Facing facts

I seem to be suffering from ‘writer’s block’ or maybe it’s just the prevailing empty numbness on the periphery of my unconscious mind. Certainly writing has lost its appeal, without Ken my stories seem just of everyday life which I doubt are particularly interesting to you readers.

I’ve a few things in the pipeline, but they aren’t yet for public consumption so I’ll have to wait to share and the grandkids of course are brilliant distractions but also keep me focused.

This week my emotions have been anything but stable. Ken’s birthday was a difficult day for all of us, but we came out at the other side as always trying hard to remember the positives; which in a way makes things even harder because we want what we should have had and can’t get back.

Every where I look I see retired couples enjoying their time. More than ever I realise I have to get used to my solo life, and make changes to the way I feel. I’m pushing hard to convince myself I’m okay but I want to be better than that.

One piece of good advice I was once given was ‘only take advice from people whose lives you like’. Be selective, for instance take advice on relationships from people who have good relationships; take advice on investing from people who have successfully invested their own money, and now learn from others who have experienced grief and learnt to live well with loss.

My support network is changing, I’m officially a widow now not a carer, and that means infiltrating other groups. The WI seems to be full of ladies in my situation and of course I have now officially joined the tribe of too many friends who are also dementia widows.

Tonight I’m taking a big step towards really getting in touch with my suppressed emotions. The ones I’ve kept locked away somewhere deep.

I’m having my first ever one to one bereavement counselling session, which quite frankly fills me with dread. It’ll be interesting how I react though, will I need the tissues or be defensive to protect myself, I just don’t know.

I remember all the time Ken spent in therapy through his depression and early stage dementia. He never really spoke much about it so I’m really not sure what to expect. What I did find however was that I did have to pick up the pieces after particularly difficult sessions and sometimes he felt the need to do physical work (He once climbed up the copper beech to get rid of some Ivy) saying he wanted to do something dangerous, to release endorphins and replenish I suppose

Mental energy may not use many calories but is exhausting all the same, will I feel better or will I feel worse?

I think the best I can do is to be honest, and more importantly be honest to myself.