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.