It’s 2:15am on January 25th, and once again I can’t sleep.
This happens most nights purely because I get in late from work and my mind can’t shut down, but then sometimes as well I can’t sleep because it feels like grief is consuming me and I can’t do a single thing to escape it. Every single thought turns into that horrible moment of finding out and all the horrible moments following on from that and there’s nothing I can do to stop it except keep my eyes shut tight and hope they’ll go away. I’m past trying to trick myself into thinking it’s not real and it’s all a horrible nightmare because now I’ve been through all the things that prove it was real, not that that helps.
The worst thing about grief is that there isn’t a timescale on it. You can’t look forward to the day that you won’t be grieving because I doubt that day will ever exist – you just look forward to the days where grief isn’t the only thing coating you. Recently I’ve been doing quite well. When I say quite well I mean I haven’t been crying as much as usual and it’s been a little bit easier to act like everything’s ok but something this week has just made me slump. It’s always the silly moments like when I’m drying my hair or driving down the motorway and suddenly I’m crying and sometimes it lasts half an hour and sometimes it lasts a few minutes because the reality of my situation has just hit me again and it’s an instant reaction that has to happen.
Thinking about the future makes me feel more upset than looking back. I think about moving into a new place, getting married and having kids, going on exciting holidays, learning something new or something generally brilliant happening – these are the moments that I won’t get to share with my mum and every time I realise that again I feel my heart ache.
When I was at university I would call mum at least a few times every week to catch up and we’d both share the highs and lows of the week – what I wouldn’t give for one of those phone calls right now. For some reason earlier this evening I listened to the last voicemail mum left me; I managed to listen to the first two words before I had to stop it. Some days those voicemails are comforting and others I can’t bear to listen because it’s a voice I’ll never get to hear again in person.
It’s 2:39am and I’m not sure where I’m going with this now. I just feel so sad and my head feels so full that I needed to put it somewhere. I suppose this also serves as a little psa to ignore what you see about “The 5 Steps of Grief” and all that because trust me, it’s wrong. There are no “steps” to grief, you just have to deal with it and take each day as it comes, and try to remember that they won’t always be bad days.