I have been doing my usual, keeping busy. I have been out with other Mums to Beautylase, I have been to book club, I have crewed on a yacht and now booked the next two weeks up totally!
All of this was fun, but as the end of my academic year came I started to feel the cracks. Fun though being busy is, I am trying to fill a void, I am hoping if I carry on long enough the grieving will pass me by and I will not have noticed.
After Kevin died I went straight back to work and focussed on that. I threw myself into the Half Marathon and now whatever activity I can find, but you can't avoid grief, it catches up with you. I started (about mid June) to feel crabby and annoyed with people over little things. I was annoyed with people who gave me sympathy, I was annoyed with people who didn't. It didn't really make sense. One night, after book club I came home to find that the Menace was too scared to go to bed, he thought he was going to be kidnapped. I paid the babysitter, apologised and then carried him to bed. I then found myself crying and swearing at the photo of Kevin. I was angry that I had been left to pick up the mess. Once again my overiding emotion seems to be anger at this stage, I hate anger, it is such an ugly emotion, but the reality is (to use Kevin's neices words) this is not what I signed up for. This is not where I expected to be. I also find myself appalled at the stereotypical classification (not others - mine). When I think of a widow, I imagine someome much older than me. The term "single mum" doesn't sit easily with me either.
I also get annoyed with people's sudden romantic view of death and of Kevin. He was such a kind man, so noble etc, yes, yes. I want them to talk about him in real terms, not an ideal that they have drawn up. Personally I like my people slightly flawed, not perfect, perfect annoys me (what a surprise!). I was peeved to find at parent's evening that my son is also doing it. In his books he rights about his brave, calm (not a word I would have used to describe him) daddy. he also writes about his lovely soft dog (so not the one that nicks his toys etc) but he hasn't written anything about me. I felt peeved and left out. The other family members made it into his book, but not me. Obviously I haven't told him I am peeved, but I did feel it.
Recently I have felt raw and cracked, and we are reaching the time of year that I have been dreading. The six weeks off in the rain (inevitably). Lets just hope that I can pull myself together again for them. I told myself today that I don't want to feel like this, it is draining, the decision to move myself forward into an acceptance of my world is up to me.