bereavement support gardening group, which, beautiful and positive as it is, I find heart searingly difficult, challenging, and completely raw. Every person attending has either experienced extreme loss, or is in the grips of a life threatening condition. And they’ve learnt to be positive and appreciate every small moment that life and living offers. I love and appreciate this but I always leave feeling completely shattered.
Fridays were our good days. Our family Film Nights, our Chicken (and chips) -in-a-basket-nights. Well ‘Chicken-in-a-basket’ was our family tradition, but we stretched it, to ‘fish (and chips) -in-a-basket’, when we were all pescatarian, eventually ‘to without the chicken or the fish’, or ‘the basket’, but the idea of ‘chicken-in-a-basket’ night, aka Family Night in With Film still remains as the general concept that we adhere to.
Although in the Summer (I can’t watch television if the sun is shining), when the family had settled in, I’d slip out to play a game of Friday evening tennis, and Kevin and the girls would have a wonderful night in.
Fridays are becoming very tricky for me. I am increasingly finding it difficult to be jolly and positive and produce happy Friday meals. To be honest I completely and utterly dread it. I can’t produce a happy meal to please everyone. There are constant arguments over choice of film – and apparently I always fall asleep and ruin everything.
Today my daughter won an award at school, the Head of Year Award, nominated by the Head of Year, for effort, strength of character and just generally trying hard. I am so proud of her. She hasn’t come home tonight and it is just me and my ever so angry youngest. I’ve been in trouble for everything tonight, for swearing (at a bad driver), for producing bad food, for not enough pocket money, for painting her bedroom. I can’t do anything right.
She went to her bed, and I just fell apart. I nose dived, crashed, couldn’t stop crying, convulsing, wailing, for hours.
My face swelled up so that I could hardly see, I couldn’t even walk straight, my vision and my balance bent and swelled.
That was a big one, hopefully it starts getting better now.