It’s a Mourning Mindfuck.

This mourning process is a tough and completely unpredictable one, as I have discovered over the past month and a half. In its constant ups and downs it is all consuming, mind overhauling and makes me feel like Life itself is giving me the finger.

The first week after he died I basically sat on the couch and stared at a wall, a tv show, or at people trying to make conversation. l felt paralytic and utterly utterly helpless. I am a fixer, a doer, someone who takes action when things go wrong. This time, nothing can fix it. He is gone.

When my quarantine ended so did the staring. I got off the couch. I had a cremation service to attend and I had to move back to Amsterdam. All in one week.

That week, consisted of a string of Fuck my Life moments. From the plunge I took off my bike on my way to the cremation service to getting a cabinet rammed into my ear by my friend (you know who you are!) in a badly coordinated lift, it was all just brilliant. Not.

Turns out that was nothing because then, when all of the practical stuff was done, the thoughts and feelings really manifested themselves. Constant thoughts and feelings that change every hour, every day, constantly.

Thoughts I am not proud of, like the envy I feel towards people who knew him longer, who were part of his life when I was not.

Thoughts of regret like, why did I not call him Friday after I sent that last text? Why was I not nicer that Thursday on Face-time?

Thoughts of anger towards myself, him and the world. It is unfair! (stomping my foot like a child)

Thoughts that take up 80% of my brain at the moment and make everything else a bit muggy. Like looking through misted up glasses.. squinting.. Does that make sense?

I do not cry a lot in public and sometimes it feels like other people expect me to act sadder, cry more, be overtly grieving but for now it seems to be quite a solitary thing that comes over me during long nights of strange nightmares where I search for him and the inevitable wake-up at 03:00 every morning.

My coping mechanism through all of this is keeping incredibly busy. The Kid does not know what hit him. I have turned into super mom. Not a playground too far or an activity too crazy. I am all in! I am really wearing us both out…

Just now, the Kid was picked up and the Friday night that I used to spend with C. is stretching out in front of me. No distractions, no activities. The house is cleaner than clean, the laundry folded and ironed.. the lockdown will keep me in.

Yes, that makes me cry.

However, this morning I shaved my legs for the first time in 7 weeks. There just did not seem much point to the whole thing until I remembered him telling me that grooming should always be an important part of life. And since he was always right.. according to him.. I now know I at least did that (the shaving). So put that in your pipe and smoke it… Life!