This morning I looked in the mirror and Jackie Stallone leered back at me. It tends to happen following A Bad Day, which is what yesterday was.
I’d spent much of it peering in at myself from above, wondering how the hell my life had come to this.
It was perhaps not helped by going to watch The Wolf of Wall Street, which was akin to spending three hours being force-fed Red Bull on a Waltzer. At two hours in, I was so wrung out I actually thought I was going to be sick.
My friend and I went for noodles afterwards and I cried into my Szechuan Pork. Then I suddenly felt anxious: to see my child; to get home; at the sight of rain falling outside. I drove home as the light faded ahead of me, not quite believing that the sun was setting on yet another day He had missed.
It’s days like these when only my Husband will do. I want it to be His voice telling me everything will be OK, pet, and not to worry. I want it to be Him waiting for me when I get home, not a sideboard full of His picture.
I have Mother, of course, and my sister who take on much of the rage on my behalf, but sometimes I feel so broken that even the sisterhood cannot minister to the pain.
Yesterday, The Grief and The Disbelief got me, and like one of DiCaprio’s hookers I had no choice but to lie back and take it.
This morning, though, I patched up Jackie as best I could and told her that she must carry on. I dropped my girl off at school, walked over the fields with my dog and looked on at another day.
10 thoughts on “Force-Fed Red Bull on a Waltzer”
I am so sorry for you having the Bad Day. it’s purely awful to get jerked back into such raw and heart wrenching longing and going through the damned grief gauntlet. I’m just glad you were able to write about it so others such as I can enfold you in virtual warm hugs and let you know you are not alone. glad you felt better today.
much love and light,
Marginally better, yes thanks Karen. I’d like to say I’m getting used to it, but each time the grief wave comes I feel as if I’m back to square one. I never know how to deal with it. Thanks for the virtual hugs, as ever. Back to you too. X
Oh, was thinking of going to see that film next week. You’ve put me off it somewhat!
I know exactly how you feel. Nobody said it was easy. But no one said it would be this hard. No one to come back to, make sense of the day with, I think is one of the hardest parts of this horrible journey. I could tell you that you are not alone but I know that’s exactly how you feel. It’s the way I feel too.
Actually, it does help to know I’m not alone. I was thinking this very thing last night as I looked at my daughter and thought ‘Jesus, I can’t believe your daddy is missing out on you’ – then I thought about another widow I know whose husband dropped dead when she was three months pregnant with her son. And I didn’t feel so alone. It is bloody hard, like you say. Bloody hard. Thanks for the words of solidarity. And re: WofWSt – it could do with an intermission! Make sure you’re in the mood! Big love x
Why is it we keep getting punched in the gut when we just think we coping ok. Yesterday I thought I’d try and tidy the garden. Never my forte always Ian’s I leapt from one job to the next. Trying to trim connivers, paint the fence, pull out dead stuff which probably would have grown again. Ian would be shouting down at me as he was a one job man. So now looking out the back window. The garden is in disarray and I haven’t the heart to start again today My black dog is now half brown as he rubbed against fence as I was doing it Think only the poodle parlour can save him. I too went to bed crying as my back ached and there was no one there to tell me I’d been silly and done too much. Give us all the strength to get through another day. Love an hugs xxx
That is what is so disheartening Lynne – we think we’re doing OK then reality bites again. I’m still feeling pretty tearful. Can’t shake it at the moment. Sadness, lingering. Glad the pooch is still providing a distraction. Mine is too. Strength to you my love. X
Lucie, sorry you’ve had a horrible time. I don’t have any wise words but just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you and sending you love & hugs. Keep strong my friend xxx
No wise words needed Fi. Just be there please! Love and strength to you X
Dear Lucie…I have suffered this very same setback myself this week; it was the exact 6 months since…”that day”…I can’t say the words yet. I too thought of how much I needed to hear his voice; it was raining and we loved those days… “It’s days like these when only my Husband will do. I want it to be His voice telling me everything will be OK, pet, and not to worry. I want it to be Him waiting for me when I get home, not a sideboard full of His picture” I quoted you here because this is precisely how I feel. I feel gutted; wrung out; and frantic for something of him that will calm my quaking heart…I stayed home just clasping his pillow to me and sobbing to the point I couldn’t breathe; then I remembered something he told me when I was grief-stricken over my mom 2 years ago. He said, ” don’t be sad; your mom will feel like she’s causing you pain and can’t do anything about it: she’s free now and you should feel her joy and the peace she now has” He hadn’t himself really experienced that kind of loss, but he put it in perspective by saying ” if you saw your child in turmoil and grief after you had died, how would you feel seeing them in such pain, and you were unable to reach out to comfort them?” I try to remember that; but some days…even that won’t help; you just have to ride it out…Glad you are feeling a little better; I am too ❤ Cathy
Hi Cathy, thanks so much for reading and commenting. It’s been a funny old week – in a totally unfunny kind of way, of course – but it is somewhat comforting to know others out there are going through the same range of bewildering emotions. That is the conclusion I’ve come to also: some days you have to just ride it out, and hope, hope, and believe, that things will stabilise once more. I have been repeating that mantra and sure enough, today the sun is shining, and I am not feeling the desperation of last week. Until the next time, friend…. Much love and strength (take the strength from me whilst I’ve got it to give!) XX