Friday, 20 November 2009

Sniff sniff cluck cluck grief sniff



Oh my oh my. I am, quite frankly, suprised I can even see the screen for snot and tears.

I was caught yesterday, totally by suprise, by my sister in law. The one who was married to my late brother. She wrote to tell me of the amazing talent of my nephew, my brothers beautiful son. Which I know he has, in spades. But it threw me totally into the most ugly ugly grief stricken sobbing. For an hour or so. Not pretty.

(Actually, sobbing sounds like it might be pretty. It was more like gulping and loud howling from within, which reminded me of the primevil sounds I made during each of my labours. Accompanied by copious amounts of snot.)

Which is a nice segue to my emotional cluckiness. I have 2 gorgeous friends who are due their babies in the new year. One is onto number 3, and another onto number 4. Another couple of friends are expecting number 2. Lovely Loreena is expecting her first.

I then had a call yesterday from another friend who is 17 weeks pregnant with her number 3.

I am truly overjoyed. (To the point that I had a little happy cry in Kmart as she told me!)

But I cannot deny: I am clucky. Bad hormones. Raging to be pregnant again. Itching to give birth again. Desparate to hold a newborn of my making at my boob.

I know it is mad. I know it is impossible. (Literally, physically impossible. A vascectomy and early onset menopause make it impossible.) But I just cannot help being clucky. Crazy, I know.

Then, to add even more snot to the blubbering mess, I ended up chatting to my trainer (who should be a councellor too, incidentally) and we ended up talking about Mum........oh and didn't that open the heavens. She asked me: if you feel you have been parenting your Mum since you where 12, you need to ask that 12 year old girl what she missed out on then, and give it to yourself now. Far out. Easier said that digested.

I have so much to "deal with". I feel like I am being asked to drag myself through concrete. I secretly know it will be worth it. I am just too full of snot. I don't have the brain space. Nor the time.





So, all in all, these things make me tired. Emotionally tired. I feel like a wrung out dishcloth to be honest.

But all these things that make me cry: the grief, the cluckiness, the fears over Mum, the need to take care of myself......despite them all, I am still kind of happy and not depressed. How does that work?

On the one hand I think "Ah, bugger it, this too will pass". But deep down, I think I kind of know that "This too will pass" is simply a mechanism to avoid dealing. And for as long as I avoid dealing with this type of shite, the more regularly this shite will just cause a stumbling block.

Ohhhhhh, I dunno. it is so tempting to just ignore it all and play Jungle Jewels.
We shall see.

1 comment:

  1. Oh gorgeous Lucy, I just saw this post. I'm not sure I have the right words to say right now but just know that I am thinking of you and hoping that today is a better day than when this was posted.

    Take care my sweet, you know where you can find me if you need to chat xx

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