Killing Me Softly

How do I explain this???

I s'pose I just jump in both feet first and blurt it out......

This morning I woke up thinking about suicide. 

Actually, actively, properly thinking about it. 

I didn't wake up and then start to think about it, it was already in my head, being thunk about!!!

As soon as I realised what I was thinking, I sat there, on the edge of the bed, not even fully awake, and I cried, I just cried.

I've been on the edge of tears all day. 

And scared, feeling physically and emotionally scared.

What does it say about me?

What does it say about my 'mental health'?

Am I really that dark and low inside?

Is it normal?

Should I stop eating cheese or chocolate so close to bed time?

What scares me the most is, while thinking about what I was thinking I started thinking that it 'felt preferable' to life without John, even with all the wonderful positives in my life, of which there are many.

Now THAT scares me!!!

I've had a washing machine tummy all day.

Tears that fall freely.

It's still on my mind, I haven't stopped thinking about it.

I can't stop thinking about it.

No doubt a fair few people will think I need to seek out a counsellor.

To that I say what I have always said......No.

I'm not ready for that and, more importantly, I don't want to.

To talk about me would be to talk about John and about us.

I could never adequately explain our relationship, or indeed do my man justice by way of a pathetic explanation to some complete stranger who never knew him, doesn't know me and never knew John & John the couple.
No. No. No.

I will work it out, one way or the other.

Our love is dead, but the dead don't go away

They made us what we are, they're with us every day

Our love is dead, but the dead they're still alive

In memory and thoughts, and the context they provide

Sleepless in Cornwall

I'm a little improved of late, not as low as I was, not high enough to be happy but 'better'. 

The lifting has probably been helped by John's eldest son and his fianceé visiting for the Bank Holiday weekend. 

It was, as it always is, a pleasure and a joy to see them.

I had a few private tears while they were here.

He's so like his Dad in personality - loud, playful, fun, our godson absolutely adores and idolises him!!!

Hearing him around the house or out and about I could hear John, it was wonderful, it was lovely, it was warming.

It also crushed me inside.

Their personalities are peas in a pod.

So alike.

Now that they've gone home, back to civilisation, the house is very quiet.

The fun, the laughter, the volume, it's all gone.....we are practically silent.

I miss it, I miss them, I miss the Life in the house and I miss John.

I've cleaned the house, done the washing, walked the dogs, done all the chores I needed to, most of which have been accompanied by tears.

I went to bed almost dreading waking this morning as I knew they were leaving.

But then I go to bed every night dreading waking up.

Mornings are the worst.

I really don't like waking up at all.

I go to bed and I potter on the iPad most of the night, into the early hours, until I can no longer keep my eyes open, simply because sleeping means waking up in the bed alone, by myself, without John.

Without fail, the first thing I notice every single morning is that one side of the bed is empty, then I remember John's dead....every single morning for over 15 months.

I really do detest mornings with a fucking passion.

Mornings are the thing I dislike most in this new life.

It takes me an age to 'warm up', to get out of the low that I wake up in.

I know it's one of the reasons I'm always so frigging tired but, try as I might, I can't stop it.

I've considered pills but I don't really want to go down that route.

I thought about buying a new bed but that would be stupid and a waste of money - I'd still be alone in the damn bed!!!!

And, being so tired all the time is going to make my moods less positive.

It's a catch 22, a vicious cycle, from which I find it hard to escape.

I crave sleep and yet I shy from it as much as I can.

Drinking.....drinking helps!

Another 'happy' Anniversary

Spiralling Downwards

I'm still low.

I go to work not feeling completely happy.

I come home and feel depressed.

I'm not really properly enjoying anything.

I go to work, I do the job, I play with/hug a bird or two, I come home.

I realise and appreciate how lucky I am but I can't shake this fuckery.

I walk the dogs while constantly thinking about John, thinking about us, thinking about our life, thinking about the past, fantasising about having it all back and everything being right and happy and wonderful again.

But it can't be and it won't be.

I went to Tesco this morning, my traditional location for a good cry. 

I didn't let myself down.

There I was in the wine aisle, trying my fucking hardest to concentrate on the bottles and not on the fact that, as soon I took a deep breath, I knew I was going to sob.

And I did.

This Thursday (15th August) is our wedding anniversary.

Had he lived, John and I would have been married for 4 years.

This November we would have been together 11 years.

I've been posting pictures of him on the Good Grief Facebook page (click here) leading up to Thursday.

I think it's probably made me even unhappier.

But I won't stop.

Why would I?

November 2002

As my life drifts into a sense of normality and routine, so I begin to drift into yet another unhappy place.

In the last 15 months (16 since he fell ill), I have been 'happy' extremely rarely.

Most of the time I am down, unhappy, sad, depressed, *insert negative word/words here*.

It's wearing.

It gives me headaches more often than not.

I'm so tired of it all.

Tired of the moodswings.

Tired of the anger.

Tired of taking it out on the dogs.

Tired of the crying.

Tired of the sadness.

Tired of the grief.

Tired of missing him.

Tired of wanting him.

Tired of looking at photographs while crying and wishing he wasn't dead.

Tired of going to bed at night and lying there feeling unhappy and sad because one side of the bed is empty.

Tired of waking in the middle of the night and crying myself back to sleep.

Tired of waking up in the morning and remembering.

Tired of wanting to be surrounded by people.

Tired of wanting to be on my own.

Tired of everything.....fucking EVERYTHING!!!!

Crushed

Today I was doing a bit of 'housekeeping' on my home computer, going through documents, deleting crap photographs I had taken, sorting my bookmarks, as you do.

I was busy organising and arranging and deleting when, without realising what I had done, the following web page appeared before my eyes - http://wolfieandrentongetwed.blogspot.co.uk

My first reaction was a sharp intake of breath, followed by disbelief, followed by a 'morbid fascination' to read the entire thing, followed by tears.

My lovely Hubby started the 'wedding blog'...it was a piece of fun, something to detract from the stress of organising the big day, to share it with our friends and family, to show them that he too was excited to be marrying me, as I was excited to be marrying him.

The 'One Year On' chapter is written by me.....I think you can pretty much tell how happy I was, how in love with him I was and how lucky I felt to be his, to be married to such a perfect, wonderful, incredible, happy, generous, jolly human being.

Since I 'stumbled' on this earlier today I have thought about nothing else.

It has 'crushed' me.

Ten steps forward, fifty back.

In one week, in 7 short days, on 15th August, it would have been our 4th wedding anniversary.

People probably want me to see the positive in this.

That at least I had him.

That he had me.

That we had each other, for whatever amount of time.

That we were lucky to have been so in love.

Well.....I wouldn't say him being dead is particularly lucky and I certainly don't feel fucking lucky having lost the love of my life, The One.

Lucky? LUCKY?

I don't want to 'feel lucky', I don't want to think about how we had it good for the time we were together, I don't want to look back and remember 'how it used to be when John was alive'.

I want John.

I want our perfect, wonderful, exciting, happy adventure of a life.

I want us.

What do they say? "I want, never gets".

The Doldrums

dol-drums (dohl-druh mz)

noun (used with a plural verb)

1. a dull, listless, depressed mood; low spirits

This, unfortunately, is how I am feeling, and pretty much how I have been feeling for some time. 

Before I go on, I am very much aware that I have a lot of positive goodness in my life......my job, my new home and garden, the dogs, my wonderful supportive friends and family, just being in Cornwall, etc, etc.

None of this makes me feel happy for very long though.

I haven't been truly, honestly happy since early April 2012 when John was still alive and we were together.

I have a day at work which I enjoy - I go home to the doldrums.

I have the beginnings of a social life - I go home to the doldrums.

My sister, brother in law and niece visited today - as soon as they left, I'm back in the doldrums.

And I'm tired, tired of everything and I mean everything.

2012 was non stop, not particularly positive, from the death of John to preparing to move to Cornwall.

I moved to Marazion and I knew that in 6 months I would have to move again, so I didn't really relax properly.

And now, here we are, my 3rd home in 14 months and I am really, really tired.

I don't sleep very well.

I haven't slept well for months and months and months.

Bed is such a depressing, lonely, unhappy place.

I can't lie in as I have the dogs and their bowels to think about.

I feel physically, mentally and emotionally knackered!

In the beginning it was fucking awful, however my life has most definitely improved since we left London and started again in Cornwall, but, although Life has improved, it seems that in reality, I have not.

I've returned to crying at some point or other nearly every day.

I miss John so much, I wish I could quantify it, but suffice to say that it simply feels like I'm constantly searching, constantly yearning, constantly needing and constantly wanting, but he's nowhere to be found.

I don't suppose I'm coping with this very well at all really.

When I'm alone I am once again overcome with grief and loss.

I'm afraid I see no way of making me feel better.