Yesterday I attended the monthly group. I’ve been feeling fragile so I thought it would be a good opportunity to meet with ‘my people’ where I could express my feelings.
On the Thursday I had argued with S via text about a payment. I ended up in tears. Not because he was especially mean, but because the communication between us is not even like friends. It’s business like with money, amicable about the kids, sort of. He doesn’t appreciate that I’m still coming to terms with the end of our marriage and I’m emotional. He’s so shut down, so he couldn’t care less about my emotions. I find that a bitter pill to swallow. I miss him caring and I miss him – generally. Those feelings aren’t reciprocated and it’s testing for me. I spent Thursday night crying alone. I finally exhausted myself and fell asleep.
Friday morning puffy eyed I attended a lecture that I really wasn’t in the mood for. Discussing the reflection of other people’s feelings, it felt too close, to raw. My concentration was shot to pieces, I felt tired and the emotion sat the on surface for me. It was clear to my lecturer that I wasn’t in the mood. I wasn’t able to participate in the group work with my usual gusto and patience. At one point I was quite short with her and I felt bad because she’s a very good lecturer and I respect her. I sent an email apology later on. I ended up ducking out early. Not in the mood to engage with my peers, and I was sick of pretending to friends that I was ok. I had reached my limit.
I tried to get an early night, my flat mate goes home every Friday for the weekend. But Friday he was in and out, and this went on until midnight. When finally he left. I was so on edge, sleeping was hard.
On Saturday I drove back to the house, eager to spend time with the kids. It was a nice relaxed day.
On Sunday I said a friend could borrow my car. So I drove the 40 mins into the city, dropped it off and got the train back, which S agreed to pick me up from. Another friend was keen to catch up because she’d decided to split with her partner. So I borrowed S’s car and drove to her. I offered my support and didn’t want to wax lyrical about my own situation. It was her time and she needed me. We went straight onto the monthly group.
I listened to everyone, feeling painfully short of breath. I thought it was because I was hot/tired. But I realised it was anxiety. It’s not typical of me to be so emotional. When I spoke the tears came. Heavy and sad. I talked about how I’d moved out, and subsequently lost my best friend and confidante. I talked about the nightmares and how I had to manage them. I talked about my mental health and managing that. But mostly I cried out of grief for S. The looming sense of loneliness and how he had no respect for me. The group were as usual encouraging. But I didn’t need platitudes or advice. I was sitting with a ball of emotions and I found the crying was really hard to stop. I think the facilitator picked up on that.
The next woman that spoke was extremely graphic. It was too much for me so I excused myself for a break. Soon after another friend ran out in a panic attack so I consoled her. My own feelings sunk away. I was grateful for the emotionally reprieve but I knew it was short lived. I’m hurting very deeply.
After the group I had to drive to the house, get S and the kids so they could drop me at the train station. While I was there waiting I kept getting a group of boys coming up to me. I felt intimidated and vulnerable. Not typical but the group always leaves me more wary and jumpy. I jumped in the next train relieved.
Then the tears started again. It took everything I had not to break down into gut wrenching sobs. But I sniffled away and felt so sad. Usually I’d text S and ask for support. But I text about staying another night and he didn’t sound overly keen. As the nights draw in unfortunately I couldn’t hide behind my sunglasses so by the time I met my friend at the car, my tear stained face couldn’t be hidden. He looked shocked and asked if I was ok. At that, the tears started again and it was such a struggle to retain control. I wanted to get away as quickly as possible and explained with embarrassment that I was just over tired and being silly. I figured if I drove straight to my place I could cry alone in bed but the reality is that I wanted people around and I didn’t think isolating would be healthy. S was still disinterested so I focussed on my loving son and how he would cuddle into me and make me laugh. He failed to disappoint of course, I’m very lucky to have him.
I fell asleep very quickly exhausted from the days events.
Today I’m left feeling raw.
My hand infection has flared up again and my skin hurts tremendously even driving is painful. The dr I was able to see this morning prescribed my third round of antibiotics I have cotton gloves for driving I have been referred to a skin specialist. I’m at my wits end with this.
I’m heading back to my flat where I can just be, and no doubt let some more tears fall. I feel so useless and alone.
I know it’s situational and grief is to be expected. Again I can only hope I emerge stronger for it, but it’s literally one day at a time.