I am terrified I am spiraling down a rather long dark path again. It's occurred to me a number of times of the last few weeks. And there is no one thing that I can pinpoint that has made me feel this way, I can only admit to a number of things that have made me feel fragile, scared, raw, numb and out of control.
I miss my Mum in a way I never thought I would. I always knew that I would miss her physical presence, her smile, her hugs, her 'I love you's. I accepted that her home would feel strange without her in it. That I would expect to feel her there when I visited. In fact I don't that much. My parents home is always pristine, it is one of those homes that you could invite people to view at any given moment, there were never magazines, books, knitting or random things lying about, nothing for me to physically miss. All things had a proper place, all things were put away and stored where they were supposed to be. It still does. So yes, I miss her and yes I miss her sitting in her place at the kitchen table or being in her favourite chair in the lounge or the sight of her sitting up in bed when I pass her room. But more than that I MISS her. Do any of you out there know what I mean?
I simply haven't got a Mum any more. Oh I know I have, she will always be my Mum, that death doesn't steal the relationship or love we shared. But the here and now is that I am Mum-less. And there are times it completely floors me how much I ache for her, what I wouldn't give to have just one more day with her.
Add to that my Dad. I love my Dad but we have shared an odd relationship over the years. I have never felt quite good enough, a bit of a disappointment to him, so many things that over the years I have felt he hasn't approved of. I can never remember him telling me he loves me.
Sex at the age of 16.
Leaving home and 'carrying on' out on the town at 21.
Marrying a black man at the age of 27.
Never managing to put any money into savings age 30.
Getting fat age 35.
I have felt the weight of his disappointment all through my life. But I love him, I love him utterly and his disapproval has coloured my life. Now there is just him. No Mum to cushion the relationship, to bridge the gap in us. Just him and me.
I visit him 2 or 3 times a week and we talk more than we have done for many many years. Finally I have seen hints in his words and actions that show his love for me, that express his approval and recognition of the person I have become.
He is sad and lonely and feels he has no purpose anymore, he had made it his personal aim to out live my Mum so he could take care of her. He has achieved it and he now feels he doesn't really have a reason to go on. I know that his one small pleasure is his garden, its winter and damp, cold and dreary, not the weather to go out and potter outside. Especially at 87 and only 2 weeks after a bout of bronchitis and 3 weeks after an operation!
Anyway, as with any elderly parent he gives me cause for concern. I hate the thought of him being sad and yet feel powerless to do anything. I hate the thought of him being lonely and yet he declines all offers of company, invitations and visits. I hate the thought that he has no future to look forward to as such and yet have no answers in the face of his determination to remain in the past.
And I am utterly terrified of losing him too. It means I will then have to grow up, be a grown up myself......
And then of course there is K. I must be totally fucking mad!!! I had just about got myself to a place I could function. Just about, it had been 20 months and he was still my first waking thought and the last when I closed my eyes but at least i thought I knew it was over, that I had to get over it. And now it appears I am back up to my neck in it! We are in contact each and every day, many times a day. We utter I love you's and forevers. We shared 'intimate' moments of a sexual nature (he is my sex life). We chat by phone as often as is possible and have plans for lunch together in a mere 11 days.
Of course you could just accuse him of having his cake and eating it too. And I don't blame you. Except he isn't. He has told me we can't be intimate in real life, that its too much of a betrayal. (Yeah yeah, how can he make love to me with words, tell me he loves me, chat to me for hours, write me poems and send me pictures and it not count as a betrayal? How the hell do I know!!) and yet that is the way he sees it, its the way he can cope with sharing his time, days, thoughts, emotions with me. Quite frankly I would rip any mans head off that had even a smidgen of the intimacy that we shared with another woman, sex or no sex!! But hey, thats me.
And so once again I find myself dangerously embroiled in a love affair that can only end in tears, probably for us both but its mine I am most concerned about.
So I feel my days are spent walking a tightrope, teetering on the edge of a precipice that I might tumble into, crashing through this thin veneer of happiness if I allow myself to wallow in any of these emotions, and that once tumbling I shall just free-fall myself back into a bucket of Happy-Pills once again.......and one of the worst things? I can't tell K, one of my best friends, the one I tell all too. He has just let slip to me this very morning that he thinks his wife is heading for another bout of depression in response to their being issues with his son.....so how can I tell him that his long-distance-lover is also turning into a nutball.........