Grief

Grief is a funny thing, it sneaks up on you when you least expect it and changes everything in the blink of an eye. This weekend I experienced just that, Saturday had been a lovely day, spent exploring the local seaside with friends, dinner and a few glasses of wine, then I had the sudden realisation that it was a friends birthday, a friend who has cut me out of her life. In the blink of an eye I had gone from having lots of fun to being unable to stop the tears from falling, I can't tell you why I was upset because I really don't know, but I do know that the pain I felt at that moment in time was very real, I struggled to breathe, my legs gave way and I was incapable of forming complete sentences.

I don't have a lot of experience with grief and for that I am grateful, however at the minute I am overwhelmed by loneliness and crippled with insecurity. Saturday was just another harsh realisation of how vulnerable I am feeling at the minute.

Loneliness

The past few days have been exceptionally hard, I have done everything possible to try and keep myself entertained - the house is sparkling, the washing basket is empty and i've baked more than I ever thought possible, but that doesn't stop the overwhelming feeling of loneliness which consumes me come evening. I am lucky that I love my own company over the past few weeks I have read books, figured out ideas for Christmas presents, organised the kitchen cupboards and cancelled outstanding subscriptions, all this has been done which means that come sun set I have nothing to do at all, there is only so much medial television a girl can watch before she goes stir crazy! 

I'm lucky that I am able to speak to Stuart every evening, thanks to the joys of FaceTime, and I know that there are many many people in the world who don't have that luxury, speaking however doesn't fill the gap that is getting bigger and bigger. There is no one here when I got home late at night, if I want dinner I have to make sure it is all prepared before leaving for work and then heat it all up when I get home, there is no one here to make sure that the neighbourhood cats aren't successful in their attempts to break into the house (!!) and there is no one here to fill the endless silence with talk.

The most surprising thing I have found is that the people who I thought were friends apparently aren't. Stuart has been away for 4 weeks, yet the people I thought were my closest friends have yet to text me, are yet to call and make sure I am ok and seem to be ignoring messages until such time I can do something to help them. Then there are the friends who have been a part of my life for a long time but who have always been on the peripheral, these are the friends that I will forever be externally grateful for  - they've texted, called, arranged nights out and have generally been a shoulder to cry/shout/talk on.

Whilst I don't want to indulge these feelings sometimes it is hard to not be totally overwhelmed by them. Yesterday for example I left the house at 11.30 and didn't get home until close to midnight, the house was cold, empty and dark, all I wanted to do was flop into bed and go to sleep before repeating it all again, however there was food to be prepared and a house to be tidied before bed was a remote possibility.

I realise that I am probably going through a period of adapting I am used to Stuart being in the house and making noise, I am sure that in a few more weeks I will be more settled into a routine which doesn't leave the evenings achingly bare, until then I will always be grateful for my friends who have made the effort and those people on twitter who have kept me entertained. Until then I always have this little man to keep me company on a cold, dark, wet evening:

Listening to - The rain.

Feeling - Sleepy, we had a huge storm last night which stopped me from sleeping.

To do - Relearn the dance for the tapathon - 3 weeks later and i've completely forgotten it!