I’m like the river not too far from my house. The worst of the storm has passed, but the river is riding high - the water is just below the bridge level. It won’t take much to make the water rise up over the bridge, and wash it away. I can’t concentrate on anything remotely requiring a thoughtful, considered decision or response. I tried to prep my sourdough starter to bake some bread, thinking that the physicality of kneading bread would help - instead, I ended up killing my starter. I baked it accidentally. (After feeding it, because the house was so cold, I thought I’d put it in the warming drawer cos that’s a nice warm spot, right?) Why? Because I can’t think straight about anything that requires a thoughtful or considered decision. I went shopping, to just get “a few things” - I even had a list! - and ended up spending far more than was necessary, because I couldn’t make appropriate choices. Actually, I’m surprised I didn’t spend more on comfort items and food. People have been messaging me all day, and all I can respond with is “thanks”, because I don’t have the energy to think of anything more appropriate to say. I misread an email about my son’s aftercare, so left him stranded at school (and got yelled at by the principal for doing so). I forgot my daughter’s orthodontist appoinment yesterday, and then nearly forgot her rescheduled one today (fortunately for me, they had a staff member who tested positive, so called me to cancel the appt an hour beforehand - saved by the bell, what?) I could go. There’s a long list of decisions not made, or bad decisions made, or just the general inability to think straight about anything for the past 2 days.
And then it hit me - I’m grieving. These emotions are not just guilt about moving my mother into an institution. This is full blown grief: grief for the woman who birthed me and raised me, and now is no longer herself; grief for the broken promises; grief for the lost relationship; grief for the fact that, because of level 3 lockdown, I can’t even go to visit and give her a hug; grief for the fear and anxiety she is feeling in her new environment, that she can’t adequately express because she no longer has that capacity; grief for the role reversal and having to be the adult who carries the can...
Having lost my daughter 13 years ago, grief is a familiar companion, an odd sort of friend. I would love there to be a quick fix, a quick way to lower the level of the water flowing under the bridge, an outlet for my grief that would allow this pain to dissipate quickly. Experience tells me that time won’t heal this wound, but it will make it easier to live with. There are now 2 gaping holes in the floor of my internal living room - one I’m very used to walking around rather than falling into. In time I’ll learn to walk around this new one too. And, again, as I’ve learnt, I will have good days where I won’t fall in at all, and other days where I will fall in a lot. Such is the nature of grief.
And I recall that I don’t need to have the energy to see people or talk to them. I don’t need to have the words to say. I don’t need to be able to make decisions. I don’t need to get my **** together. It’s okay to not be okay. This too shall pass.
Lord alone knows what I’m going to teach my matrics tomorrow - because I haven’t prepped a lesson for them, because I don’t have the energy to do that.. Thank God for years of experience - I know that I’ve got this. I am good at flying by the seat of my pants, and so I’m not worried about tomorrow’s lesson. I’m more worried about the hours I’m not teaching, but have to be at school. Being alone in my office is not going to be good for me, but neither is being with others that I really have no energy for. Maybe I’ll give myself permission to read at work, to take a book and escape into that for a few hours. (Maybe I’’ll even try prepping a proper lesson!)
