Hospitals and flashbacks

This evening I left mum in the hospital where my father died. She's having her first hip replacement in the morning. She's scared about the anaesthetic.

It seems so routine after all we've been through these last years, but it's left me wobbly.

It was strange being back there, and hard to realise quite how tense and stressful and sad these years have been. After leaving mum tonight I wonder how did I ever get used to leaving my father there?

She's on her own, scared and worried and strange surroundings. Logically, I know she'll be fine. But, but...there's always that nagging doubt.

I didn't know how worried I was, am, and I'm left surprised. I thought I'd become numb to hospitals and sickness, perhaps I had. Having a few months' break has undone that resolve.

Questions rattle round my head. What if something happens? What if these were my last words to her? What if it's not ok? I should have said...

I just need to ride it out and know that I'll relax tomorrow once I've made the lunchtime call to check all is well.

I love her and want her to be ok.

Torn.

I'm sitting here crossed legged on the sofa, in clothes that are a comfort blanket, the television's blaring in the corner and its banality washes over me. I sit down to write because I don;t know what else to do. I don't know what I want to say. Whatever arrives on these pages will come from hands and heart, and I will try not to self edit. I need to write this, whatever 'this' is.


My head has been full of you this weekend. A late night call, an hour passed in seconds. In chatter and smiling and remembering fathers and in just being. Remotely.

If the past years have taught me anything, it's that being selfish and putting oneself first – living with integrity – is the thing that matters. It matters because it makes us happy. It matters because without it we can't give others happiness. I am typing because I need to look after me. I don't find it easy (Selfish - A Question).

Tonight I was excited to see you and torn. Tonight I walk away from my plans because I need to say what I need to say to you. I need to say that I don't know what to do. I need to say that I want it to stop, but I also want it more than anything.

You have a life and demons, and I have mine. Between us there is something simple.

I don't want to feel guilty, conflicted.

I want to sit with you forehead to forehead, breathing you.

All logic dictates that I should cut you off. If it were uncomplicated lust, that would be easy. We do not indulge the physical. I don't know how to let you go, but I do know that I will not come to you.

When this first started – did it start? - I just thought this was the straying eye of a man ensconced, looking to reclaim a bit of independence, soothe himself. But more than a year down the line I know it's not this. It has grown strong. I try so hard to walk away. Sometimes I can't.

I fail to make a point this evening, I just waffle words that have no direction. All do is share my internal debate. It doesn't help.

You need to figure out what it is that you want. You need to do that for yourself. I want you to be happy.

My head is full of the words of W.H. Auden. Odd what springs to mind when one's own words are not enough, too much.

I want so much to not to need you, miss you.

I type the words 'I love you' and delete them. Type, fight, delete. Type, fight, delete. Fuck.

I want to find the courage to figure out what I need. I want to be happy.

I wish that you would wrap me in your arms and keep me there, safe.

I want to lie with my head on your chest and listen to your heart beat. I want to feel your weight on me. I want this to be ordinary.

I want not to fight my feelings.

I will not ask you anything, or for anything.

Time will tell us the answer.

Reluctant Freedom

I moved back to my home city four and half years ago to help care for and support my parents. This wasn't the selfless act it perhaps seems, I was simply exhausted and time poor from travelling back and forwards between two cities too often. My organisation had an office here, and a transfer was possible without impacting my job.

Since I came home, my entire routine has been defined by hospital visiting or caring. With one parent still needing support, those circumstances are still partly true. But, with one now gone, the load has lifted significantly.

Suddenly, I have time. I am not bound by visiting hours. My mother is well and able enough for my sister and I both to be away at the same time without having to coordinate our every move.

I miss Dad, but I'm also finding a freedom. Freedom to chose how I spend my time. I'm also finding that I'm not very good at just stopping. Until a month ago, a duty-less evening or a day of nothing was a rare treat. And one spent just catching up with the basics and resting. Now, I have time.

I have to redefine my existence here. I have to find a routine and life of my own. I'm taking small steps towards just 'hanging out' and have aimless days or evenings. These things still are tinged by a nagging sense that I should be doing something, be somewhere else. There is a lingering guilt. A sadness that I'm enjoying some space only because my Dad has gone.

I'm still grieving, but beginning to allow myself to be a little excited about anticipating a future that belongs to me.

The biggest thing I need to do is learn to relax, and learn that I no longer need to plan every movement.

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PS there are words emerging in my head about the impact these last years have had on my relationships and friendships. I'm writing this to remind myself that it's a post I need to write.

Badly behaved.

On Friday night I did something that happens more often than I like. I got drunk. There, I said it.

I went to the pub. Tired, stressed, pissed off. The drinks flowed, and we were still there at closing. A friend owns the pub, so the doors were locked and on we sat. Talking nonsense.

I shared a cab home with two friends which somehow turned into a night cap in the one who is my neighbour's house.

Of the two of them, one I know well, the other not so well. The one I don't know so well, told me he 'fancies' me. This was a bolt from the blue. Particularly as, by that time, he'd been offered my spare room. I suspect it was beer talking, He came back to mine, played guitar, chatted. I remember him trying to kiss me, I remember saying it wasn't what I wanted, but he was ok to crash with me. I woke up yesterday morning with a very sore head and someone in my house.

My recollections of what happened are very hazy, at best. I feel ashamed and stressed by it.

I'm paranoid that I've let something slip that I shouldn't. Now, I don't know if I have or haven't. Maybe I am just being paranoid, It hate it that I drank that much, I hate that I behaved that way, I hate it that I'm not sure of the turn of events.

Either way, it makes me feel humiliated and worried.

Why do I do this to myself? I hate it. It's not healthy. Maybe I need to step away from these folk for a while. There's always someone who drinks too much.

I'm feeling paranoid whilst forgetting that all those in my company were behaving in the same way as me. Why we do always feel like we're the only one?

Nonetheless, how I'm feeling is compounded by the fact I haven't slept through a whole night for about two weeks now. Too much going on at work and in my head.

Anyway, I just need to off load some of my shame here in the hope that emptying my head of some it will help me sleep tonight. I have a huge day at work tomorrow and somehow I must find a way of switching off my brain and finding some rest.

Invasion

Mouse, well probably mice, have invaded my drawer of baking and dried goods (like noodles, flour, sugar and spices bought in bulk- useful store cupboard things I've built up over a long period and will resent replacing!). I am p***ed off and fearful in equal measure! I know the mouse/mice are probably more scared of me than I am of them. I've had lots of helpful advice from friends, which is greatly appreciated, but I'm struggling to put it into action.

I hate that my house has been invaded. Spiders are bad enough, but mice? Not good.

Mostly, I'm quite content living on my own. I manage to do most things by myself. I can paint rooms, hang curtains and have my own electric drill but occasionally I hate it. This is most definitely one of those occasions.

Did I bring a creature home with me from my camping trip, or is there a wee hole somewhere and the colder nights have tempted them into my warm home? I'm just hoping and praying its just a cunning visitor, not a whole family....argh!

There is a single drawer where packets have been chewed through and a drawer of plastic storage containers that shows evidence that they've passed through there too. I've washed out most of the plastic containers and will finish the rest tomorrow but I just haven't quite rustled up the courage to tackle the drawer. I suspect wellies and rubber gloves may be required for me to take the next step.

I cope with so much, and survive well enough on my own. But sometimes I resent it. Sometimes, often, it just makes me sad. Sometimes, I just want someone else to say it'll be ok. Sometimes, I am lonely.

Mostly, I am ok.

Today I just want someone, anyone, to help me be braver and who'll check the drawer has no residents before I chuck everything out. Instead I'm feeling like a ridiculously daft girl who's procrastinating about something that just needs dealt with.

I want my house back.

A little composure

Ok, time to pull myself together and and acknowledge that a panic is simply that and it will pass. It is passing, helped very much by the wise and kind words of others who have taken the time to share with me. Thank you. You know who you are!


I am nervous about seeing him. But, I am seeing him tomorrow.

The last night we spent together pressed too many of my buttons It was not his fault but simply what goes on my head. Old wounds twinging and sending me into a tail spin.

When I saw him last weekend, we had both had other commitments and met at his house afterwards, taking advantage of me being in the same city for the evening. It was lovely, but come Sunday morning it felt like some kind of 'booty call' (for want of a better phrase!!). We hadn't spent the evening together, just the night. Albeit he'd made efforts to plan a lovely breakfast and we enjoyed a lazy morning.

It put me right back to that place of feeling that 'something is better than nothing', that devalues me, where I allow myself to accept crumbs from the table, where I allow myself to be led on because I don't feel like I don't deserve any better. I know this is a fallacy, but it takes me huge efforts to remind myself that I am not that person any more.

None of it is helped by me recently allowing an ex to take advantage me (there is only so often you can brush someone off, knowing it is dangerous territory, when the their words and actions make you feel wanted and attractive), lead me on, and ultimately destroy our friendship. He knew my weaknesses and disregarded them all. What's worse is that I let him, even apologising for being angry with him when I had every right to be.

David has done nothing wrong. There was absolutely no evidence to suggest that I was only there to entertain him, but that sinking feeling overwhelmed me and I tried to remain composed but succeeded only achieving an odd mood, which he picked up on. I was so pissed off and shocked at my reaction to it all that I cried all the way home in my car. I wasn't upset with him, but at all the situations in my past that had led me to that place.

I apologised by text when I got home for being a bit odd, and told him that there's perhaps some stuff I need to share with him next time. That time has come. The time where I let him see what's on the inside and hope that he finds something he likes. At least I will be honest and allow myself to be vulnerable. This will be a huge achievement no matter the outcome.

Wish me luck....

Being Bridget again....

Ok, I hate this. I do fine with the the first few dates, but it's the bit after I despise. The bit where you don't know each other well enough to have an idea of where things stand, or whether they are a boyfriend or not. The bit when you just want to get over that next hurdle and agree that you are in a relationship. But, it's also the bit where you don't want to rush into the next bit, and be smart, take it slow blah, blah, blah......


I am in panic mode about it all at the moment. David is lovely and I want this to go somewhere, I want to be smart about it. I am also panicking that it's now Wednesday and we haven't been in touch since Sunday. I initiated a brief text message exchange today, just to say 'Hi', but now panicking that even this casual exchange will suggest that I am needy. Another invitation is yet to arrive. None of which is helped by the fact that he is away this week, and lives in a city an hour away so a casual drink or lunch isn't an option.

I am panicking that it's all going to come crumbling down around my ears. There is no evidence that this is the case, but some old wounds left me behaving slightly oddly at the weekend. I am panicking that I have imagined that we are having a good time.

I am panicking that he won't call, won't make a plan, won't want me. All that awful stuff that we do. I know I need to exercise patience. I know I need to carry on doing the things I do regardless and see what happens but I worry that I will betray myself by not being patient.

The dating advice of others just confounds it all. There are rules: rules to be broken, rules not to be broken, timings to follow, games to be played, who invents these things and who should we listen to?

I am panicking because of the core belief that tells me I am unloveable and unworthy. I know it is simply that, a belief rather than reality, but that part of me can be a very strong voice at times.

I must take a deep, deep breath and think positive. How? F**k.