Posts
It’s been
a weird few weeks. I spent one week completely unmotivated, exhausted, listless
and numb. The next I was manic, filled with nervous energy which, unchanneled,
came out in erratic (mad) behaviour. I have very little appetite and my old
friend insomnia has decided to visit for an indeterminate length of time. My
co-workers suspect me of being in love.
I knew the
first anniversary of my sister’s death was coming up, and that it was going to
be a very emotional time for my nieces, nephew, brother-in-law, mother and
brother. Notice anyone missing from that list? As I learned last year, when my
sister was in her last days of life, my method of coping with stress is being
useful to others. This isn’t a boast in any way. Quite the opposite. I used caring
for others to keep busy, to avoid dealing with my own grief. It’s pretty messed
up, as far as motivations go.
To compound
the issue, a person very close to me was hospitalized suddenly and there was
not a thing I could do to help or be useful to their family in anyway. In fact,
I was very conscious of not pestering them while they dealt with their own
fears.
A year
later, the grieving process still not worked through, and I don’t have anyone
to be of use to – not for lack of trying; I offered to knit socks for a stranger
(I mentioned mad behaviour, right?)! I am sitting down to write. Something I’ve
been neglecting. Six times today I attempted to post something to social media
and deleted each one. Am I being self indulgent? Will people think I am looking
for pity? It’s Father’s Day, let people enjoy their day without bringing them
down with your own shit.
So, here I
am, shouting (or typing, rather) into the abyss, trying to explain that a simple
question like, “do you have any brothers or sisters?” is impossibly difficult
for me. Too many thoughts are intruding on each other, making it hard to
communicate what I am trying to say. Not expressing the pain, and anger, fear and
helplessness is making me strange. Father’s Day is a trigger now. I hate June.
Fuck Cancer. See you next year. Unless one of you needs a pair of socks…
