If I keep my head down, it’s either because I’ve nothing good to say or because i’ve gone to bed early. I’m finding life quite difficult at present. I haven’t opened much post, nor emails, for the last week or two, unless it’s been a bill, which I pay promptly, or a personal message – though personal emails are rare nowadays, we mostly communicate through WhatsApp or something similar, nowadays…having said that, I’m reading and not replying to emails.
In short, I’m really struggling. I’m grieving hopelessly for both Tim and Russell and it’s hard to bear. Most people wouldn’t know that, I’m outwardly cheerful and calm. But I’m not really. This is very hard and all the tricks I use to keep my spirits up are superficial.
I used to hide things and I don’t now. So I’m just saying. I’ll come through the other side and I really must start opening the post tomorrow.
Wink has anxieties too, because she has various eye problems. None of them imminently dreadful, maybe they won’t be at all and she can still drive, but it’s a worry and we’re propping each other up at the Zedery.
Darling daughter is putting her London Ways to good effect this week on my behalf. Dearest sons are supportive and helpful too. I’m soldiering on, so is Wink, I’ll gloss over this tomorrow and all will be well.
Good things.
Cleaners came today (I absent-mindedly locked them in, much hilarity ensued, but luckily they found another key). So lovely fresh sheets on the bed and a sparkling kitchen.
I bought a tuna steak from Paul the Fish. Far too big, so I cut a bit off and seared it, to eat with a bean salad I made the other day. Easy, delicious dinner.
We met Ro and the children in Norwich and they are all adorable. I’m lucky. I love and I’m loved.
Darling Daughter, as I said. Thank you, Weeza.
John Greenwood phoned last night, because he discerned I needed a friendly voice to talk to. Thank you, Publog John (not that he’s blogged for ages, dammit).
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And, apologies, I’m being self-indulgent. I feel sorry for myself at present. I’m trying hard to get past this glitch.
A glitsch is a bit like a ditch. Sometimes, we scramble out, unhurt but for muddy clout. And sometimes we need to shout, hoping someone’s about to hear. Or at least help us out with a rhyme. Or a lis’ning ear. (I’m not Mr. Lear!)
That said, I do understand and would pop in if I could. But it’s tough commute and I’m still waiting to hear from NZ. A lot of the people I know will have lost all power.
But I’ll have some bubbles for you later. ((Z))
Thanks, Di. I was just reading about NZ, it sounds pretty nasty. I’ve got friends in Auckland, my weather app says laconically that it’s “windy” there, which I guess is a considerable understatement.
I’ll say! Where in Auckland are your friends?
Devonport, two of them. Haven’t got the others’ address.
Well, by now the worst is over. And, Devonport being a Navy base, should be ok. But it’s been a rough time for everyone.
Bro-in-law and his families are south of Auckland and are OK. But the big issue is that NZ , while well -used to storms, has only experienced 2 cyclones. They will bounce back.Like the ladies Rugby team https://wwos.nine.com.au/videos/rugby/kiwi-cult-hero-ruby-tui-leads-the-crowd-into-singing-tutira-mai-nga-iwi-at-eden-park
I’ll email them and check on them. I’m afraid the link doesn’t work any more, the video has been removed apparently.
No harm in a pity party. You feel as you feel – it’s good to seek support.
Sx
Z, this is not at all surprising, especially in bloody February, the worst part of the winter. Personally I think your grief is so huge because your losses were so huge, because you had two unusually intense and sustained relationships.
You might find some comfort in a podcast called Griefcast (it’s NOT depressing) hosted by Cariad Lloyd. Also she’s just brought out a book about the whole thing, called You Are Not Alone, which I haven’t read yet, but am planning to. Her basic message is that grief is much messier than we’ve all been led to expect, and you are not doing it wrong. (Sorry, you might be fully aware of this already.)
I agree totally with Mary’s first paragraph.
It’s good that you are able to acknowledge how you are feeling and talk about it. “Better out than in!” as they say. You are one of life’s ‘copers’ and perhaps you ‘coped’ rather too well, in both cases, initially?
Thinking of you and sending good wishes for easier days ahead.
Grief follows its own rules. It comes and bites you, stays as long as it wants, and then buggers off into the sunset, slowly. Don’t fight it, you have no chance. There are times when one does not want to speak / write / etc., even hear, forget listen. It changes, usually. Alternative is chartreuse.