I’ve been lying to my loved ones. Which was okay….until it wasn’t.

Some days I kick serious arse. I knock being a Wife/Lover/Friend out of the park, I am acutely aware of my friends and families troubles, I can offer advice around the clock, I am there for everyone above the capacity I would normally think it humanly possible. I am the best employee, a great daughter and a best friend. I am engaging, mature, educated and confident. This can go for a day, a few days, a week or sometimes (though rarely…) an entire month.

But then, it hits me. I can’t get out of bed, I don’t go to work. If I am at work, I may as well not be. I become agitated at everything, I start small arguments for no reason…I have my “spikes out” as my Mum described my aura in those moments. I don’t answer texts, I can’t even shave my legs, let alone wash my hair.

I am haunted by melancholia. I don’t think that is too strong of a word for the situation, because I feel nothing but deep and persistent sadness and dread. Like I am covered with the heaviest, darkest and wettest blanket of sadness and hopelessness.

It’s f*cking awful when I feel that way. I have no idea how it makes my friends/family/Husband feel.

The last few months, I have had some low moments, a few high moments – but in general – mostly stayed along the baseline of any personality test.

The last two months I have lied and said I was busy, cancelled plans because I was busy, avoided spending the night at my Mum’s house when I went to visit (it is a four hour return drive and I still could not stay overnight), because I was busy and not picked up phone calls/responded to text messages, because I was…busy.

I have been busy fighting irrational thoughts, been busy breathing, I have been busy compartmentalising my thoughts and been busy taking a moment/s to myself. I have kept myself busy cleaning my house, cleaning my heart and cleaning my mind. I was busy silencing the pecking crows in my brown, busy trying to keep the negative Nancy’s at bay and been busy trying to regulate my heartbeat.

Mostly I have been busy putting me first.

I have missed a stack of parties, an engagement party, a wedding, two concerts, one going away party and an opportunity to see a friend who has been living in Dubai for two years. Bad friend, huh?

I flipped my own life on its head – I stopped sharing. I have made a conscious effort not to rant and rave via text/phone/in person whenever something or someone upsets me. Obviously this is a lesson I should have learned years ago, I am in my thirties after all…HOWever I am getting a grasp of it now. In the best possible way in which I can.

This week I lost control. I lost control big time. I found myself uncontrollably crying for three days. Not small crying. You’ve seen my last post. That was something so dark, I haven’t had it in years.

My Husband found me crying in the shower. Almost catatonic with grief. Overwhelming sadness.

I had to be honest with myself. What could be causing this? Is it the anniversary of my Father passing, or is it something else?

It is probably too much for one post. My break down was on Tuesday/Wednesday. The rest of the week was rough. It’s now Saturday night. I might leave it for now.

But please. PLEASE. Don’t be silent. If it’s more than relaxing/having “me” time or just taking a minute. If your silence is drastically different to your personality. If you’re having thoughts which are dark and potentially threatening to your health and wellbeing. Pick up the phone. Speak up. Ask for help. Do not suffer in silence.

I will share more of my story shortly. I am not sure if anyone is reading, but I think for my own mental health I need to document this.

Wishing you all a happy, kind and loving weekend.

Lucy

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Grief: Even when I know what’s coming, I’m never prepared for how it feels.

Grief. It’s a bastard of an emotion. I’m currently on my commute to work (read: public transport of all methods), and I’ve spent the entire journey crying. 

Those hot, heavy, sorrow filled tears. I am sorry if you know the tears I am talking about. They rarely come with anything less than destructive and devastating memories. 

Thank goodness for dark sunglasses and everyone else absorbed with their phones, otherwise this would be spectacle. 

Ten years ago, everyone around me would have noticed. Ten years ago people read books on the bus and texted. We weren’t completely absorbed by our phones. Today I am thankful for the destractiob. I too can be lost in my phone. Ten years ago (almost…) we lost our Father. Our families Husband, Father to three and friend to all died. 

Our father had been ill for some time, but this is not what took him. Which was so cruel as he had worked so hard to fight his sickness for so long. To then die after a routine procedure in hospital – 1200km away from his family. I can’t imagine. 

Yes. It has almost been ten years. So why am I sitting on a bus today crying? Why have I spent the last three days crying? 

I have this every year as it approached the date. Every year. However today and this week, I am less in control than I normally am. 

My heart hurts. My soul is aching. For ten years I have fought to keep my head above water, me and mine. My small family. Just the four of us. Fighting to keep going, fighting to stay above the water. Fighting the world. Fighting each other. Hurting. 

It’s a cruel twist of fate that the anniversary of dad’s passing is always the same week as Father’s Day, here in Australia. How f*cking cruel is that? The first anniversary was ON Father’s Day. 

All else aside – I seem to have lost my strength. I’ve hit this ten year mark and I’m out of steam. I’m so desperately sad. I miss him. He wasn’t at my wedding. He hasn’t met his grandchildren. So many life events. I am crying not for me but for him. You aren’t meant to die at 50. I know plenty of people do – and I guess I have always used this as a coping mechanism. 

He had a good life. 

People die much younger. 

We loved him and he knew that. 

I had a great childhood. 

Etc. 

It’s not helping this week. My sadness is palpable. Breathing hurts. When my alarm went off this morning I started crying again. When I showered last night the water was so hot that all I could think was “did they use warm water when they washed dads body? Did they wash it?”. That’s morose I know. Here I am though. 

So what do I do? How do you deal with long-term grief? Why has it hit me now? Is it the ten – year mark? Does life-healing work? Where do I go? Who can actually help with this?

Please help me. If you know how I should try to deal with these feelings (psychologist?, kineseologist?, yoga?). I don’t know. 

Sending love & thanks. M

Lucy

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