How long?!…

It’s 8 months ago today that My Lady passed away. 8 months…

I’m looking at the garden while I have my first smoke of the day. It’s changed so much in those 8 months. The third season since. Wow. Before I know it, it will be a year. I had a look at the photos I’ve taken of the garden this year. It’s crazy how much I managed to do. It wasn’t unusual for me to spend 12 hours or more out there in the summer. It’s quite clear how obsessed I was. Notice I said “was”? During lockdown everyone had masses of time on their hands, so it’s no wonder I had it looking amazing. I was also (and still am) obsessed with the evening sky’s. As I mentioned before, I have this small obsession with the Moons phases. Venus was next to the Moon almost all summer as it set.

Going through all these summer photos has reminded me of how I felt during those scorching hot days. I just wanted to fly away to some permanently hot place and never come back. Of course, I would never have just abandoned anyone, but god did I want to be anywhere else but here. I still imagine myself retiring or at least spending my last working days somewhere hot. Our trips to Croatia cemented that vibe.

I wonder how I would have coped if there was no Covid. I managed to thrash out so much grief and obsessive behaviour when we were locked down. Maybe I would have been ok at work, but at what cost? I can’t spend too long in this vibe. It’s mentally crippling and at a time where I need to be super frosty and on it. I have had the “luxury” of being able to allow my depressions to play themselves out, mainly due to lockdown and then due to becoming unemployed. I don’t have that luxury anymore.

I’m going down to the office tomorrow to pick up my uniform and ID in readiness for my first shadowing visits on Tuesday. As you can imagine, being emotionally fragile when you are a domiciliary health worker could present a few problems. I seem to be developing the art of “I’m fine!” with the fake smile that everyone seems to be fooled by, so I’m not too bothered. I am so much stronger now too. After all, this is just a toe in the water as it were. I’m trying to have no expectations and to be open minded about it. I also have to be brutally honest with myself. It would not be fair to press on if I couldn’t cope with it. What if I broke down on a visit? Nope… Anyway, If it doesn’t work out, that’s fine. I’ll just try something else. I’m still completely winging it you know? I’m not as rudderless as before but I have no clue how this could play out. Almost everyone I have talked to about it has said that they took a career break and worked as a carer of some sort and the ending up loving it so much they did it for years. Seems quite a common story.

So, apart from the above, I have been doing the usual Sunday routine. Cleaning, washing etc. I can’t not have everything ready for the beginning of the week. Another new obsession. At least that one is useful… I’m emotionally tired now. I have noticed my legs are particularly tired today. No reason for that as I’ve not exactly been working out. Who knows? Just another ache, pain, neurosis and nearly psychosis a few times to throw into this years mix. There were several times in the first two weeks I just couldn’t respond to any stimulus. Catatonic almost. I guess, from that perspective I have come some way. I hate that though. I resent being able to cope now. Don’t get me wrong, I still have many days where I’m just destroyed, secretly bawling my eyes out all day. The fact is, more often than not, I am coping well enough to get everything done. It’s not getting any easier but it will. Once I have a reliable income I’ll be able to relax a bit. No doubt I’ll feel guilty about that too…