Perspective

I saw a comment on Facebook the other day: one person posted a funny video and another remarked that they were happy to see this video since they had seen too many miserable posts recently. I have to say that whenever I write a depressed or miserable entry in this blog I always worry that all I'm actually doing is convincing people that I've lost the plot and turned into a complete sat g*t. So I'm going to try and write a counterpoint to my recent depressed and miserable musings, partially to try to convince you, the reader, that I'm not completely off my rocker, but also to try and talk some perspective into myself.

We arrived at 1am this morning in the south of France for a weeks holiday. I'm sitting here now with a fantastic view in bright sunshine, feeling extremely tired, probably since I did most of the driving and also because I've still not shaken off the 'flu bug that took me out last week. In fact for the last hour or two, I've been sitting very still, just "listening" to the tiredness coursing through my mind and body. I really cannot remember when I've ever felt so tired before. It feels like it's "raining" tiredness in my head - there's a sense of it streaming down and around the inside of my skull. I can feel my pulse ringing my brain like a bell and in the teeth of my upper jaw. My eyes are gritty, my vision "glazed", my mind is foggy and feels like it's draped in a damp, grey blanket. There's tension in my chest and I'm very far from being relaxed. The rest of my body feels like it's been lightly beaten all over. Conclusion: I'm absolutely exhausted.

Therefore I suppose that I should not be surprised that I'm depressed and miserable. I think that perhaps one of the biggest changes between the "normal" life I had before Kay died and my life today is that previously being happy and positive was a natural state, it cost zero "mental balance" energy, it just was (and this is why people with "normal" lives often fail to appreciate normality - "normal" costs zero mental balance energy, it just is). Since Kay's death the opposite is true: it seems as if my natural state is now grief-stricken & heartbroken and that to be positive and happy costs energy. Therefore when I get tired, misery and depression get the upper hand. 

I suppose that these two things combine with each other as well, being tired leads to depression and depression saps one's energy, generating tiredness. My feeling is that there's a non-linear relationship involved, like some kind of lift/drag curve (for the pilots among you) where the more tired you get the more rapidly the depression increases and the effort/energy required to overcome the total effect grows rapidly. For me the solution to feeling miserable/depressed is always exercise. Getting out on my bike or getting on the cross-trainer with some loud music always helps me feel better. But the mental effort it takes to drag my ass off the sofa on onto my bike rises dramatically with tiredness/depression. Plus, this kind of tiredness often goes with some kind of physical limitation, e.g. feeling ill or back problems. And guess what? This last week I've had both - 'flu and my back being "difficult" again. Both of these things preclude exercise, which means that currently I remain bathed in my fug of misery and depression. 

There's one other potential avenue of relief: hugs and TLC. But when Lauren's away my source of hugs is halved and the concept of TLC hasn't arrived in our house yet - it's every man for himself around here.

So the perspective that I should have is that dealing with grief is a slow process that involves two steps forward and one, two or three back. I guess that during the last few months there have been a few backward steps. I suppose that this is nothing but normal, seen on the longer term. Unfortunately it's very difficult to live from day to day in these circumstances with only long term perspective as a guiding light. 

There. Was that a less miserable post? Or do I need even more perspective?

Need to write, what to say?

I'm laid up with a bout of 'flu that's knocked me flat for the last 3 days and doesn't seem much better today. It's probably a indication of the fact that I'm physically and mentally extremely run down. The last months have been and remain very difficult. I know that recovering from the loss of Kay was never going to be a linear process, but it feels like I have gone practically back to the beginning. The pain is unbearable, I have been in tears so often recently.

A few weeks ago a colleague rushed into my office, very upset, to say that his daughter had been diagnosed with diabetes and that he had to rush to the hospital to hear more about the subject. This had a dramatic effect on me, I flashed straight back to the two times in my life when I myself had receieved such news - the last time also at work. My instant reaction was "if only Kay had had diabetes". I know that I should probably have put my colleagues situation first, after all his news was no small thing. But I was absolutely blindsided by the flashback, by the scream of desperation and longing that I felt, by the bone deep need to change everything. If only Kay had had diabetes.

I spent the rest of the day struggling with tears, sat at my desk, behind my computer. I couldn't concentrate at all, I just tried unsuccessfully not to cry. When it was time to go home, I got in the car and drove through a veil of tears and when I got home I collapsed on the sofa and sobbed my heart out. I miss her so very much, oh if only I could find the words to do those feelings justice.

Life has been just so difficult these last months, the most difficult period since the weeks before and after Kay died. This time of year is also difficult because it was the time of hope, of the bone marrow transplant, of the days when everything seemed to be going well and the trees turned green while we watched from Kay's window. Now to watch spring set in is to be reminded that all that hope, all that investment we made in believing in a future for Kay, came to nothing. I think that if it wasn't for Lauren and Natasha, I'd be ready to find a different life. If my heart stopped of its own accord, I would welcome the silence. DNR. Organs available.

I suppose that I should really reflect on my own words here and conclude that I'm very depressed and do something about it. Part of the depression is perhaps temporary in that I'm so run down and not well at the moment, I guess. But part seems inescapable - no matter what, I'm doomed to have to carry the loss of Kay with me for the rest of my life and that seems utterly unbearable at the moment. So I'm really not sure what there is left to be done to lift the depression. I've done all the talking to the psychologist that seems helpful. I've burnt the ears off all of my friends. Right now, it seems that nothing has helped, that I'm still bathed in inconsolable, uncontrollable grief.

Even after 18 months I can't believe that she's gone. I still have the feeling that she's just away for a weekend and will walk in the door any minute. This really can't be happening, this really can't be my life. I want to wake up, I want to go back, I want anything that will take this pain and suffering away.