Dear Alex, and then what?
3rd February 2013
Dear Alex,
Dark orange burning penetrates blue, palest blue dusky sky, clouds slim, trails of airplanes passed leave white lines like arrows launched skyward. We are on our way home from seeing you.
You were sat in your chair, first time in a week. But you barely smiled, we got but two words from you. I play Pictionary with the kids, desperate for some kind of reaction/ interaction from you. There's none.
I put it down to the confusing week you have just had and your body and brain now taking far longer than someone who's never suffered a brain injury, to recover. I try not to let terrified feelings overtake, as I see this a 6 months regression. Surely that can't be? You must just be so so worn out.
Only those doubts creep in. Enough to make a hard week seem impossible, floundering on my own. I reach to my ear to play with the earring you got me years ago, as I always do, I find an empty space where it used to be, I've lost it, it's fallen out, I will never find it, it is too tiny.
It's not about the item I have lost, it's the implications, it's what it really means. You chose it when you could see. You chose it when you could decide things for yourself, make a decision. It all spirals, screaming in my head, a million negative thoughts about things we will never do again, no family walks, no camping holidays, you lighting the fire, me getting the kids to sleep. No beach days, and it just seems to go on and on and round and round severing any joy or happiness or any positivity from my mind.
It's also a year exactly tomorrow I moved everyone back in a week from France, leaving our dream behind in a blur of torn pieces, heading to an unknown new life. And exactly 16 months since you had the accident.
The kids start screaming over something and I slam the kitchen door. I sink to the floor. I sob so hard my chest, my sides they ache.
So today I had to make it alright, show the kids even though life fully broke me yesterday, I got up again today. I spent extra time watching them, thanking God I was blessed with another day to mother them. My smile is not huge, nor heartfelt, neither does it stay when people aren't looking.
I feel somewhat defeated if I am honest. No solution to the house, and still no way of doing anything about it.
And the question 'if I give up, well what then?' throbs in my mind.
But I won't because I don't even have that luxury!!
I need to do some hardcore giving thanks, try and take the gratitude medicine when all seems lost and futile.
Me xxxxxxx
Dear Alex,
Dark orange burning penetrates blue, palest blue dusky sky, clouds slim, trails of airplanes passed leave white lines like arrows launched skyward. We are on our way home from seeing you.
You were sat in your chair, first time in a week. But you barely smiled, we got but two words from you. I play Pictionary with the kids, desperate for some kind of reaction/ interaction from you. There's none.
I put it down to the confusing week you have just had and your body and brain now taking far longer than someone who's never suffered a brain injury, to recover. I try not to let terrified feelings overtake, as I see this a 6 months regression. Surely that can't be? You must just be so so worn out.
Only those doubts creep in. Enough to make a hard week seem impossible, floundering on my own. I reach to my ear to play with the earring you got me years ago, as I always do, I find an empty space where it used to be, I've lost it, it's fallen out, I will never find it, it is too tiny.
It's not about the item I have lost, it's the implications, it's what it really means. You chose it when you could see. You chose it when you could decide things for yourself, make a decision. It all spirals, screaming in my head, a million negative thoughts about things we will never do again, no family walks, no camping holidays, you lighting the fire, me getting the kids to sleep. No beach days, and it just seems to go on and on and round and round severing any joy or happiness or any positivity from my mind.
It's also a year exactly tomorrow I moved everyone back in a week from France, leaving our dream behind in a blur of torn pieces, heading to an unknown new life. And exactly 16 months since you had the accident.
The kids start screaming over something and I slam the kitchen door. I sink to the floor. I sob so hard my chest, my sides they ache.
So today I had to make it alright, show the kids even though life fully broke me yesterday, I got up again today. I spent extra time watching them, thanking God I was blessed with another day to mother them. My smile is not huge, nor heartfelt, neither does it stay when people aren't looking.
I feel somewhat defeated if I am honest. No solution to the house, and still no way of doing anything about it.
And the question 'if I give up, well what then?' throbs in my mind.
But I won't because I don't even have that luxury!!
I need to do some hardcore giving thanks, try and take the gratitude medicine when all seems lost and futile.
Me xxxxxxx
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