Time has passed. Not everything is about my dead husband you know?
That is a lie. It is. It is all about that thing what happened. It just doesn’t go away. Still one must pluck up the courage to carry on; so we do.
LP is challenging. Not the kind of challenging where you can get professionals to label it and then refer you to more professionals that you can be on waiting lists for. She is just who she is; almost 8- screaming at the sky. Mind reading would be helpful here. She is either absolutely delighted or horrified by me and I don’t stand much of a chance of working out what exactly is so embarrassing. I am either quietly or loudly myself and she responds as her whirring brain sees fit. We get on with it. She’s changing and so am I because that’s how things happen. Hormones are dancing a jig with us both. It has been really hard. I have wanted to put her or myself in the bin. I am reminded of her days as a crying newborn where there was not much more we could do than be there and get help. In fact she has had some time with a bereavement counsellor and she’s okay; as I suspected- just herself. We know where to go now if things get differently tricky and that feels like progress.
Parenting with a ghost is hugely unsatisfying. I can’t get him to go to the shops for midweek wine or cast him a look that indicates that I am going to combust very soon. Seb was never going to be the strict one but he always showed up and did something; even if the something wasn’t the exact thing that was needed. Better a person trying than not being there at all. Ghosts can be told off though and they don’t answer back much. I am still angry with him at times; this just isn’t what I signed up for. So in an alternate reality I am selling it all and taking off in a camper van. I could do that one day; but not now. Not when there is family to love and a little girl who needs me not to go off on one. When I am feeling at my limit Seb usually chucks a memory in; like the spiky net thing the police throw across the road to stop a speeding vehicle in chase. Whoa there! The things he sends remind me that I am a good egg and it’s enough for a moment to be doing what I’m doing.
I stopped writing for a bit because I didn’t have the time. I was busy being a bit miserable and so tired. Working full time at wonky hours and still trying to get to the bottom of why everything hurts all the time. I have stopped moving much and the vessel which this brain resides in is changing shape and proportion in line with my condition. I’m looking at this screen through specs too- that’s new. The combination of work, the winter and chronic pain hasn’t left much time for tippity tapping on the keyboard. At the moment I am between contracts and trying to cherish this quiet bit. I am decluttering. I recommend it. It is of course a response to not feeling in control. If I put lots of belongings in a bag and give them away then I have achieved something. If I paint a wall or change things round then I am meaningful in some way. It’s all for a reason.
When I didn’t have a job and I didn’t know what I was going to do; I signed up for a new qualification. So now I am studying for a BSc in Psychology with Counselling. It’s an investment in me today and for the future when LP is off having her own adventures. It feels good to be learning again and as the course has begun with sociology it is familiar ground. Sociology is just nosiness with rules and concepts.
In everything that has been going on; the best bit of my life are the people. Every interaction is a meaningful part of the jigsaw. I am better when I am outside and talking and seeing life. So although LP hides away from my exuberance at times I think she’ll work out that it is all for the best. If I’m okay then she’ll be too.