This morning, on the way to walk, I saw my handsome Husband....or at least I thought I did.
It would not be melodramatic for me to say that I nearly crashed!!!!!
I was cycling to work, as one does, when I saw him waiting at the bus stop.
There he was in all his finest.
The mauve gingham shirt I love him in (it was THE shirt!).
The chinos.
The cute bum.
The salt and pepper hair thinning on top.
And then, 'Hubby' turned around.
FUCKING GUTTED!!!
It wasn't him.
I couldn't believe it.
I could have sobbed right there on the road in front of the fellow commuters waiting for the Number 63.
But no, I got back in the saddle and I carried on to work - my stomach, head and broken heart filled with confusion, emotion and most of all, overwhelming, aching grief.
Crying whilst cycling is dangerous kids, do not try it!!!
I'm not ashamed to say that when I met John I wasn't in a good place, mentally.
I'd not long come out of a violent relationship with a man I lovingly refer to as 'the cunt" (sorry Mum!).
I was all over the place and John, being John, slowly but surely brought me back.
He was there, he was always there.
He grounded me, he helped me find me again.
When I met him I was really confused.
I was paranoid.
I was insecure.
I was full to the brim of low self esteem.
All these 'mental issues' have returned since he departed this life.
All of them.
I am not in a good place at all.
'Me' is lost and I cannot find him.
I, stupidly, sent a text to a very lovely friend today, a friend who came to see me one evening this week. This friend has been there for me for about the past 9 years AND through all this shite, never questioning, just doing what I needed, because she's so frigging wonderful!
The text was full of paranoia, full of me being fucking stupid.
I wasn't horrid or nasty, I was just being insecure.
It was unnecessary!
Why I sent it I don't know but I was convinced that something was wrong, things were not right and I needed to make sure everything was alright.
Being the star she is, she ignored it and reassured me.
I feel like this 42 year old has regressed back to the immature, scared, insecure 20 or 30 something I once was.
This is totally because John isn't here.
The 'voices' are soooooo loud, some days I cannot hear my own thoughts.
The demons are gathering and they're tearing my mind apart, feasting on my fucked up thoughts.
I don't know how to stop them anymore.
John did.
I had a motto when I first met John - 'Fake it until you make it'.
I feel like my current life is all 'fake'.
People come over to see me and I smile, laugh and nod in all the right places, but it doesn't mean diddly squat really.
I go out and I do all the right things, say all the right things, be the person people want me to be.
I'm not really there I'm afraid (sorry).
I'm off thinking about John.
Where is he?
Why isn't he here?
Why did he die?
When is he coming home?
Why am I alone?
Why did this happen to us?
Do I have to be at home on my own?
Today was a bloody shit day.
I struggled mentally to hold it together.
It got worse as the day went on - I know not why.
The Boss was out of the office this afternoon and I spent the majority of it crying at my desk.
I also feel that at the moment all I am talking about is John or death or death or John or changing the flat or some such nonsense. But it's always the same subject......John.
I really want to change the fucking record!
But I can't.
It makes me feel guilty when people talk to me and it's the same old same old recently.
So I'm going to try and stop.
I need to talk about something else.
Really, I do.
In other news, the garden is being totally re-turfed on Saturday - I cannot wait!
Also, our lovely neighbours upstairs move out, they've sold and are moving on. I am gutted and I will really miss them.
What really 'hurts' is that the new neighbours will only know me, they will never have met the amazing Mr. Ellis.....
That thought makes me cry!
It would not be melodramatic for me to say that I nearly crashed!!!!!
I was cycling to work, as one does, when I saw him waiting at the bus stop.
There he was in all his finest.
The mauve gingham shirt I love him in (it was THE shirt!).
The chinos.
The cute bum.
The salt and pepper hair thinning on top.
And then, 'Hubby' turned around.
FUCKING GUTTED!!!
It wasn't him.
I couldn't believe it.
I could have sobbed right there on the road in front of the fellow commuters waiting for the Number 63.
But no, I got back in the saddle and I carried on to work - my stomach, head and broken heart filled with confusion, emotion and most of all, overwhelming, aching grief.
Crying whilst cycling is dangerous kids, do not try it!!!
John loved this record.
I'm not ashamed to say that when I met John I wasn't in a good place, mentally.
I'd not long come out of a violent relationship with a man I lovingly refer to as 'the cunt" (sorry Mum!).
I was all over the place and John, being John, slowly but surely brought me back.
He was there, he was always there.
He grounded me, he helped me find me again.
When I met him I was really confused.
I was paranoid.
I was insecure.
I was full to the brim of low self esteem.
All these 'mental issues' have returned since he departed this life.
All of them.
I am not in a good place at all.
'Me' is lost and I cannot find him.
I, stupidly, sent a text to a very lovely friend today, a friend who came to see me one evening this week. This friend has been there for me for about the past 9 years AND through all this shite, never questioning, just doing what I needed, because she's so frigging wonderful!
The text was full of paranoia, full of me being fucking stupid.
I wasn't horrid or nasty, I was just being insecure.
It was unnecessary!
Why I sent it I don't know but I was convinced that something was wrong, things were not right and I needed to make sure everything was alright.
Being the star she is, she ignored it and reassured me.
I feel like this 42 year old has regressed back to the immature, scared, insecure 20 or 30 something I once was.
This is totally because John isn't here.
The 'voices' are soooooo loud, some days I cannot hear my own thoughts.
The demons are gathering and they're tearing my mind apart, feasting on my fucked up thoughts.
I don't know how to stop them anymore.
John did.
I had a motto when I first met John - 'Fake it until you make it'.
I feel like my current life is all 'fake'.
People come over to see me and I smile, laugh and nod in all the right places, but it doesn't mean diddly squat really.
I go out and I do all the right things, say all the right things, be the person people want me to be.
I'm not really there I'm afraid (sorry).
I'm off thinking about John.
Where is he?
Why isn't he here?
Why did he die?
When is he coming home?
Why am I alone?
Why did this happen to us?
Do I have to be at home on my own?
Today was a bloody shit day.
I struggled mentally to hold it together.
It got worse as the day went on - I know not why.
The Boss was out of the office this afternoon and I spent the majority of it crying at my desk.
I also feel that at the moment all I am talking about is John or death or death or John or changing the flat or some such nonsense. But it's always the same subject......John.
I really want to change the fucking record!
But I can't.
It makes me feel guilty when people talk to me and it's the same old same old recently.
So I'm going to try and stop.
I need to talk about something else.
Really, I do.
In other news, the garden is being totally re-turfed on Saturday - I cannot wait!
Also, our lovely neighbours upstairs move out, they've sold and are moving on. I am gutted and I will really miss them.
What really 'hurts' is that the new neighbours will only know me, they will never have met the amazing Mr. Ellis.....
That thought makes me cry!
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