Broadstairs
I'm boring myself now, which is probably a good thing.
But for 18 weeks now I have cried every single day.
It's not a melodramatic cry. I'm no Scarlett O'Hara
But it is more like a daily "
welling up" a rush of emotions that occurs when a particular piece of music is played , a certain scene pops up in a movie or a certain advert dives under your emotional radar.
I am fed up of trying to shake away blurred vision, a blotchy face and that
here we go again exasperation bereavement plonks on you out of the blue.
It's a bastard .....bereavement .
I
know all this, Indeed I pride myself on my emotional intelligence, but 18 weeks isn't a long time in the great scheme of things to realise that your husband has chosen a life which is now different to the one you previously knew and that he has gone alongside with shared way of life , family and home.
Intellectually the blocks are in all of the right holes .
Emotionally my head is at times like spaghetti.
Yet I
know what to do
Keep busy, get a job, sort out the practical things,
Enjoy friends, keep busy, try to roll with punches,
Keep busy, let things go, remember the good, keep busy,
Be pragmatic, let go of anger, keep busy....
It's just the
doing which is sometime hard.
So this is my
cathartic post, a bit like yesterday's but with a little more honesty.
Real life is more less exhausting than this necessary emotional romp of grief, and that is what I have to get back to.
My husband is no monster here, I would never of married him if he was a monster.
Mary has to be picked up from the groomers at 11 am and I've got some shopping to do before I ve got to help a colleague at Sams complete some interviews for new volunteers.
The village community Association is holding a
treasure hunt this afternoon which I may go to if I can conscript a co pilot and I have got to see Flower Show Ann regarding our zip wire day, which we will be doing for charity ( coughs into hand which I expect every reader to donate on line to! )
Ann has warmed me that the " heavier" participants on the zip wire have a small parachute attached to them in order to slight slow their decent down.......
I know I am going to resemble one of those refugee food drops in Africa where the tons of supplies are crash landed into the jungle !
I may go to the cinema later today, William is doing mighty fine , so doesn't need watching too much.
Onwards and upwards, so they say....
I'm not promising myself or you, that this will be my last emotional romp in blogland
After all Birony was right when she quoted
"
“When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions”
But it will the last for now....