Two years…

I can’t wrap my head around the idea that tomorrow it’ll have been two years since My Lady went into hospital, never to come out. Two… The triggers are all around me. It’s like I’ve been thrown back a year and a half emotionally. I’m sick of it already and the actual anniversary hasn’t even arrived yet. Oh… I just remembered… Valentines day was three days after My Lady died. At the risk of being repetitive, I hate this time of year… So much.

I just returned from the Post Office having sent Precious’ birthday package. I hope she likes it. My MOT expires next week so I have a test booked. I hope it passes, or at least an easy (cheap) fix if not. That really would be the icing on the cake if it fails badly. I can’t work without my car, simple.

My short term memory is atrocious at the moment. Many times over the last few days, I’ve been going round in circles, repeatedly remembering and then forgetting just as quick. It’s infuriating. Again, it’s like I was a year and a half ago. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been known for having a poor memory, but this is different. This is grief related memory loss. I’ve been through it many times, but not for quite a while. However bad I’ve felt in recent months, it shows me not only how far I’ve come, but how I’ve been relatively stable recently. Sure hasn’t felt like it though. I’m sick of feeling like I’m winging it all the time. Even though I am, constantly. I got into a lot of debt over the last two years grief spending. Shocking, looking back. Quite aside from not earning enough at times of course. It’s taken two years for the penny to drop. I’m actually poor. Again. I lost count how many times I said “No!” to myself walking around town. Burger, no. Costa, no. Chocolate, no. And so it went on. No, no, no, no… So many things we never even thought about back in the day. How lucky we were. How far we had come. How fucking depressing my life is now.

I’m sat at my PC bashing out this drivel when I could just as easily be doing something productive. As I said before, there’s always work to be done. Right now though? I couldn’t care less. Sat with my hood pulled as tight around my face as possible. I crave a hoodie nap. Unlikely. I should go and clean and check the car for the MOT but I can’t even be bothered to get up, never mind go out in the cold.

I stopped listening to emotional songs today. It wasn’t helping. Obviously. I doubt being sat here writing is helping either come to think of it. Time to try and shake this off.

I shall return…

So that’s another job done. I had to clean the bath/shower and when I did, I noticed the plug wasn’t draining. I have to clean some hairs from it every now and then but it was blocked. Gross. I guess I’m losing more hair than I realised. Great. To be fair, I haven’t gone right in with the sink un-blocker for a long time. A couple of whacks with the plunger and it was sorted. Time to cook food for my Princeling and then the next thing. Only I’m not sure what that will be yet…

Food cooked, my Princeling out and the house to myself now. What next? Oh yeah. Pain…

It’s too cold and I’m too depressed to force myself to do the outside jobs. The car, the outhouse. Ideally a bit of a garden tidy. Hopefully I’ll have the energy to tackle something tomorrow. I’ll do the car if nothing else. That can’t wait.

I’m on the sofa now. I can’t do it any more. My brain is melting. I’m trying to think if there’s anything else that had to be done today. I don’t think so. In that case I’m tapping out. I’m off duty for the rest of the day. The only thing left is to make my bed but I’ll do that when I crash.

Now I’m sat here, I don’t think I’ll be able to nap. My Princeling has a couple of friends over. Joy. All I want is to be on my own and switch off. Apparently I’m asking too much. Again. While I like that fact he feels he can bring friends home, I don’t want anyone in my house anymore. Obviously I have no intention of stopping his friends visiting, but I simply want to be left alone. No need to be a dutiful host. No need to even get dressed if I can’t be bothered. To be able to walk around my home looking like shit and it not mattering one bit. I wonder how long and how deep this latest depression will be? It’s not like I’m actively wallowing either. I’ve been fighting it constantly. Each time it’s starts, I get annoyed and crush it down for the most part. All well and good for keeping your shit together, but it’s utterly exhausting.

Despite everything my brain won’t shut up. Writing usually helps me offload some of the mental load but it isn’t working as yet. My eyes are heavy and sleepy but my mind keeps them open. How new. I also don’t want to fall asleep with his friends here. Even if it’s unfounded, there’s barely a living soul I trust with my home, and the thought of sleeping with two relative strangers here just doesn’t work for me. I can’t emphasise enough how much I have trust issues. The only living soul that never let me down once is gone. One person in 47 years. The odds of my living to 94 are remote, so that’s me done.

The more I think about the hermit vibe, the more I think I like it. I know a lot of these feelings are transient but this one keeps coming back.

I think I’m supposed to die alone. Seems legit. I’ve seen what that’s like from when I was a domiciliary nurse. Not palliative care but end of life care nonetheless. I hope I don’t have that in store for me. What a horrible situation to end up in.

Worst case though, that could be me in ten years. Maybe my spine is screwed after all. Nothing would surprise me. I was lucky not to be paralysed when I crushed my spine back in the day. If all I got was another ten or twenty years then I’ll be grateful most of them were with My Lady, Precious and my Princeling.

So what if my back is screwed? It’s just another thing I’ll deal with on my own. Maybe I should stop banging on about being on my own. It’s not like it’s going to change anytime soon. It’ll drive me crazy before long, if it hasn’t already. It’s quite the mental loop as you can tell.

Randomly, Work Husband text me asking how I’m doing. He has uncanny timing. So I tell him “shit” and he calls me straight away. Bless him. And after all my rambling on earlier too. His husband has covid so we can’t even meet after work.

After yet another drama, mission and solution, I finish my call with Work Husband. I’ve been trying to relax for hours now. It’s almost laughable. I nearly relaxed for a second earlier and instantly I felt myself drifting into sleep. A chat helped a bit. I just want to switch off. I can’t believe I’m still saying that. I’m actually going crazy.

I’m going to see if I can nod off…