Wow, I can't believe I haven't written anything here for 2 months now. Starting this blog was such a crucial step in my grieving process, but for the past 2 months it's almost as if I've been too busy to grieve and too busy to vent. Of course I am still grieving. Not a day goes by where I don't cry for Brian and for the new life I didn't want but now have to live. The smallest things have the ability to send me spiralling into cess-pit of tears, snot and self-pity. The bigger things yank me straight back into the darkest days at the beginning of this entire mess. Horrible bleak moods accompanied by thoughts too disturbing to contemplate. Whilst most people in my life have been supportive and understanding, there is small contingency who seem to think I haven't suffered enough yet. It's amazing how something as tragic as this can show you so much of how people really are, the true depth of their compassion and empathy. Or lack thereof.
The past two months have been taken up by a constant cycle of working, sleeping and intoxication. I have kept as busy as humanly possible as a kind of coping strategy. Not to forget, but to make every day go that bit faster and have some kind of purpose attached to it. If I'm living one day at a time, I currently want those days to go as fast as they can. Sleep now comes much easier but doesn't bring much release, especially when I've found myself plagued by dreams of Brian. Some where he's survived the fall. Some where he's leaving me and I'm begging him desperately not to go. Others where he speaks to me and I wake tearful and depressed because I can't remember what he said. Despite this there are days where I don't want to leave my cocoon and face the world of shit that is now my life. There are days when I quite literally drag myself out of bed and to work, out of sheer necessity for survival, and my legs almost refuse to carry me to the bus stop. I ache. Constantly. Not just in body, but in mind. I have been pushed to the limits by my job, by people's lack of compassion, by pure grief and I find myself being pushed further every day.
Despite all this I have noticed some improvements, if you could call them that. There are times that I can talk about Brian without crying. There are days where I don't constantly re-live the events of that day and the weeks afterwards. I can go out and genuinely have fun with my friends and not feel guilty for living my life. I can cry without it lasting for hours on end. Yesterday marked exactly 4 months since his death and I didn't even realise until the early hours of this morning, after it had passed. I felt a mixture of surprise and guilt. The 3 month mark was incredibly difficult and weighed on my mind for the next week. How could I not notice it had been exactly 4 months? Is that an improvement, a sign of getting better or is it a sign that I'm forgetting? I don't want to forget him.
But behind these achievements it seems there are always things lurking, waiting to take them away from me. I have two significant black clouds looming over my head at this point. One is my dire financial situation, a part of life that has always caused me massive amounts of stress. The other is my job, which I have to go to to avoid my financial situation going from dire to cataclysmic, but which is only helping to compound my grief. I remember my GP suggesting that I go back to work less than a week after the funeral to start introducing some "normality" and routine into my life. Obviously I couldn't manage it so soon, but after only 2 months I returned to work full time. 2 months. That's no time at all. Other survivors speak of not being able to function enough to work until nearly a year later. I returned after 2 months. Mostly out of necessity, partially out of trying this whole routine thing my GP talked about. I must admit that were it not for work, I would be rotting away doing nothing most days and wouldn't have a purpose for getting out of bed. And there are days when I find my work seriously rewarding and am almost glad to be there. But those days are few and far between.
I am currently facing a disciplinary hearing at work, over an allegation that was made out of... what? Spite? Vindictiveness? An astonishing lack of compassion and empathy for a care home? I really don't understand why. There's certainly a large element of hypocrisy and lack of understanding in there. I can't go into too much detail as I know I'm being watched (tinfoil hat moment), but needless to say the allegation itself doesn't stand up to much scrutiny and I will fight to have any warnings over-turned. I have been through far too much in the past few months, in my entire life, to lay down now and stop fighting. My emotions have been so fucked up by this whole fiasco that I don't know where I am. I have flip flopped back and forth between crushing pain and despair to seething rage, which has helped to keep me pushing forward rather than fall back again. Apparently I haven't suffered enough in the eyes of these people. Maybe I'm just an easy target, after all I've had attempts made to push me out of the company before, attempts that failed miserably and only made the perpetrator look like the reprehensible cunt that they are. Maybe this is another one of those? I feel betrayed, let down, confused and angry. Like I said, major tragic events can show you so much of what people really are inside. They may claim to be understanding, they may claim to be on your side, but their true colours can be blinding.
Amongst all this though, there have been happier times. I have strived to keep going as much as I can, to seize every opportunity that comes my way and to enjoy life as much as possible. There are times when it's a struggle and I have to lock myself away for a cry, but I battle on. I recently went to see VNV Nation at Corporation and had to fight back tears for the majority of the show. After they played Illusion I had to literally lock myself in the toilets and sob for the next song. After the gig I had the opportunity to meet Ronan Harris and tell him that whilst I'd been really looking forward to seeing them, I'd been dreading it because of Brian's suicide and the fact that almost every song of theirs makes me cry. I felt like a pathetic 15-year old fan-girl version of myself for confiding that in him, but I got a hug for my trouble and he seemed to be truly sympathetic.
This past weekend I went to the Damnation festival in Leeds, one that Brian and I had been to last year and were both looking forward to this year. I had hoped that this year we'd do it properly, book a decent hotel together and have an amazing weekend. Unfortunately that didn't happen and being back in that building without him was very trying. I found myself looking around hoping to see him and feeling so sad when I knew he wasn't there. I cursed every happy looking couple I saw there. I did enjoy my day, but it just wasn't the same without him. I don't know how long it will be until I can go back to that Union building and not feel so empty, so alone in a crowded room.
Now I'm facing the winter and some more painful realities. I didn't think the idea of Christmas would bother me so much, since we were only together for one. Now that the adverts have started I'm actually dreading Christmas. I have never felt this way about this time of year. I always used to look forward to it. Now I want to hibernate until at least March. November also brings what would have been his 31st birthday. I remember last year that out of the blue he asked me to come to Birmingham with him for his meal out and to meet his family. I remember being so excited that this must really be serious! I remember being so nervous about meeting his family but being so pleased that it all seemed to go really well and we had a nice time. Now a year later I'm contemplating going to the crematorium on his birthday. It just isn't right. It isn't fair. There isn't much more I can say than that. I desperately want my old life back.
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