annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


On and on

Thank you for the comments on the letter about the carers. Fuckers.

I've been overwhelmed with sadness for ED this last week and unable/unwilling to write about it. Yet each time I opened the page everything else flew from my mind. It was all I could see, all I could feel. Even the allotment was no consolation - I couldn't organise myself to do anything when I went up there which made me even more desolate, but then I knew I just had to wait it out.

Or maybe it's not waiting it out - maybe my feelings need to be received before they can be contained again, until the next time. I read something about validation and feelings recently, though I can't remember anything more than that word, validation, but I had some of that yesterday and maybe that was it.

I'd woken up very low and hadn't managed more than weeping and pacing for hours when I got a text saying two friends were on their way round. I called them tearfully, to say I wasn't really up to much, that I was full of ED, and they came anyway. Friend A hugged me and listened to me ranting and sobbing about not being able to bear it, wanting it to STOP NOW and to have my girl back and for GS to have his mother back and Son and YD to have their sister back. That I'd had about five minutes a couple of years ago where I'd found a way to live with my mother having died when I was a baby without being destroyed by it and I didn't have it in me to segue straight from that into the loss of my daughter. I couldn't do it, not possible. Weep, wail, boo hoo etc etc.

When I started running down A said things that I can't even remember but along the lines of not being surprised that I felt this way, that it was indeed terrible. But the immediate problem is not knowing how I can help her in any way. She's getting worse and is miserable and not getting any moments of joy. Until recently I was able to provide those with a trip to the woods or whatever, but now I can't get her in the car and she tries, but can't think of anything at all that she'd like to do because she's stuck in the present moment. While saying all this, along with my regret at not taking her on the London Eye while she still had enough vision to appreciate it, I realised that I should go and see her again as soon as possible.

So I'm going up there again tomorrow, after a lunchtime yoga class. I've booked a wheelchair accessible taxi to pick us up and take us into the nearest little town where we will buy her some summer clothes and sit around drinking coffee and watching the world go by. It may not sound much but she hasn't been there for about four months, so it's a start.

Meanwhile, 'friend' B was on her phone, looking angry. Finally she looked up and said I should be glad ED was still alive. A butted in quickly and said it's not a league table - the existence of worse circumstances is not relevant as there's always something worse. Which would all have been OK if the conversation hadn't opened out, if B had not soon come to lamenting her 87 year old father's decline. He had been a successful businessman, a force to be reckoned with but now was tired, confused and forgetful - his fire has gone out, and the fucking woman gave me a hang dog face of 'poor me, I need some comfort' and I was livid, telling her that this was exactly what was happening to ED but she's thirty four fucking years old and had hardly started. At which point A hustled B out. Ach, I know it's hard to lose your dad, but why won't she acknowledge that I'm losing my daughter? It's not won't though, I know, it's can't. She has her own stuff - not everyone can take this, not all the time. But I don't want to see her for a few days.

Today has been better. I remembered the pedometer and the walking (6.799 steps since about 2.30pm) and went to the allotment with Bloke and did some useful things, like put fleece over the strawberries to stop the pigeons eating them. Planted some leeks and celeriac - all our beds are full now. Not looking great as there's been an endless strong wind for about a week now. Not gale force, but not far below, sucking all the moisture out of things, burning the leaves and driving me a bit demented, frankly. I remember when I was teaching, that windy days generated a certain extra energy around the school. Enough now, wind. Go and blow somewhere else.

I am so looking forward to Glasto. The tickets came the other day, so it's really real. Here's a link in case you don't know about it. I'm doing workshops in the kids' field and my younger kids are doing the set-up, which means a lot of painting and a lot of bunting. Follow the links to the kids' field if you like - it's a massive sub-section of the festival and everything is free!

In the past I've had intentions about Glasto and how I'm going to do it, but this year all I want is to give really good workshops that all kinds of different kids enjoy and to see The Proclaimers. And the Stones, of course, but I'm not fussed about anything else. Que sera, sera.

Jesus, I've been going on for ages.

Grateful for: Bloke; a new place down the road selling organic, fairtrade meals with mountains of different salads at reasonable prices; feeling the love; BBC Radio 6 Music; having dancing in a field to look forward to

laters xxx

11:08 p.m. - 09.06.13


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