Try to find your deepest issue in every confusion,
and abide by that."
Hmm been a bit of a strange weekend. K phoned at about 6pm Friday night to say he wouldn't be leaving London till midnight because of the traffic, he said he would call me just as he was leaving. I told him not to cause "I would probably be asleep and he would only wake me." Why did I say that - I never sleep when he is driving between London and Newcastle - I guess I just wanted to share the hurt.
Anyway pootled about on the pooter, then decided to drink my way to dawn and K's arrival. My rationale was if K was having to stay awake so I would join him. Cracked open a very nice bottle of chardonnay (cant remember exact type) and chatted via MSN to Hx, who is kindly clearing out her wardrobe, which means I will have a new look for 2005 and Bill, who isn't clearing out his wardrobe.
Not sure what time they both claimed their respective beds were calling them, but I was left alone and wondering how I was going to fill in the rest of the night. It was here that I decided that it would be a perfect time to phone Jerry, the friend I had just started communing with, so filled up my glass and dialed the number to Aus.
You know how you sometimes make those "not spoke for ages, wonder what they are up to" calls and hit a brick wall, well this wasn't one of those times. It was great, I haven't spoken to Jerry since I was 19 or 20 and then we didn't really part on the best of terms (my insecurity and paranoia and his youthful arrogance and need to explore life through various "mood enhancing substances") but time has obviously matured the two of us and we just chatted - life, love, the past, the future and a whole lot more. After an hour he called me back and we continued chatting until the back door suddenly opened and in walked K - Bugger me, was I surprised!
I said a fond farewell to Jerry and welcomed my husband home - after speaking to me on the phone he had decided the weather was going to get worse and had left to try and beat it. We were strangely polite, a little cold and very detail orientated; but thinking about what many people had said I tried not to put my own hurt first and just listened.
He talked about the funeral arrangements, about driving around London, about Jack (nephew) winning a competition and other general stuff. He hit the brandy and I filled up my wine glass. At one time we were talking about the funeral and we almost hit on how he was feeling but I guess I pushed too hard and the barriers came down and we returned to the safety of the mundane.
At about 3.30am I eventually called in tired, he said he was going to watch a bit of TV and would be up soon. I leaned across and kissed him said I was "glad he was home and that I had missed him". I told him not to be too long, and went off to bed. At 5.30ish I woke to find the bed beside me cold and empty so went downstairs with the duvet and covered him up. I lay upstairs and pondered on how distant he felt from me - I know he is grieving and having to do this his own way, but I cant help feeling just a little peed off at him -selfish, selfish me!
So as not to wake him I lay in bed all Saturday morning just reading and listening to the radio. Just after 12 I heard him coughing and felt it was a good time to get up. Hair all mussed up and drawing on his first fag, he looked like a little lost boy we mumbled round our coffee, not really saying anything, but at least being together.
The rest of Saturday was spent doing household chores and generally plebbing. TV - cold comfort for lonely souls. I said I didn't fancy cooking and could we order Pizza, he kinda pulled his face, said he would go to local shops and buy some. I said it kinda defeated the non cooking thang, I really, really couldn't even be bothered to turn on the oven, so he agreed and Pizza was ordered.
K cracked open a bottle of wine, but I didn't feel like any (must really be feeling down). We started to watch "Bone Collector" but he said he was tired and was going to bed, my turn then to stay up watching TV. I woke at about 2.30 cold and stiff, the TV happily mewling on to itself. On Sundays we usually call round our respective families and this morning was no different - only I just felt sad - the most we ever talk is when we are the phone to other people.
Then between phone calls he shocked me by asking me what was up, he said he was conscious that I hadn't been talking, that I was okay when Malcom had been here, but that he felt something was up, that he didn't want to suddenly be bitten in the butt, like the last time I announced I was unhappy. "So what the f***s up" he demanded and you know what I said "nothing, I'm not sure".
I just couldn't handle it, I switched on the comp, meaning to get him to read my blog, but he'd already picked up the phone and dialed a number , so I went and had a bath whilst he spoke to his cousin Linda. I lay in the bath thinking, "he'll see the blog, he'll read it, he'll understand" - But nope, subtlety once again proves fruitless.
So because I've reached an impasse and no longer feel able to verbalise I'm now unable to even begin trying to let him know what I'm feeling. Got so much going round my tiny brain there is no way for me to start releasing bits of it in case it all spurts out and I'm left in total freak mode and we end up saying things we don't really mean.
So this morning I got up an went for a walk, it was whilst walking in the dark, listening to the sea, that I also decided to do the "Special K" diet, you know the one where you eat kellogs cereal twice a day and have a balanced meal. If I cant control my feelings I can at least get some control in this area. Two bowls of cereal eaten and I'm feeling okay. Got soup planned for tonight - easy to do before rehearsals and K can heat up once he gets in from work.
Blueness surrounds this sorry soul but I know its not the end, nor the beginning, "life goes on and we just have to get over it". Maybe I can drown my sorrows in a box of special K?!?
