Grieving for the end of an era…

Anyone who has experienced the sudden loss of a person that they love will know how grief feels.

They will know the feeling of waking each day and being in whatever their range of normality is and then sudden remembrance that the person is gone.

That is how I’m waking each day and yet I haven’t lost anybody. My family and friends are all intact and in their rightful places – none of them have been lost to me.

It’s definitely a grieving because I’m doing that thing – a memory comes upon you and you smile just as the gut wrenching sorrow kicks you in the heart and it is your life that seems to have ended.

Except my smiles are not linked to memories and the gut wrenching kicks to my heart appear to be a spiteful and deadly illness attacking me once again.

I can’t eat much – I’m getting hungry but it’s hard to eat and the hunger fades as quickly as it arrives. I drink tea and coffee and have enough food to keep ticking over and my the figures on my scales are lower every time I stand on them. It’s not known as the heartbreak diet for nothing.

I’ve bought a gorgeous new knife and I’ve yet to use it because it would feel like a glorious celebration amidst a deep sorrow. I don’t want it to be the comedian at the funeral.

I am grieving yet no-one is lost to me.

Last month I spent time away then came back to three weeks of chaos while my kitchen was refurbished. My dog was incredibly stressed out and with a toe that seemed certain to be amputated.

I was becoming increasing unstable (damn you bipolar disorder, damn you) and had made the decision to take breaks away from my life but not to travel and have overnight stays for the next few years. It’s a big change but one I need to make. I’m looking forward to the first group of trips I’m doing in May and one of the days I’m visiting at least one place I’ve never visited before. Ogden will still get his boy time with Rob and that keeps him happy.

I am revoking the Lasting Power of Attorney which was put in place seven years ago when I was incapable of looking after myself. Today I’m still not that capable when it comes to coping but I manage my illness just enough to keep me floating.

I have stopped doing the voluntary work that I’ve been doing (writing about charities for a community website) which is both sad and a relief. Writing is hard work and writing about charities is draining.

The grief is about leaving a part of my life behind and starting a different part. I’m moving away from what was once positive and has become less so and adapting and shaping my life into what I need it to be in order to stay sort of well and not very ill.

I am, in a way, grieving for me. I am grieving for my life and have yet to be excited about the new one. I’m going to write in big letters on a whiteboard “YOU WILL BE ABLE TO TAKE MORE PHOTOS AND WRITE MORE DRIVEL.”

Onwards with trepidation, anxiety but hope.