Well I find myself in Costa to be on my own and write a bit. I’ve not done this for quite a while. I used to come here every day to write about my grief when I first started this blog. I’m kind of getting flashbacks right now. It’s not great. Especially now I’m confirmed as having PTSD. Since finding out for sure, some things make a lot more sense now. Unfortunately it doesn’t help in the slightest. I already assumed I had it but having it confirmed medically has left me feeling weird about it. I’ve been having flashbacks of various kinds ever since My Lady died.
As I left, memories of being at the Ham shops with My Lady start swirling around my mind. Buying hair dye from Superdrug (which is gone now), trying to carry too many carrier bags of shopping from Tesco back to the car, M&S for our date night meals, Poundland for cheap toiletries and dog treats. We regularly popped in the charity shops too.
We’ve lived in this house for eleven years. We must have gone to the Ham shops thousands of times. As I’m strolling back to the car, my mind drags me back to the beginning of the pandemic and lockdown. Barriers forming a long queuing system and traffic lights on the entrance to Tesco. Just thinking about those times is triggering. Everything was so fresh and horrifically raw. Lockdown came ten days after My Lady’s funeral. We were “lucky” to have a funeral at all.
After two and a half years, I get flashbacks of flashbacks sometimes. I still can’t go to Poundland without remembering the crazy woman there, accusing me of throwing liquid on her baby. That was the very first time I had gone to the shops after My Lady died. The whole experience was traumatic.
All I want to do is be on my own in my little bubble. Recent events have left me feeling intensely insular. I find myself slipping back into that trust thing. I trust no one and nothing. I don’t even trust myself. When I relax, anxiety kicks in and I’m back in fight or flight mode. I realise now that I’ve been in that mode for years now.
Years… How can it be years already?
Now that public life has returned to some sort of normality, it’s strange thinking back over the last two years. The different head spaces I’ve been in, the different forms of grief I’ve felt. The tens of thousands of faces I’ve seen in the vaccination program, the dirty minimum wage jobs I’ve had to take, and lots more besides. More most of the time I’ve HAD to have two jobs. I’m truly sick of it. Even to the point that I’d happily give up on all the vaccination stuff if it meant I could simply break even on my day job. Sometimes I feel like I’m working myself to death. I’m physically ok, but mentally I’m falling apart. Again.
So next week we have a stock condition survey which is being carried out by our housing association. Over the last two years, my house has not been very well looked after and it’s damaged in places. In eleven years, they have never wanted to check the condition of the house. Why now for gods sake? I’ve spent the last two days filling holes, repairing bits and pieces. I also replaced two window handles that broke ages ago. They only broke because I hadn’t lubricated the hinges for years. The Garden looks like a dump and I know they won’t be happy about that either. I got through four small tubs of filler yesterday and today, (Bank holiday Monday) and I need at least one more to finish it all. I have a little white silk paint to so it shouldn’t be too awful.
Job by job, I’m getting somewhere. I still feel anxious as hell but in the back of my mind, I’m ticking these things off so hopefully I might relax at some point. Ha, what am I thinking?! I just want September out of the way. Much as I’m excited about seeing Machine Head and my Headcase family, the financial stress of it just adds to the list. I’m having a quick pit stop for a cigarette and a drink. I still have the meditation music on. I’m really not sure how much it helps to be honest. I listened to it so much while I was locked down in my grief, it’s probably a trigger in itself. I can’t listen to my usual music at the moment. I need my head as clear as possible from now on.
Once the next few weeks are out of the way, my Princeling and I need to start focussing on some sort of plan. Two and a half years in, I’m still in survival/fight or flight mode. It’s not sustainable, either financially or psychologically. Hmm, I’ve said that here before. The situation is badly impacting the mental health of both of us. Nothing to strive for, nothing to focus on. In one respect I’m lucky, as I have my music. My Princeling doesn’t even have that bless him. Not in the same way, anyway.
Now the shit has hit the fan in several parts of my life, I seem to be more able to tackle everything. I have to be careful not to sit down for too long though, or I’ll start pontificating again. Sitting here typing way is a good example. Not getting much done right now, am I?…
Four hours later and I’ve done a few more things. More filling, more sanding. A wave of tiredness came over me so I had a nap on the sofa. Only an hour this time though. Still so much to do, I don’t know why I thought I’d get it all done by tonight. I’ve not even looked at the garden or the outhouse and I was up before 8am. My hair and beard feel rough from all the filler dust. I really need a shower.
I miss having a nice house. Will this shit never end?
The Life and Times of Lord Crookedhorn. 