I'm the mother of an adult!

My son turned 18 yesterday. I couldn't be more proud of him. A day of such mixed emotions. My handsome, talented boy turning into a man and his Dad not here to see it.

I made a Mars Bar cheesecake. It turned out great, if I do say so myself!

I am grateful that my children are healthy and here with me.

I am trying not to let the grief consume me now.

Overwhelmed by grief, acid burn (!), housework and life...

Today was tough. On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being a fantastic day of happiness and success (yeah, not too familiar with those) and 1 being a day whereby I've reached the depths of despair, today was about a 2. It started with me sleeping out and so the boys missed their lift to school. I got Dan a cab and he made it in time. E stayed in bed as he was a bit fluey, as was I. I went back to sleep and slept deeply, waking two hours later in a bog of sweat and irritation. The room was spinning, my head hurt, my heart raced and I just felt crappy.

So I decided to keep A home. She should have been in school of course but I messed up.

The morning went on in similar fashion. In quick succession Doug managed to break a fencing panel and escaped numerous times, I found the housework overwhelming, I had no cigarettes which I craved more than ever and then to top it off I got my toe stuck in the back door. That's what finally did it. I broke down crying and it was a flood. I just couldn't stop. It's such a rare thing for me to cry and especially to cry continuously. Poor A was very concerned. I really felt it was life in general getting me down with grief, of course, lurking somewhere sub-consciously but not at the forefront. My tears were of frustration and of disappointment in myself. I know I'm doing okay in general, considering our devastating loss but as a person, overall, at 43, well I'm fucking up often. At least that's the way I feel. I worry that I am all the kids have. What a scary thought.

My mother rang and I broke down on the phone. She called out. She really is always there for me which is wonderful. We might not always 'click' but she certainly does do a lot for us. She cleaned up a lot and gave me a rare hug; she brought me cigarettes and groceries. It was great. Hugs I can live without but cigarettes? Perish the thought.

As the afternoon wore on, things picked up slightly. I made a lovely chicken stir fry. Wow! All cheap Aldi ingredients. Very tasty, if I might say so myself.

Then I took myself up to the supermarket for a walk and, en route, acid burn (reflux) kicked in big time. Jesus, what a day. By the time I got to the shop I was perspiring dizzy, sweating and nauseous.

I see now that I am overwhelmed. My fantastic son turns 18 tomorrow. What a milestone. To acknowledge that D is not here to see his eldest son become a man... that is just too much sorrow for one person to take. He was so very proud of E, right from the moment he laid eyes on him in the labour ward all those years ago and that pride and love never wavered for a second. My beautiful boy becomes an adult. Wow! It seems particularly cruel that D left us the same year our first-born reaches adulthood.

Overall, awful day. I'll be glad to sleep tonight. Tomorrow will, I hope, be better. I'll try to make it special for E.

Hitting rock bottom (emotionally) and climbing back up...

So the last two weeks were a rage-fest. It was hard to eat, sleep, breathe, move.. with this anger inside. It seems I might have hit the peak of the anger (for now, at least).

Saturday was a rough day. Aisling was to perform in a show with her drama group. They had been rehearsing since January and she was really looking forward to it, in her usual clever humble way. We got to the theatre and into the room where she was to get changed and she broke down. She couldn't stop crying. It was uncontrollable grief. My heart broke for her. My baby. Such a great girl, who cruelly lost her father.

Surprisingly everything continued around her as if there wasn't a grief-stricken, heartbroken child crying uncontrollably in the middle of the hustle and bustle. Of course the show must go on but a few kind words or a pat on the back would have been nice. Strange. People are sheep but sheep are cuter.

Seething... terrified...

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” 

 - C.S. Lewis, 'A Grief Observed'

Here I am, almost 3 months on, and I still feel unfocused and bogged down by a myriad of different emotions, swirling around in my head and heart, making it hard to move forward.

The anger is consuming me at times. It could be just a word or an expression or one simple action that sets me off, leaving me seething with rage. I don't know if the rage is justified (unlikely?) or if it's grief playing tricks on me, distracting me perhaps from my loss. I don't want to leave a trail of people in my wake only to discover down the road that I should have just taken a step back and a deep breath or ten. This anger is real but is it really real?

The loneliness is hard to take. And the positivity is impossible to take. I noticed that some people believe that if they're positive and happy all the time, it will rub off on me and I'll ease up on being depressed. It's insane though. I am what I am and I feel what I feel. Our whole lives have changed forever and no amount of sunshine or smiles is going to impact that.

I'm terrified, petrified, immobilised. I'm supposed to move forward as a single parent now. A SINGLE PARENT. Me? Jesus.