I’m writing this from my living room floor, sitting in front of an empty plate after consuming four slices of marmite on toast and two cups of tea. It’s made me feel better, but I’m still hungover.
I went out with a friend last night and drank too much. I very rarely drink anymore, and when I do, it’s never with the intention of getting drunk. It’s more just to have a bit of a laugh and be sociable, I always stop when I’ve had enough. Last night I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to forget everything for a while.
I’ve been feeling quite overwhelmed the last few weeks. Like most of us, I seem to rush through my days at the speed of light from one obligation to another without having the opportunity to enjoy any of it. I talked about it with my counsellor and she suggested that perhaps I could make less plans some days to give myself room to breathe. It made perfect sense, but at the same time the idea of having time on my hands made me extremely anxious, and I didn’t know why.
Usually on a Sunday when I don’t have Paige I get up early, go to the gym, meet some friends for lunch, do a big shop and pop to see my mum and dad before Paige comes home. I literally go from one thing to the next with no gaps, or ‘dead time’ in between. To put the advice I was given into practise, I planned to be planless for this entire Sunday. I imagined I would sleep in, have a leisurely breakfast and maybe laze around and watch some episodes of Catastrophe. I thought I might have a nice bath, and it would be a lovely, rejuvenating day.
But I’m just sitting here, with all this time to think. And I realise how much I miss my baby when she’s not with me. I crave her so badly that I can’t concentrate on anything else. I’ve done my washing up. I’ve opened her curtains where I closed them for her last night, even though she wasn’t here. I’ve folded her blankets and I’ve put her clothes away. I know she’s coming back to me soon, but the fact that she cant be with me and all I want to do is spend my time with her is something I can’t get used to. I don’t know if I ever will.
I feel like it is the harshest punishment, and I did nothing wrong. I’m innocent. I don’t deserve to be punished. I know that every one of you will have felt this way at some point in your lives, because life isn’t always fair, and we have to learn to deal with whatever is thrown our way. So I make plans upon plans upon plans so that I don’t ever have to sit here like this, alone and vulnerable, with an aching heart.
My dream was to spend Sundays as a family. That’s what I wanted, but I can’t have it and I need to accept it. I haven’t really allowed myself enough time to delve into the pain of what I’ve lost, such is the pressure to stitch your wounds up and soldier on. There’s an appropriate timeframe for getting over something, or someone, and once it elapses you have to do the rest of your grieving in private. So to avoid the awkward moments when I feel an overspill of emotion surging forward, I’ve attempted to squash it down by making my life so busy that I dont have any time to feel.
I’m starting to realise, here on my living room rug, that maybe this technique I’ve unknowingly invented isn’t helping me. All I’m doing is running myself into the ground, and to tell you the truth, I’m shattered. I’ve exhausted myself trying to block out how I’m still feeling because surely I should be all better by now? I want to be. I’m doing everything in my power to force myself to be. And one day I’ll get there, I know I will. But today, it still hurts. And I miss my little girl.
I know I wrote about being grateful, and I truly believe it’s the best way to live. To be positive, and realise that we are fortunate to even be alive today. I will bounce back from this lonely living room floor moment and change my mindset, because I don’t want to spend my life dwelling on things I can’t change. But I think that every now and then we need to press pause, and allow ourselves to feel what we feel deep down. You need to be in touch with what’s really going on inside, otherwise you become completely disconnected from yourself. Instead of admitting that my heart is still a bit broken, I’ve become anxious and tearful about every other little thing without knowing why I feel this way.
Yes, it’s now over the allocated timeframe for being sad about something that happened last year. Yes, I should probably be over it by now. Yes, I do know that I have a lot to be thankful for and yes, I know that nobody likes a Debbie Downer. But maybe it’s ok that I’m not all better yet.
Getting drunk, making far too many plans and ignoring myself is never going to get me where I want to be. I need to man up and face my feelings head on, and if that means I have the occasional ‘Sad Sunday’ where I have three sugars in my tea and a bit of a cry in the bath then so be it.
I feel better already 🙂