Power over Life & Death

As I look up from my laptop, I take a moment to watch my cat. He’s on guard duty, surveying his domain from the perch of the windowsill. I don’t know what he sees, whether he’s given any thought about what he’s doing. I only see the odd head movement he makes as he catches a leaf drifting passed. I only know when he’s sees a bird, because he makes the chirping sound of a frustrated hunter. When he sees another cat there is a blur of brown fur as he zooms across the room to the cat flap. What he thinks and feels is a puzzle, but I bet it’s a lot more simpler than the complexities of the human mind.

Simpler would be nice as I return to reflecting on the year just passed. I’ve not done much journaling of late, so I’m trying to put my thoughts and emotions in some sort of order, to gain some clarity for the new year. I’ve been disappearing into a fantasy world these last few months. Writing fiction is my escapism when reality gets too hard and opting to this safe place, where I’m in control, is far easier to deal with.

I’m glad to see the back of 2023 as there was never a pause to take a breath. The health of my parents was paramount, which led to burnout as I tried to take charge. At the time I didn’t realise what I was doing, and that I don’t have the power to control or change what life dishes out.

At this time of year my thoughts go back to Simon. This will always happen, no matter how much time has gone. I found myself thinking about the 1st January 2017. I can still remember the room as I walked in, it was quiet, sterile and completely surreal. This was different from the noise of machines and people during his final days. I touched his warm body and I knew his turmoil was over. I whispered to him that it was alright, he could go now.

I should have known back then I didn’t have any power over life and death, but when it’s someone you love then you will do all you can to keep them alive. It’s not ego or arrogance at play but a deep belief I can stop bad things from happening to others if I take the burden off them. Thinking I had the ability to prevent or even change major life events and failing, only created a feeling of helplessness. It’s this I’ve been carrying ever since, that it’s my responsibility to keep those I love safe and happy. It took a stranger to say, You don’t have that kind of power.

New Year weekend at work was busy as there was a large amount of people who needed help. Some I found frustrating, as no matter what you did it wasn’t enough. Then I took a call and straight away I knew something was really wrong. Before I has a chance to get their names, I’d already began to instruct a woman in giving CPR on her husband. She rang because she couldn’t wake him. She thought he was snoring, but even when giving compression he remained unresponsive. The snoring was more likely to be agonal breathing, which is not good news. The paramedics were there within minutes and my part was done.

I hope I made a difference to their lives. Keeping Simon alive whilst waiting for help to come was the most terrifying situation I’ve ever been in. I had no control over what was happening to him, but I did have a certain level of ability to do what I could to help him. I’ve never put this in to content before, knowing the difference between doing your best to help, rather than taking full responsibility for what happens to others.

It’s going to take time for me to realise I don’t have that level of power, so until it fully sinks in I’m not going to beat myself up for not doing more, for not spotting the signs, for not having the ability to prevent his death. I’m just one human on this very vast planet, but hopefully I do make a difference to the lives of those around me, and with whom I come into contact with.

I don’t do New Year Resolutions as to me they’re only good intentions which are either broken or not follow through. I do, however, have a few New Year Eve traditions and these little acts give me the comfort I need to prepare for year ahead.

It doesn’t help to dwell on what has gone, and who is no longer here but we can remember absent friends & loved ones with fondness, and hold them in our hearts.

Simon,

I remember you with love

You are never forgotten

Love your hermit

xxx

Individual You

Dear Simon,

It’s getting to the time of year when my thoughts turn to you. In fairness you’re never far from my mind when it’s a frosty winter’s morning and I’m all wrapped up in a scarf, hat and gloves. Your presence is with me when the first buds appear on the trees and birdsong is spring excitement. I’m reminded of you when the red summer sun is slowly setting in the blue sky, another long day done. But it is Autumn which hits me the most, with its crisp mornings, the nights drawing in and a feeling of wanting to hibernate.

As spiders spin their webs that sparkle in the morning dew, and the squirrels frantically bury as many acorns as they can, unaware they won’t find them all, I find myself smiling at autumn’s beauty once again. I’m here to experience the trees changing from green to red brown, and I try not to feel the sadness which comes with knowing you’re no longer here to see it. I really appreciate, after grieving for 5.5 years, that life is valuable and precious, but it’s also cruel when it decides to stops. I’m not sure if I’ve made complete peace with death as it took you away from me too early. I’ve accepted it only in the terms of the grieving process, but it is and always will be unfair.

I had a flash of a memory of you the other day and it literally stopped me dead in my tracks. In the memory you were expressing your love for me in the silly way you did, which included you moving around the room with your arms out stretched. Remembering it took my breath away and in that moment my body ached for you. Not in the same touch deprived intensity when I first lost you, but missing individual you, your touch and your laughter. It was missing how special you made me feel with just your eyes. It was us both wrapping up in warm clothing and heading into the autumn trees, sharing this season with all its browns and golds. It was, for a brief moment, feeling you in the room but within seconds you were gone again. The warm and loving memory is replaced with a dull emptiness when reality strikes.

I pause…

As suddenly guilt comes after expressing loss. I’m putting all this on you and it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t cause me miss you and you didn’t choose I go into this autumn without you. As quick as I pour out my grief I want to cover it up with words of joy.

So I will.

I am happy and grateful. I’m experience life and it’s so much fun. I’m meeting new people and spending time with those who really matter. Solo, our naughty little cat, is still loud and constantly demanding attention. I’m safe, secure and have shelter. I’ve even danced all night, playing air guitar to Bon Jovi and drank gin until the early hours. More importantly I am loved and I love too. Autumn will be here in a few days and already it’s cooler in the morning. Soon I’ll get my winter hats and gloves out and the fairy lights will be switched on earlier. Your cider apples trees are doing well. Not sure if I’m ready for the summer to end but I can’t stop it moving on. It is with smiles for life and sadness to do it without you, wonderful individual you.

Simon

I’ll make cider and call it Si D’oh

Love your autumn hermit

X X X

My Hero

“Forgive me if I stumble and fall for I know not how to love too well.

I am clumsy and my words do not form as I wish.

So let me kiss you instead

and let my lips paint for you all the pictures that my clumsy heart cannot.”

By Atticus

There’s no time for grief, as the earth rolls forward. I do wish my grief didn’t exist or, if possible, I’m able leave it behind. But it doesn’t work that way. It messes with my head filling it with fog and affecting decisions I make. It’s moulded onto my soul and my life has had to wrap around it.

I’ve got no choice but to take it with me. Most days I can ignore it or find a distraction. On rare occasions I don’t even mind it, but then something happens and it appears with its evil grin. The hermit in me cries out and I listen to her. I feel her pain, her anxiety to be in a world that hides from death, afraid of its role. I know some understand when the grief monster takes command but for how long will it have such an influence over me? I guess with time I’ll find out?

Last weekend I danced in a room with 80 other widows and widowers. It was full of life, people chatting, singing and dancing. They hadn’t forgot what they’d lost, far from it. We knew the only reason we were all in the same room was due to losing our partners. Our husbands, wives, boyfriends and girlfriends. We were in a place where we could feel exactly how we wanted and everyone there understood.

At one point I felt like an imposter. A fake, as I’ve been so busy moving forward in life I’ve had little time to grieve. I don’t talk to Simon like I use to and I don’t hear his voice answering back. I want be enjoy life but I also feel the love and heartbreak for Simon. I can’t ignore what once was so real and now has gone but I can’t deny myself feeling life again, no matter how hard it is for me to cope with death.

The reality of moving into my flat is here, but it comes with the many boxes of my past. The truth of seeing someone other than Simon is real, but the joy is with overwhelming mixed emotions. The diagnosis of a disease of a loved one is here. Someone who has been with me my whole life and has nurtured, supported and loved me. It’s with a heavy broken heart to know there is no cure.

Living life whilst wearing a cloak of grief is conflicting and painful. Sometimes life rules and sometimes grief wins. There is no solution to it, but if I could talk to Simon I know what he would do. He would listen to every word I say, take me in his arms and whisper,

‘Do whatever makes you happy. Love without shame and live each day as though it’s your last. You’re strong and can cope with anything, but don’t be afraid to falter. You are my hero.’

He was my strength and biggest fan. I didn’t think I could do this without him but here I am. I’ve realised that it’s not just grief I take forward but it’s the empowerment he gave me to be my own best friend.

I’m forever grateful to him for that.

Simon,

thank you

Love your hermit

x x x

 

 

Moon of Dreams

It’s 5.18am.

It was 5.10am yesterday and 5.20am the day before that. Waking early has become such a habit that it now feels normal. The only sound I hear is a blackbird singing outside. My only company is my cat. If I’m honest I’d rather be up this early, so I can prepare for the busy world before it wakes.

A big change is coming and even though it’s exciting I also feel overwhelmed. I’m doing too much, I know. I’m like the twitching muscles fibres of the body with their ‘all or nothing’ response. I know I can’t go backwards and I can’t stay put. All I can do is move forward. It’s exciting, liberating and purposeful. It’s also scary, stressful and sad without Simon.

Every morning I get up and go about my day as though nothing has happened. This is my new normal, one of self routine and choice. But something did happen and every so often I’m caught in a moment, a glimpse of a what my life should have been, and I quiver. It can be fleeting – blink and it’s gone – or it lingers for a while until I find stable footing again.

I choose, I change, I quiver and I cope.

Yesterday the quiver became a rumble and I felt the ground beneath me shake. This has been building up for a few days, a feeling of no control and lack of confidence. To put it simply I don’t want to do this without Simon. Why the fuck should I? Oh, that’s right because death dictated that I do. Luckily I was with a friend, so we sat for a while and chatted. Then I took ‘time out’ in the place where I met Simon. I played music and I drank wine. I talked bollocks and with it the struggle with self belief disappeared.

Simon was so confident in what I could achieve that he made it seem so easy. When I was with him I could reach up, grab the moon of dreams and bring it down from space. I didn’t just lose my best friend but I also lost my mentor, my Obi One. Now all the decisions, right or wrong, are mine. It’s an independent place to be in but a scary one.

The grief monster got me yesterday and I didn’t have the strength to tell it to fuck off. It attacked me because I want a home of my own. It suck the life out of me because I want to be happy and find enjoyment. It mocked me for even thinking about liking another…

A lady sat next to me and she appeared to be a hundred and five years old. We chatted for a short while before her rum-fuelled legs tootled her out for her bus home. I watched her go and thought I could be her in a few decades time. On one hand it’s good to think I could live to her age and still be drinking rum, whilst perched on a very high stool. But on the other I thought about whether I want to live another fifty years alone, going back to an empty flat and eating my fish meal for one? I’m not saying this is an accurate depiction of this lady’s life. She may have had a partner and is now content to be on her own. I’m just too young and have too much love to spend the rest of my days alone. Besides…

Simon would want me to be happy.

Yes, he always did. He knew what to say in times of doubt. He knew how to act when I stumbled and he knew how to love me when I fell. He had faith in me and all I could achieve. I own it to him…No, I owe it to myself to be the best version of me and to lift the moon of dreams right out its black sky. I need to hold it in my hands, see it shinning and realise that its not the one that’s glowing but it’s my brilliant soul reflecting back.

Simon,

We gazed at the moon together,

and saw the possibilities life had to hold.

Now I need to do it without you

but I’ll always have the memories of your love

to show me the way.

Love Your Hermit

x x x

Not Forever

Nothing last forever,

and it’s crazy to think otherwise.

What’s even more crazy is not appreciating it

whilst it here

I miss…

My boys sleeping together on our bed, on a lazy Sunday afternoon. I miss my old home and being in our back garden, the sun glittering off the watery beck. I miss us waking up to another new day. Yet as unique as each day was, I miss the habits that shaped our routine and how each idiosyncrasy was not strange at all. I miss sharing our experiences, you being part of me and I of you. I miss your warmth touch, a kiss that sent shivers down my spine and a heartbeat that wasn’t my own.

I miss you…

I dreamt of Simon last night and it was a very mediocre dream. He had missed the bus so returned home shouting, it’s only me. I helped him work out when the next bus was and he left again. This dream was an accurate depiction of a normal moment in our life together, and it felt like putting on a comfortable old pair of slippers. Moments like this happen so fast, as life moves on to something else. Simon eventually caught the bus, he always did, but back then I would always see him later that day…

I knew it was just a dream but I still felt his absence when waking. I lay quiet, hearing his voice say, ‘it’s only me’ over and over again.  As I came round my mind then reminded me that it was a new day, but it was only mine to experience and all I had was my singular routine and self-formed habits.

Nothing last forever, I know this…

I knew it back then when Simon was alive, but I didn’t really believe that ‘not forever’ would come so soon. It was always a belief that was linked with old age. I did have an irrational fear of death, which plague me from time to time. Yet Simon would always come home – my physical breathing human being – and the assumption of death occurring would disappear…

Back then we tried to not take life for granted, but many things wasted our precious time. Moments are made up of the happy, sad, exciting and boring aspects of life, and we both got grumpy, mad, upset and frustrated with each other. Yet it’s only through death that I realise how valuable life is.

I miss Simon very much and I wish I could have just one more day with him. I would sit and watch him sleep on the bed, with our two boys. I would sit in our garden and feel the warmth of the sun, knowing he was feeling it too. It wouldn’t matter what activities we did or didn’t do, I would just spend time with him. I would soak up all his silly comments, see his unique expressions and feel his warm skin on mine…

I would do this as moment like these are not forever…

 

Forever was always part of our future,

until death arrived in our present.

I miss you,

Love your Hermit

x x x

 

The Essence of You

Dear Simon, I dreamt about you, the first in a while. We didn’t have much time, but I’ll take you being there above not at all. We were trying to live together but our new home wasn’t ready. There were so many changes going on, and so much to do. We wanted it to be perfect but time was against us. In the end you said to me,

It doesn’t matter what state it’s in, or what we do, as long as we’re together. We shouldn’t waste the precious time that we have left…

I then woke…

You were right, time is so valuable and I wouldn’t swap it for all the material items or money in the world. We did try to not take each other for granted, but the restraints of society got in the way. I understand that’s life and we didn’t know you were going to die. Fuck hindsight, as it doesn’t make me feel any better.

The sad part of my dream is it was just a dream. What’s even sadder is that I’m use to knowing this fact. I’m use to the warm fuzzy feeling of seeing you in my sleeping state. When I wake I’m use to my mind trying to sort fact from fiction, in preparation to function in the real world. I’m use to feeling the lunge of loss in the pit of my soul, but even then I know I’ll soon recover. I’m use to the essence of you hanging around for hours afterwards, as though we actually talked and shared a real moment together. I’m use to absolutely loving our dream time and, on waking, tolerating the loss of you.

Simon, it’s no wonder that I recently dreamt of you, as there’s so much change happening in my life. I’m working hard in a new job, feeling purpose and a sense of belonging.  You’d be pleased to know I’m enjoying my new role and it’s gives me the confidence to be out in society. I’m also buying a flat, a place I can really make my own. But that’s just it, it’s my first adult home without you. Of course I’ll take your items and photos but it’s with a heavy heart to know your presence has never walked the floors. I suppose I’m taking your ashes with me but is this the same as the echos of your essence in a place? A friend once told me that ghosts attach themselves to people, not places. If this is true are you always with me wherever I go? I’m sure you’re laughing at this idea as you were always the skeptic, but then again I’ve caught you talking to your decease mother on many occasions. A comforting habit, one I’ve adopted with you.

But what if dreams are real? What if our astral body is another level of reality, and not just where our minds go to sort out? What if this is the only way you can help, support and be with me now? If this is true then you’ll know about my anxiety of starting a new job? You’ll know my worries and indecisiveness to renovate this flat. If you’re real in my dreams, be it an essence of you, then are you my guardian watching over me?

I like to think so but then again…

I dreamt about you the following night too. This time I was only informed of your death, and your body was in a prison far away. I needed to get to you but there were lots of obstacles in my way. I spent most of the dream confused, upset and fighting monsters. I didn’t get to you and woke with a fuzzy and disconnected feeling. This time your essence was tainted with death and as a result my surreal world took over, dulling my mind and senses. I can’t really function when I feel like this and get so angry and frustrated with the living world. The first dream made me a believer in your spirit, but the second just sent me back to the depressive reality of death. Do I want to dream of you at all, knowing one gives me comfort and the other despair?

The grief battle isn’t just about coping in this waking life alone, but it’s dealing with the knowledge that you’re permanently absent. The hard part is this wasn’t my choice, or yours. I can make decisions the whole day long, what to wear, what to eat, where I work and what colours to paint my new flat. I can choose how to interpret my dreams, and whether I believe that you’re real in them. I can do all this but it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t have you. All I have are my dreams and the essence of you.

Simon, I hold you in my heart

As that is all I’ve left of you

Love your hermit

x x x

 

 

 

Winter is Coming

Winter is coming…

In the chill of an early Autumn morning. Daylight makes a pastel pink appearance in the sky, but the cold keeps me under the covers. My cat, who’s wedged against my legs, is not in any hurry to stretch and make his demands for breakfast. I want a hot drink but that means moving from the warmth of my bed. The heating starts to make a clicking sound, a sign its also slow to wake up. I close my eyes for a second and I hear his voice…

‘Jeeves, make us a brew,‘

He doesn’t get an answer so Simon concludes that our imaginary butler is still away on R&R. I suddenly open my eyes and I’m back in the room. A snippet of my past forced its way in and made me remember…

Winter is on its way…

Which means a second Christmas without Simon. I can’t do anything to stop this except push the thought away. If I let the grief in then I’d question everything. For example, did last Christmas really happen without him? How can time move forward yet he is frozen in the past? Did I even celebrate a decade of Christmases with him? If this is my reality now then how in the hell am I supposes to response to another festive season?

Last year was fucking horrible, it really was, but to be fair it wasn’t even 12 months to his death. I’ve had another 10 months to recoup and adjust. I’ve had more time to process, reflect, analyse and, dare I say it, move on. I shudder with the latter as this widow doesn’t believe in the concept of moving on. It’s not because I’m stuck but experience has taught me that so called ‘moving on’ doesn’t cure grief. I can’t keep approaching this time of year with a bah humbug attitude, but the candy-cane jolliness isn’t there either. It’s only October, I know, but this is when the commercial bullshit starts.

There’s no stopping winter…

And with it more changes in my life. The next big one is to move house. I know this will be good as it will get me out of this transitional place and provide the breathing space to…well breathe. I’m also going to be working somewhere new and I know I’ll need to have an element of ho ho ho in my performance. Perhaps it will enable my internal bad-tempered elf to be positive again? Who knows, maybe I’ll once again sing carols around the piano whilst drinking eggnog, as the reflections from the roaring fire glitter off the baubles on the giant tree…Yeah, fucked that!

Winter will be in full force…

And a New Year will arrive. 2019 will mark two years to his death. This is so fucking unbelievable, as I live in a world where he no longer exists. I’ve got to function and allow myself to enjoy, whilst trying not feeling guilty that I’m the one alive. To cope with the new year I’ll be going away, to my place of solace. The biggest question is what the fuck do I do with the lead up to it? Last year I wore a soulless black heart and had to hide myself away, but I don’t want to do that this year. I want to be with friends, old and new, and feel connected once again. I want to smile, laugh, dance, and feel the many wonderful exciting emotions I’ve got trapped inside. I also have to accept my limitations and be at peace with my sadness. I want Christmas to be ok again because…

Then winter will be over…

And it will be spring, summer will follow and with autumn not far behind. Then it’s back full circle to winter again. Time passes and nothing can stop it, but do I really want to stand still anymore? If you had asked me only a year ago I would have said yes, as it’s with a heavy heart to know that each minute, hour, day, month and year I’m always moving away from the life I once had with Simon…

So ask me this question now?

Do I want to be stay stagnant in time?

No, I don’t.

I want to experience and feel each moment as though it’s my last. I want to see the crisp snow fall as I walk in a Christmas card wonderland. I want to be with friends, drink mulled wine and laugh at the mad things they say. I want to experience new activities and embrace my passions. I want to do it all, for Simon and for myself. I know I won’t always hold this attitude, for every moment of every day. Sometimes I will just exist whilst feeling the burden of loss, but my tiny Christmas sparkle is now slightly shining. I want to be able to say Merry Christmas this year and all the years I’m fortunate to have.

Christmas is coming…

And I do want to be ho ho happy, but I know it comes with a touch of scrooge.

Simon,

Bah Humbug!

To death, to fate,

And a little to Christmas too.

Love your Hermit

with only one jingle bell

x x x

 

 

 

Shelved

I should be crying, but I just can’t let it show
I should be hoping, but I can’t stop thinking

Of all the things we should’ve said
That we never said
All the things we should’ve done
Though we never did
All the things that you needed from me
All the things that you wanted for me
All the things that I should’ve given
But I didn’t
Oh, darling, make it go away
Just make it go away now

Kate Bush

 

I place Simon’s photo on the floor, resting it on a box for a moment. He had been rippling behind our fish’s home since the day I moved in, three and a half months ago. At the time I thought it was the only place to put him but I now realise I’d hidden him. I could see him through the watery glass, but I could also ignore him too.

It’s a large photo of Simon and he’s looking up at me from the stream, in our old back garden. His t-shirt reads, ‘You can’t take the sky from me’, a favourite TV show that I know he will never watch again. I’m not sure if I will either, as it reminds me of what he’s missing out on. In the photo Simon’s smile is warm, friendly and loving. His whole face use to light up when he was happy – his mouth, eyes and all the facial lines that life had given him. When he wore this expression I knew I was truly loved.

Even though his photo is now out I still won’t let myself feel the loss that I’ve recently had to hide. Like his photo I’ve shelved Simon and my past with him. I haven’t been remembering who he was and what he meant to me. What I meant to him. I’ve gone into automatic robotic mode, which enables me to carry on with my day as though death didn’t come calling. As though Simon was never in my life. There’s a part of me that feels I’ve reverted back to a much younger self, the girl I was before meeting him. I can be reckless, but all the time I’m trying to forget him. It’s so easy to be this way but that doesn’t mean that the pain goes away.

One of my recent posts was about a positive shift in how I see my future, and this fact is still true. Call it progress or ignorance, but I’ve got so good at it that I now find it hard to feel anything at all. I know I’m doing well, and if Simon was here he would be proud of how much resilience I’ve developed. Mind you, if Simon was here then I wouldn’t have any grief to hide.

Despite my new developed strength in life there are still situations that are proving to be incredibly challenging, so I no longer grieve. I have to wait for the right quiet time to catch my breath and to have a moment alone. The trouble is these brief opportunities don’t come along very often and as a result I’m completely switched off. It took a counsellor to recognise what I’ve done and now I don’t know what to do?

Do I try to feel the loss of not having Simon here?

Do I begin to remember him again, in my current situation?

Or does it remain shelved until I’m in a better position to deal with it?

Is there ever a better time to grieve?

What I don’t seem to have a problem with is my ability to still love him, and also be so terribly heartbroken about this fact. I still want him to be my friend & husband, and to keep on wanting this only makes it much harder to live without him. I look at his photo and I hear his voice say my name. I remember his cheeky teasing grin and in the next second he’s gone again. I then revert back to knowing his presence is no longer here. Why the fuck did life decide it was going to give up on him? That thought is unbearable, so I shelf it along with Simon, and I go about my day once more, trying to forget…

Simon, I cried once whilst writing this.

It lasted a minute and then

It stopped.

Your Hermit

x x x

A Shift in the Mind

It’s a shift in the mind,

that has come over time,

but that doesn’t mean it will always be here.

It’s the gift of truth and clarity,

and sheds some light on my actual reality.

I do not question its motive no more,

whether its progress or ignorance that is at its core.

It’s just a shift in the mind for better not worse,

and it gives me a release from this wretched grief curse…

By Simon’s Hermit

I’ve been on many journeys in my life. I’ve experienced and lived in other countries, mixed with various cultures and had different relationships. I’ve also been on quite a few emotional pathways whilst I figure out, not only who I currently am, but who I want to be. My journeys have enable me to feel joy and excitement, to laugh and be happy and also to know pain, sadness and heartbreak.

Journeys are part of us all, whether they take us physically from one place to another, or be it soul searching within ourselves. An inward journey tests our mental and emotional wellbeing, to hopefully make us more resilient. Sometimes it doesn’t feel that anything I do helps to improve my state of mind, and on these bleak days everything seems hopeless. But time educates me that intense negative emotions do eventually calm, and then like clouds in the sky they pass on.

I’ve been on a grief journey for nearly 20 months. In this time I’ve realised that grief doesn’t get boxed and shelved away. Losing Simon will always be with me because he is still a part of my life. So with no closure what is left is the ability to make grief fit into my life, in order to function everyday and to let peace and happiness in.

Since moving house this year I feel a new chapter has begun. It’s bittersweet, as it’s necessary to continue on but so very sad to do it without Simon. It’s been a really bumpy transition, as I struggled to live with family again and tolerate being in a noisy environment. I’m still coping with my new surroundings and even though it’s hard to see my future, I do want purpose in my life. I want to have friendships, be happy, have a career and to also feel all the emotions that make me human. I want to be more then someone’s widow.

So in order to begin again I recently went on another journey. I went away for 5 nights and the intention was to put me back in the real world. This in its self is quite ironic, as it was at a fantasy convention but the hermit went out to be with others. I knew I would be spending a long weekend doing strange activities with strangers, and my only retreat was 2 thin layers of canvas. In the end I didn’t even have this, as the blazing hot sun meant it was impossible to stay in the tent during the day.

As I travelled down on a packed train I silently questioned what the hell was I doing. This wasn’t in my comfort zone, as I wasn’t going with anyone, nor did I know a single person at the event. Have I finally lost the plot? I thought. Probably. Yet from the moment I got a ticket, a year ago, it felt right. It was scary to think about spending time with 800 strangers but I knew I had to do it. Besides…

What could be worse then Simon being dead?

So my weekend was fun, exciting and happy. It was also stressful, tiring and manic. The first day and night were okay, and moments locked in the toilet helped to calm me. Then on the second morning my emotions became mixed, and the depressive grief monster decided to call. I didn’t feel like I fitted in as groups, old and new, formed around me. I was mindful that these thoughts were not a true representation of my reality and I needed to stick it out. I sat at breakfast on my own, conflicted as I needed to eat but also needed time away from people. The tent was already hot at 8.30am.

As I stared out of the window, a man with weather beaten tanned skin sat down outside. He put his pint of lager on the table and took a drag of his cigarette. His actions remained me so much of Simon, as he would have done the exact thing – a roll up and a pint of ‘hair of the dog’ in the sunshine. What I didn’t need, at that moment, was a tigger for my grief to come out further. How was I ever to survive the weekend if I went to pieces in front of strangers? But the shift in my mind made me accept how I was feeling and told me it was okay. It’s okay to be sad and to miss Simon. It’s natural not to feel jolly all the time, and to not attempt to keep a constant pretence for the sake of others. I felt a shift… Slowly my confident, sociable self came out to play.

People didn’t ask if I had a partner and I didn’t volunteer the information. There was a time, mainly in the early stages of grief, when I thought the whole world should know about Simon dying, from my hairdresser to the postman. Now it’s all about a balance of speaking his name, so he’s not forgotten, against not being defined by his death. Simon would agree and wouldn’t want me to spend my time being consumed with grief.

I still have dark times down in the grief pit, but now I can see the blackness for what it really is, and as I look up I also see an opening…

I don’t know what the driving force is behind my change in attitude, or even how long it will last? Perhaps it really is a positive shift, or maybe I’m avoiding dealing with the trauma of it? After all, I still have frozen moments where I’m lost in a black memory, one where I’m trying to keep Simon alive, or at his funeral. If the ‘shift in my mind’ is just avoidance then I’m sure I’ll deal with it at some point. For now I’m content with feeling something more then grief.

And I’m coping with life without Simon the best way I can…

This is where you sat at the last convention in 2016.

Your place of solace.

I miss you but I’m still fighting on,

for your sake and mine.

Love your ‘getting out there’ Hermit

X X X

 

 

 

 

 

The Right Words

The defects and faults of the mind are like wounds in the body; after all imaginable care has been taken to heal them up, still there will be a scar left behind, and they are in continual danger of breaking the skin and bursting out again.

Francois de La Rochefoucauld

I take another sip of coffee, to try to feel a little better, a little more human. The sun is beaming through the window and, due to the heat of the night, its unfortunately open. I say ‘unfortunate’ because it also lets the world in, with all its chaotic noise. There are cars speeding along a cobbled road, closely followed by wagons with their heavy loads. There are sirens in the distance and helicopters flying in the dry sky. There’s a man on his phone, and every other word is FUCK. There’s a bird in distress, as it calls to find its baby, who was cheeping earlier but has now gone silent.

My head is like the world, not quiet. It has been for a while but I’ve just been controlling it, holding back the sadness and a feeling of being totally lost…

‘So what’s next for you?‘ said a friend I’ve not seen since Simon’s death.

I hear the words, and the casual lighthearted tone but I don’t know how to respond. I was already in a highly anxious state, and on my way to becoming drunk. I’d gone into town by myself, walked and stood alone in a busy bar whilst people chatted in groups around me. It was good to have someone to talk to but he wasn’t saying the right words. I wasn’t in counselling, I didn’t want to be reminded of the shit state of my life, and I certainly didn’t want to feel anything. That was days ago and I still can’t get the question out of my head…

What is next for me?

It’s the same question I’ve been asking myself for 18 months. What now? Most people try to say the right words, to show concern and empathy. Sometimes they do say the right things and sometimes they don’t. I don’t take offence anymore as, in their position, I wouldn’t know what to say to me either? I don’t have the right words, and I certainly don’t have the correct answers.

Outwardly, I’m coping and I’m all the things that people say. I’m brave, I’m strong, and I’m bloody resilient. I’m fucking Ripley, as she squarely faces the alien and blasts it. Inwardly, I’m a emotional fucked-up mess. I’m venerable, broken, anxious, angry and sensitive. I’m Kane, after the alien has just burst out of his chest. I spend the majority of the day holding my grief guts in. My life is constant control, afraid to lose it for even a second. But after my night out I did, and the grief goo seeped into my reality.

It’s then that I feel it all, the utter devastation of losing Simon and the complete forfeit of my life. My one act of trying to live again has resulted in me retreating back to my hermit hole. Yet my safe cocoon is now a room in a house shared with my parents. It’s a storage unit for my things and a bed for me.

And it’s all so fucking noisy…

The other night I tried to sleep but was unsuccessful. When I did finally drift off I woke to the noise of the world beyond the open window. I decided to wear ears plugs but that didn’t stop the chaos in my mind. I cuddled into my cat, careful not to crush him but he then turned into a small kitten, and I lost him in the covers. Then I felt something wrap around me. I wrestled with it, trying to get it off my neck, body and legs. I turned to it and said, ‘who are you’ and ‘let me go,’ seeing it for the first time. It was a shadow creature that was attached to my back. On my words it flew away and I woke up…

I was terrified, my survival mode in full activation but I didn’t run or fight, instead I froze. I told myself it was only a dream, not real, a nightmare in which my brain was trying to sort things out. The problem with survival mode is it also triggers a physical response. My heart was pounding, my breathing fast and my eyes wide open…

When will this dark shadow of grief end? I’m 18 months in but it feels as though no time has passed. Simon’s the only one that can resolve my pain, yet it was with his death that caused the grief. I’m quick to add that my current state is not his fault, as he had no choice in what was ‘next’ for him. He only ever loved me with the best of his beating heart, and now I’m left wondering ‘what’s next for me’ in this world full of loud black anarchy.

What’s next?

I can’t answer this question as I don’t have the ability to access this information in my head. When I sweat the big decisions I find myself retreating back to nowhere land. It is like trying to think whilst submerged in a vat of heavy black treacle…

So what now?

Well, all I can do is…

Wake up each day, and breath in & out…

Do whatever is necessary to stay alive and to function…

When I laugh I know I’ll feel okay, and when I’m sad I’ll know that this is okay too.

I’ll communicate, I’ll care and I’ll be the best human as I can possible be, but I’ll also retreat, be grumpy and feel the rawness of loss.

I go on in my present knowing Simon is no longer there. I’ll dip back to my past because I know Simon is there, and I’ll try to not to let my uncertain future get the better of me.

The world is so rowdy and purposeless that it’s hard to hear my erratic thoughts. But do I want to? Do I want to actually hear, with clarity and with emotion? Do I really want to hear the silence once the bird has stopped calling?

Do I really want to know the answer to ‘what is next’ for me without Simon?

Because that’s the most scary part of it all…

 

You taught me to be in the present.

You also knew my strengths and potential better then I knew myself.

How can I work it out without you?

Love your lost hermit

x x x