Exactly what it says...
I saw my GP. She's lovely. She gave me a 2-week certificate, though I won't actually need it until next week. I'm planning to go back next week, anyway. I don't want to be off for longer than I need, and I think this extra bit of time will help. I rang my manager and explained, and she was fine - said she looked forward to seeing me next week, but to just let her know Sunday if I'm not ready. She also said if I need any further adjustments, to let her know. I told her I know what it is. It's the backwash from mum's passing. After she died, I knuckled down and just dealt with all the affairs, then took a couple of months to myself before going back to work. During those months, though, I was writing my book about those final months we spent together. It helped me - but I wasn't really grieving. I think that's what's happening now. Grief affects us all so differently, and it's finally caught up. I've been able to look at photographs without any problems up to now - but now I'm finding it hard. I looked at a photo yesterday of the first day I got Daisy. She was so nervous, she spent a while hiding behind the settee. Finally, she peeped out. Then, over the next half-hour, she sniffed around. She sniffed me and realised I wasn't going to hurt her. In no time, she was up on the settee cleaning herself. She came with me to mum's and gave her a lot of comfort. And now, she's my sole companion. I think if anything happened to her, it really would kill me. Cats have incredible intuition. She knows I'm low, and she cuddles up to me close each night when I go to bed.
I had the most terrible nightmare last night which underlined it all for me (and I'm sleeping huge amounts - dead sleep, without any alcohol involved). I dreamed I'd come back to my flat one night, but the lights wouldn't work. I managed to put my lamp on - but then it got switched off again. I sensed some malevolent presence there in the darkness. I checked the fuse boxes and just gave them a tap, and the lights all came on. The place was in a state. Wallpaper had been ripped down, furniture had been overturned - and there were tiny pellets of grey clay stuck over everything. Finally, in panic, I ran downstairs to my neighbour to tell him. He seemed to know. He said he'd seen a face at my window some days when I'd been out. He came up with me... and the place was in an even worse state. Completely wrecked. Then I went into the kitchen and saw this figure. It was like a child, but made entirely of this grey clay, like a Morph figure. It was trying to climb out of the window. I screamed to my neighbour that I could see it, and I threw things at it. I woke up then, screaming 'There it is!' Throughout this nightmare, the one thought in my head was 'At least I can go to mum's. She'll look after me.'
That was it. Those two things. Loss of the one person I could always go to - and fear of losing what I have left.
The subconscious is a remarkable reservoir of truth. It tells you what you need to know.
Like I said, I'm sleeping lots. Apart from that one big nightmare, too, my other dreams are extremely vivid.
Glad to hear you're feeling more positive.
Thanks. Still more fragile than I give myself credit for, though. When I drove back from the surgery, I found a parking space outside. I pulled up and indicated to parallel park. I went into reverse. Then I heard a loud beep, and 'BANG'... I ran into a car that was following me and hadn't realised what I was doing. I simply hadn't seen it in my mirror. I pulled around the corner and got out. The other driver was an older woman. I was shaken to bits by then. She could see the state I was in - I was almost in tears - and said forget it. The only damage was to her car - a cracked number plate. I offered to pay for it, but she wouldn't have it. It shook me up so much though. I'm still shaking over it now.
Oooh, a fender-bender is the last thing you needed Tom. I suppose you're lucky that was the extent of it - in scuffing the front of a considerate old dear's car. Of course, it makes the experience no less disconcerting for you. But, perhaps it's a useful bit of feedback for you, illustrating your mindset at the moment and that you just need to take that little bit extra care of yourself.
Of course, squiffy dreams don't make things easier too. But again, maybe that's just more feedback for you - your mind's way of providing much-needed data from which you can re-orientate yourself?
Hi Tom, I've only just read this thread. I'm so sorry about your grief and the pain of it all. I've been thinking about my dad more lately and wondered how you and others in the community who've been bereaved were coping with it all. Sorry you're having such a hard time.
I've bumped my car more than once - even a little bump can be traumatic.
Take care of yourself.