I`m a daft old bat

I`ve done some very daft things in my life but this takes the biscuit, I`m now going to open myself to ridicule especially from myself. I mentioned madness in an earlier post and this was something I ventured into at my lowest point last year, a point when I`d grasp at any straws going.

I was reading the local paper and saw an article about a psychic medium a subject I`d often scorned but what caught my eye was her statement that she`d never profit in any way from her gift. So having nothing better to do and nothing to loose I went to one of her monthly psychic supers. (in a local cafe the price of the "supper"  seemed a bit steep for all I ate). Infact I went several times and even had a reading, things were said, hope was given BUT.

It became very clear that every widow (I hate that term, makes me think of withered old Sicilian women with headscarves and aprons) talks to their husband and rushes about making changes to their homes and/or gardens. So what couldn`t be guessed was commonplace among bereaved. Then a few things that I checked out later were totally wrong.

This wasn`t helping me at all, I wanted to KNOW, I wanted to have the proper goodbye we were robbed of to be sure he knew all I was saying to him. I suppose I wanted some kind of hope. None of it was however something only we would have known. The whole thing was actually making me feel worse.

The latest article in the paper was announcing her new psychic "business" and I felt all the more silly.

I realise now that he knew all along how I feel (I didn`t wait until he died to tell him, I told him all the time) and he`s still around, probably laughing at me for being a plonker.

holiday

Bank holiday, a couple of years back we`d have been off out somewhere having fun,  last year at this time was roughly when we found out what the future had in store and now, well that`s just it, what now.

I`m trying to go with the flow but can`t help having ideas and trying to plan things slightly but just end up changing my mind every five minutes. I seem to have sorted my days out but the rest of the time is a problem. I`ve checked out most of the social life here but in this sleepy little town there`s not much on offer.

Nearly midnight and I`m not even slightly tired, really need to get down to the library as I`m running out of night-time reading material.

(Early morning added thought.....boy is my life dull!!!).

Extra addition, I`m really meant to be dusting and sweeping up vast amounts of dog hair from the floor, brain numbing jobs so I`m easily distracted. I know, some lively ear nectar is needed, no kids today so can disperse with headphones and turn the volume uppppp!!

Dreams

Daydreaming used to be nice, now it`s not. My reality now sometimes seems unreal like it wasn`t meant to be like this at all. Then there`s the moment when I get stuck to the spot when I think to myself that if I blink really hard that I`ll hear Wobbles indicators bleeping as he comes in the drive then the front door will open and Cliffy will be home for tea. I know, DREAM ON (I`m not quite that mad yet!).

It occurred to me that I`m having to fill every minute with stuff, things to keep me busy to take my mind off this unreal world I feel I`m now in but they`re just distractions, I`m wondering if like the drugs I refused from the doctor they`re just covering the cracks not mending them because when I run out of stuff to do I feel just as bad inside.

I feel like I`m just existing, going through the motions, attempting to fill time, I don`t want to grow old on my own turning into a lonely sad old f**k, we were going to grow old disgracefully together (there were plans of mobility scooter races up our street!). I want my Cliffy back, I want to talk and laugh with him, I want to hold his hand, I want a huge squeezy cuddle, as I said, dream on!!!

Yes, I run out of things to do last night hence too much thinking, to try and cheer myself up me and Wobble had a singsong and dance round the shed to my fav Doors tracks.

Tree

Another of my things is that I`ve been helping out in the BHF charity shop for a wee while. I chose that one because Cliffs heart operation had improved his life so much that I wanted to give something back. Initially I`d said that I only wanted to help behind the scenes (I hate gloomy long faced shop assistants who find it hard to crack a smile or have a bit of idle banter).

But one morning, as there was no-one else, I found myself serving people. It`s a very busy shop and the constant stream of customers meant time flew by but more importantly I was so busy I didn`t have time to be gloomy and enjoyed chatting to people more like I used to. Plus the manager and other volunteers there are a lovely bunch and have helped me far more than the so called councillor.

Evenings are still bad, don`t quite know what to do with myself, usually end up reading. I still can`t settle in my own living room, I hate it, it`s just full of memories of THAT morning.

I`d asked Greenhaven burial ground to let me know as soon as Cliff got his tree, I got a text yesterday with just two words, I`m not quite sure why but they made me cry. "Silver Birch"

Tired

A combination of lack of sleep, rushing about and bad diet are catching up on me, I`m feeling worn out (I actually forgot to post my nieces birthday card in time as sometimes the days and weeks seem to merge into each other).

I don`t enjoy food anymore and tend to eat when my stomach starts to audibly rumble or I start to feel slightly giddy and then it`s a quick fix from Greggs the bakers in the form of a doughnut to get the old blood sugar up. I even resorted to readymeals for a while but couldn`t be bothered eating a whole one and they`re too expensive to keep on ending up in the dogs.

Thinking about it I live on a diet of coffee, sugar, multivitamins and cigarettes. I used to worry about the smoking, always trying to cut down, now I don`t give a toss. Late last year a doctor said the heavy smoking would shorten my life "yeah, I know" I said with a smile.

Yo-yo

One step forewords and five back, I`ll have a day that isn`t too bad then crash down again. I`d been so busy lately that the usual chaos at home had turned to mayhem (kids are off school and college for 2 weeks), so decided to have a day at home doing a tidy. Actually it`s my room that`s worst, cd`s, books, mags, dvd`s everywhere (my nocturnal time passers), I couldn`t find my boots the other morning under it all.

In the middle of my clear up a song came on the cd, ouch, I looked at Cliffs photos and that was it. I was always a bit of a daydreamer but now an hour passes in an instant and there I am stuck to the spot, staring at his picture crying again.

The song, it reminds me of those lazy Sunday mornings, "Nip down and get us a coffee" he`d say, so it was the coffee I usually spilt on the bed. From Aqualung here`s a more recent version of this pretty song.

Battle of the sexes

I`m guilty of making huge sweeping generalities, this one has nothing to do with what people look like, how rich or poor, intelligent or not, this gripe is purely about gender (sfb can be excluded from this). I`ll probably insult both sexes but in my experience (as all people are not the same), men are by far the most sensitive of the sexes and women can be very ruthless. Perhaps it`s due to the feminist thing that women feel they have to be tough but they`ve not only won equality but have lost something along the way.

An example, on Friday I had virtually the same conversation with two people, the first a woman around my age, I was talking about how I was feeling and her advice was to put on some lippy and go out and flirt to cheer myself up (I thought she was mad), the second was a man covered in tattoos and piercings who said not to worry or rush things. One example but not a one off.

I can`t remember the last time I had a full nights sleep and after a busy week there I was sitting having my new tattoo done (I love daisies and instead of taking flowers to the cemetery to wither I have my own special flowers for Cliffy), the tingly feeling is very relaxing and I almost dozed off.

A glimpse of the old me

Yesterday a woman I know was viewing what was branded as an adhesive bra (chicken fillets), I`d never seen a pair of those in reality so was into the box in a flash, ugh, cold, slimey and gooey, very unpleasant feeling I told her. And as she screwed her face up I couldn`t resist and went to squidge one in her face and yesss, she squealed, loudly, TOO EASY, you`re just a big kid she said, so maybe there`s hope for me yet.

I miss having fun, I don`t want to be one of those people who takes life oh so seriously, doesn`t really get you anywhere except that laughter lines turn to wrinkles. I need to laugh more despite how I`m feeling inside.

Talking of being taken seriously, last year for one of the meetings I had with some nhs bigwigs I decided to look the part, heels (short people are at a disadvantage straightaway),  black dressy trousers and jacket, hair pulled up so it looked like one of those hair do`s that wouldn`t move an inch in a wind tunnel and even make-up. I looked in the mirror and thought "that isn`t me, that wont do at all", so pulled on my jeans and a t-shirt, mules, shook my head to release hair and wiped the crap off my face, much better, I hate people trying to be something they`re not.

I`m not a huge Kinks fan but the words here are rather apt, who`d want life to be that boring.

Light relief

After the somewhat gloomy last posting I thought I`d have an ahhhh moment with this so so cute wee guy, look at his face when she stops, it`s another of those clips that the girls find and call me through to see.

Spilling beans

I can talk about Cliff to people no problem but when it comes to his illness I feel choked and have hold back emotion, when it comes to how I feel I can`t really talk freely at all as I`d start blubbing and I hate crying in public, totally undignified and something to store up untill I`m on my own, that`s why I wanted someone neutral to spill the beans to. But surely this is a very public platform, yes but here I can say what I want, when I want and no-one sees the tears, red eyes and runny nose.

One of the reasons I was so angry at the medical profession was that they robbed us of a proper goodbye, they promised they could control the symptoms enough for Cliff to live a reasonable life for several months, what they didn`t mention was that this was guesswork, pure assumption. So we tried to keep our spirits up, no need to dwell on the outcome just yet, we had a bit of time. But within days we were told the end was imminent and at that point liver failure had begun. Liver failure effects, speech, memory and reasoning and although always fully conscious it was too late, my Cliffy was trapped in a body that was shutting down.

There were brief moments when he came back, I saw in his eyes but only minutes here an there just enough time for promises to be made, both of us asked for something but not the goodbye either of us would have wanted. One of the hardest things was part of me wanted his suffering to stop, for him to escape but the other didn`t want him to go, I wanted to keep him forever. He didn`t want to go and in his words "fought like a bastard", even on the morning he died, with a little help from me, he managed to get himself out of bed and onto the sofa next to it, he was a very determinned individual and he wanted to sit there not lie about in bed.

Sometimes I think about what we`d be doing if he were here, think it wasn`t meant to be like this, he was far too young to die and the years ahead feel like a prison sentence. I miss him, of course I want him back but that`s never going to happen. One of the last things I said to him before he left the house was to keep my side warm as I wouldn`t be long. I`m not suicidal, I love my kids and would never do that to them but I hope I`m not too long, I don`t really want to be here anymore, I want to be with Cliffy, the worlds very monochrome without him.

Weekends

I used to love weekends they were always fun, now they are just more days to fill. On a pension and someone who lives very modestly I could have spent the rest of my life sitting on my backside but in a life that now feels so meaningless I decided to do something worthwhile.

Paid jobs in the charity sector usually require graduates, I left education after A levels and after a couple of years doing spreadsheets I never really wanted to sit behind a desk again. So for now I`m a volunteer, manual, tiring and best of all worthwhile, plus I get to work weekends so less time to think and dwell.

I`d received some birthday money from Mum, it was going to go in the new guttering fund but she insisted it was to be spent on me not the house. I hate buying things for me, never know what I want but yesterday after a day of sorting and carrying, I decided my left arm looked rather bare so on my way home popped into see young Dan (the kids tell me off for adding the prefix young to anyone under around 30)  So I`m booked in for new tattoo on Friday, they`re lovely in there and Dan doesn`t mind my constant chattering.

After grabbing a sandwich I settled down to watch Brief Encounter, the kids hate it because "Nothing happens", "But the atmosphere, the bit where she says goodbye from the train, the romance", I say but no the kids have none of my sentiment which is maybe a good thing in a world full of sharp edges.