Sometimes, you get taken right back to square one. Or maybe square three.

Today started okay, I had every intention to do a few errands, go for a walk, get outside. And then, out of nowhere, one too many errands is just too much. These errands were only at home ones too. Hardly difficult.

I’ve said it before, but grief is so physical. It’s like today, I was doing the washing up and then someone just attacks me, from behind, into a strangle hold. We’ll call this person Mr Grief. So I use all the effort I have to repeatedly smack this person with a mean right hook, constantly until Mr Grief goes away. On most days this will work. I manage to knock Mr Grief out, and place him in a heap under the stairs. He’s still here, in my home, but I’m in control and he can’t attack me anymore.

But today, it’s like I’ve used all my energy in all my muscles to keep him under the stairs, that today, I have nothing. Today, I’m half heartedly attempting a bitch slap. With one hand. My left one.

So Mr Grief absolutely has the control. No amount of deep breathing and happy thoughts restores power to my muscles. He hits me in the face until I’m on the floor. And then stomach kicks me. Over and over. Until my only response is to pass out. I think this was me by lunch time. When the wife came home and I was just staring, unable to convince myself to get up and do anything that I should be doing.

Seeming as Mr Grief has knocked me out, I’m able to use this time to gather up some energy & dig deep. This was me, sat with Leo’s flowers in the garden and the sun shining. Some slight reprieve to consider how the hell are we two months to the day that Leo died already? To wonder if it feels like a long time or no time at all? To try and work out how to wake up from all of this? Is this actually genuinely real life then? This isn’t just a dream I’ve been dreaming since Thursday 14th January 2016, approx midday?

A calmer peace and some sleep regains control on Mr Grief. Slowly I can trip him up from the floor. Then my wife can attack him with the saucepan & some cheesecake. And I stand up. Thinking, right now is the time I can show Mr Grief that I’m capable of defeating him. Of not letting him take the whole day from me.

And then something else happens. KO. Anger. I’m silently screaming at Mr Grief: Out of everyone, why us? Why Leo? So many people have babies, why us? We don’t deserve this! Who deserves this!? No one deserves this! Why does this even exist as a thing? How can we fix this? How is this ever going to get better? Why can’t I just have my baby back!? 

Mr Grief hasn’t just got me. He’s got my wife. His little dodgey friends are at my families houses. Some of my friends too.

Then there’s Mr Coward who is at some other people’s houses. The kind of people who think liking an image on Facebook is all the support I need – they are now excused from contacting me. That small action just uses Mr Coward to slap Mr Guilt in the face. Yet, a slap does very little to Mr Guilt, he barely wobbles! And me and Mr Grief over here, miles away? We don’t give a shit about Facebook likes on some post we put up. Not even a new fangled Facebook Love can give me any more strength to attack Mr Grief. So, Mr Grief is slowly taking away not just Leo, but friends I should imagine too. Friends I don’t want anything to do with, if this situation is ‘too hard’ for them, then I’ll let them have their Facebook Like and I’ll throw fuck off, I don’t care, my baby died right back at them. And that can be that.

So, yeah, not feeling it today really.

Didn’t mean to worry anyone on my Instagram. Just need to get it out sometimes.

One thought on “Mr. Grief

  1. I felt each and every word, Momma. Felt it in my bones, and could feel my own Mr Grief laughing sarcastically in his corner from today. And I am totally with you on Mr Coward. Yes, Mr Coward can fuck off!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.