The Boring Underbelly of Grief

Day 1142.

We have celebrated George’s birthday.
He is now 24.

I’m realizing that the fear of committing to anything has, for now, passed.
I am committing too much.

The lukelove Foundation is finally going to the IRS  with the help of Harry Nelson’s law firm. Harry reached out to me when finalizing his book, The United States of Opioids.

There’s a dinner planned for a friend’s Mum and there’s a massive Thanksgiving dinner at another friend’s home.
I am committed to helping and I thought that was fine.

But then I crashed - full of .....
I don’t know how to describe what I was full of ......grief, I suppose.

The tightness in my chest.
I crave the outdoors. 
Then it’s too much and I retreat to my bedroom.
Then I crave open space ...
In and out 
In and out

Jesse, Gidi’s Mama, fell 3 weeks ago.
And right on time, here I am, fallen too.

Is there a wave to this?

Gidi died 3 weeks before Luke. 
He was almost 5.
The circumstances are so different.

Jesse and I have noted that our ups and downs have a rhythm. 
Jesse falls and 3 weeks later I do too.
Jesse comes out of the darkness and starts to function and 3 weeks later I do too.
It’s the same with the phases of high productivity.
This was happening long before we knew each other so well.

Judging by Jesse’s fall, this is going to be a long one. 
Will I be able to do all that I have committed to from the depths of this wave?
Because if our theory is right - I’ll be full-on low just when I need to be productive.

Will I meet my commitments?  
I deal with complications so badly.
Anything that doesn’t run smoothly fucks me up.

Can’t make the printer print as I wish.
Passwords - bloody passwords!
The shoes I ordered are delivered to another address.

It’s not (in these cases) that I fucked it up - It’s more that I can’t take the curveball, the natural variables of everyday life.

Keeping track of an increased diary (which is nothing compared to my previous diary) is overwhelming.
I mean I just have to open my diary - it’s written in black and white on the page, but I still can’t sort it.

I just can’t find my way forward.
Everything is a panic.
Everything is chaotic.

My brain flashes up a conveyor belt of things that I’ve misplaced.
A book.
A file.
A document
When does my passport expire?
A piece of equipment
Where is everything?
it is very stressful.
It’s very concerning.
It is like I am back to that crazy Shakespearean mad woman again.
I am overwhelmed by almost nothing.

How will I ever get my shit together?
It’s like I have Alzheimer’s.
The flashings in my brain of things lost or forgotten and then, it’s all erased for a while.
........till I remember them all again.

I have a trip home booked and there’s a lot to fix for that.
Well, I say a lot, but this would all have been taken in my stride before.

When Luke died he took a lot of me with him.
I know I’ll not ever be the same.
But when will I be able to rely on myself again?

I’m behind on everything.
In days past I would have set aside a day or 2, write a list and go to it. Boom!... no more.

I may write that list, set the days aside and then forget it all and lie on my bed and play with my phone.
The items not done - and the cycle will repeat.

Take the meds I hear many cry.
But those who do take the meds, blame this cycle on their meds.

I guess this is part of the grief. 
The boring underbelly of the long road of grieving your child.
The part nobody talks about or wants to hear about.
Because it is boring. 

This week I will endeavor to write that list, take those days and see how it goes.