If Truth Be Told

It has been nearly two months since I've written. I'd like to say that this was intentional, that I took a break to gather my thoughts or to have a creative hiatus, but that's not true. I simply couldn't write. I didn't have the energy. I didn't have the focus. Frankly, I couldn't be bothered. It wasn't for the want of trying. I have ideas. I have topics. I have issues to address, I really have issues that I need to address but I just didn't have the energy to do it. And that is essentially the heart of the problem. Writing is almost like a metaphor for how I'm feeling. It is a struggle to write because, in essence, struggling is what I am doing. Or was. It's hard to say it out loud and to make it public, because despite my outward signs of coping, I wasn't. You'll notice I'm using the past tense to that. While I still feel like I am still struggling, and I fundamentally always will, I also feel that I have turned a corner on that period. Or at least moved along the road a little.

I've had help. 

I've needed help.

But first let me describe what it has been like recently. In isolation most of the worries I have are simply the same worries that every parent has. I don't know why they snowballed in my mind, but they did. Collectively, everything just felt that little bit heavier than usual. I felt that sometimes I was being short with the kids. I hate that when I snap or even moan at them for the littlest of things. I always hear myself doing it and there's a voice inside, probably Laura's, telling me to calm down, that they are just doing what kids do. It was the overthinking afterwards that was the real issue. I would feel that I should have dealt with some situations better and in turn that would make me feel guilty and incredibly sad and annoyed with myself. I would struggle to break out of this loop. These feelings would linger long after the kids had gotten over the episode and had moved on. I still do it now but I'm trying not to linger on it so much as that feeling of guilt can be crippling.

The other part of it is just everyday stuff. Housework, shopping, finances and organising that same every day stuff, etc. Generally life. It is no coincidence that I've stopped writing since I've started working again. I got myself a job at the kids school. It's only an hour and half, Monday to Friday and as much as I love it and benefit from it mentally, it is right in the middle of the day and has totally thrown whatever routine I had been building over the last year. So I have less time to try get on top of the things I was already struggling to get on top of. I have never felt so exhausted. Even when I was working 6 days a week, shift work, sometimes with only a few hours sleep between shifts, I used to just power through. There are times now that I'm afraid to sit down as I struggle to get back up. I've been fighting this now though and I let myself sit and try not to stress about the things that I should be doing instead of having a rest.

So I asked for help. Professional help. I organised a session with a bereavement counsellor. It was a major step for me. It's a major step for anyone I guess. There is just so much stigma attached. I had to admit to myself that I'm not coping. And now I'm saying that out loud, or writing it down at least. I am no stranger to this.

The advice I was given is fairly obvious and basically I knew most of it already, or I had some idea about it, just not the actual professional terms or methods. What I didn't know was that people often find the second year is the worse or at the very least, harder. The first year is endless admin and finding your feet, all done in a seemingly endless haze. Feelings are often pushed to the side as we are immersed in finding how to live and adjust without the most important part of our lives, a irreplaceable missing part, a scale that was previously unknowingly perfectly balanced. In the second year, reality bites. In the second year I now realise that this is all very real and this road I am on, we are on, isn't actually a brightly lit road with the occasional hill and pretty scenery, lined with people ready to help direct me at a moments notice; it's an obstacle course. An ever changing obstacle course and some parts of it are so dimly lit that it's hard to see what's ahead, or beside, or behind. The hardest part of the last 18 months, and there have been many hard parts, is striving to keep things as normal as possible for the kids. I have been focused on trying to keep some semblance of continuation, to make it seem to them that nothing has really changed. Only it has. Everything has changed. And I need to recognise that more. I've been trying to hit the standards of a woman whose standards were incredibly high. I have had to admit to myself that this is impossible. It was hard enough when she was here but on my own I've given myself an unachievable task and worse, I've judged myself on it. I've actually set myself up to fail. So the advice is to change that. It won't happen overnight but I need to try to start doing things my way. I can still accomplish tasks with one eye on how Laura would have done it but I need to give myself a target that I can actually achieve. The counsellor also advised me to start leading my life again. I find it difficult to focus on me at all at times. There are occasions when I actually forget me. For example, I'll think about what they will eat for the week and it's only when I'm about to make a meal, I remember I haven't got anything for me! I haven't a clue what form this "me" will take as it's a challenge to find the actual me time but just thinking about it is the first step to doing. I don't know if I can but I said I will try and that's as good as it gets at the moment.

I was actually given similar advice from a good friend who is also fighting his own battle with cancer, successfully I hasten to add. He said these very words: 

You need to stop living up to your internal expectations. You are all over this in a good way. And you need to start taking the foot off the gas, for your own sake. You are a good man and have nothing to prove to anyone. But I get it, to a point: am I good enough dad? Yes you fucking are. 

The sentiment still draws tears to my eyes now. Am I good enough? I need to be and therefore I will be. It's all I can be. I'll still get annoyed at myself if I procrastinate and for not getting things done and I still huff and puff at the kids and hate myself for doing it. But what have I learned? I have learned that it's okay to change and no one is judging me except me. I'll now have to take the chance that they'll actually remember all the good things and only occasionally remember that the housework wasn't done, how I moaned at them for being children or how I was just too tired to give them attention on a particular occasion. I need to start leading my life and giving myself a break every so often. I know this will be a challenge as it's hard to actually put myself on any sort of level billing with the kids but Laura told me, and I've said this before, "I know you will always do the right thing by the kids." 

I have also said this before, I just need to remind myself sometimes; I am enough. What's more, we are all enough and, if truth be told, we are more than enough. 

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