I have been feeling pretty sorted in recent months. Strong enough to stop going to counselling, in a new job, all horrific tax, finance and probate settled, a short term plan to help me stay in my home, possessions dealt with, eating and sleeping normally. Yet in the back of my mind the suspicion lurked, what if it is all a front? What if I am not really sorted at all, just better at compartmentalising? What might open the box and send me unraveling back to the start? Do not pass go, do not collect £200.
The late bad weather masked the start of spring, and so the start of a dreaded run of anniversaries snuck up on me. Mr D's birthday on Saturday, closely followed by the date of death, our 20th wedding anniversary, and of course the funeral. I can barely believe it is almost a year. It feels like a dream, something that happened to someone else. Yet every time I open my calendar to book a meeting, haircut, rehearsal, anything; one of these dates slaps me in the face. I had been doing OK, yet somehow my brain and body are conspiring to drag me back. The old feelings are returning as I think “this day last year...”. I really hope I can stay strong over the next four weeks. I can’t afford to undo all the hard work I have done, I have to survive. As someone said to me recently; don’t put yourself through it, you have probably suffered enough already...
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