Grief is a funny thing. It plays tricks on your mind, makes you think you’re doing better than you are. Then suddenly, you walk into a brick wall. You don’t notice it. It creeps up on you. Like the car you don’t notice pulling out in front of you, the rain that pours over you when you’re waiting for a train and everyone else is under cover. It’s not even been a month and I feel my mothers absence in a raw, unnerving way that I feel like someones kicked me in the gut and ripped out my lungs every day.
I wake up after dreaming of her, hoping it will be true and she’s still really here. Then the crushing reality sets in and I want to be sick. That’s how I feel all the time. I just want to rid my whole body of everything. I can’t eat. Eating makes it worse. I only eat because I have to. Then the nausea starts. Then the sleep.
Sleep comes and goes. My family have tried to get me out everyday, keep me busy. But I’m out of strength now. I’m exhausted. It’s exhausting trying to smile while you’re holding back from crumbling. People tell me to give it time and it’s all I can do.
I’m in no rush to clear out her belongings. Every item I’ve picked up reminds me she’s not coming back. The jumper she wore when she was brought into hospital. The pyjamas she wore before she was too ill to get dressed properly. The dresses she loved to wear when she was well enough to go out. I don’t want to look at because it reminds me she’s gone but I don’t want to part with it because I feel like she thinks I’m going to forget all about her.
I wish there was a handbook. You can get books on parenting, when life is bought into this world but no guide to death, when a life ceases. I need a timeline with a guide to tell me how to grieve and how long it will take. When is the right time to do this, do that. How to deal with all the paperwork that death brings. How to sort out all the clothes that still hang in her wardrobe. Her shoes that she’ll never wear again. I can’t deal with it with right now. I don’t know when or if I’ll ever deal with it.
All I do know, is I’m hurting. I tried to pretend to someone who barely knows me that I’m all good and cheery and then when it comes down to it, I’m a mess and now he’s avoiding me like the plague. It’s hard enough grieving for my mum, now I have to admit to another failed relationship because my grief made me paranoid. What a fucking mess I am.
Grief. It hurts. It doesn’t have a timeframe and there’s not really much that can take away the pain. Depression, my old foe, welcome back…
@specksgurl
tetheredinthedeepend 