I had a meltdown yesterday. After a foggy few weeks of terrible flu I came to and found myself discombobulated. More than out sorts: beyond myself. Broken. Brittle and unreasonable. Blessed with the kind of violent energy that had me screeching about milk bottles, stripping beds and cleaning the fridge out as if my life depended on it.
At the heart of my hysteria? Some sort of overwhelming sense of loss that had me blubbing “I want my life back!” over and over again, though I know not what the life I was yearning for consisted of. A sharp word had set me off in a busy shop and it ended in a litany of grief for everything from my Mum, to what
I cried for the friends I used to have within spitting distance, for my resolve and determination, now so crippled with doubt, for the woman with the glint in her smoky eyes that I once was. I cried because I don’t know what to do with myself, because I miss blogging the way blogging used to be, because my eyes blur now when I’m tired and life seems to be one long round of food and box-sets and worry and guilt. I cried because sleep evades me and I’m exhausted chasing it. Because last week when I was ill I felt guilty twenty-four hours a day. For all the things I wasn’t doing. I cried for my fertility and sexuality. For my dog and my Dad down the other end of the country. For Marks brother who sits in hospital now with a huge hole in his head. Fresh air where his skull used to be. For my cousin who died last week after a life so sad I cannot bear to think of it. For the funeral we will attend in his honor. For the homework I worried Finley hadn’t done (he had – of course he had), the weekend away I will have to cancel and the bed I knew wasn’t made up and thus not available to fall into and sob.
I grieved out loud for Fridays with my Mum. For not being scared of writing my truth. For my sense of humor. For the writer I was before
I blamed myself. Because Ste said I have to be the change and that made me feel tired. Because I was scared to write this down and post it here today because I want you to think that I am always strong – that I have got it all in the
I have to be the change. Perhaps he is right. But sometimes the kind of fierce independence that has got me to where I am now needs be hushed so that I can hear the wisdom in other voices. Sometimes it might help to stand stock still and say can you help me? Will you show me where I got lost and how I can get back on my own path and will you remind me who I used to be and where I go from here?
You see, I want my life back but I’m not sure where to begin and I am scared now of all change for it is perhaps it is so much change that has brought me to this point and gratitude for what is, instead of grief for what was, might just be the answer instead.
Gratitude is probably always the answer isn’t it? But sometimes a fierce, rip-roaring meltdown does the trick too. Storm Brian had nothing on me.
Thank-you as always for listening. I am away to fashion turkey mince in to meatballs because life goes on and dinner must be made and there is always work to do.