Sunday 5 June 2016

C word

I'm in one of those grey moods again. It's been a while, I count several things this Sunday that have spiralled me into a dark cloud.

 Jones is away and I have grown so used to seeing him so often the separation, however short it may be, is difficult.

 I was unable, due to unforeseen circumstances, to do what I wanted to do this sunny day.

 I have retreated to my room now, but it doesn't feel like my room anymore. I have tried to rectify this by adding maps and note boards to the wall behind me but it hasn't helped, not really.

 It's Sunday and I have work tomorrow-so everyone always feels the Sunday night blues.

 Miss Havisham has opened up to me today and it's rattled my bones. I'm not good with counselling. I'm not the best friend type because I'm not the person who can always be there for you, who drops things instantly for others. I am too often consumed in my own little world, I lose myself in fantasies and have little-to no interest in the politics of everyone else's lives.

  I listened and tried to react appropriately but all I wanted to do was return home to my own mother and confide in her, hug her, and tell her not to ever keep anything important from me. No matter where I am in the world she is still my mother and I will be there for her if and when she needs me. This is what I was thinking as Miss Havisham spoke to me, I wanted to retreat but I felt like I was all she'd got, so I couldn't turn away.

I listened to Miss Havisham and it was difficult for me. I don't do this. I don't want to do this, but I feel obligated. Then to throw a bit of a bombshell on me I kind of had to hold myself together and be regimental about the whole thing. I wanted Jones. I wanted his logical approach to a situation like this. It might turn out to be nothing. It may well be a false alarm and all will be well. I hope it's nothing. I do not want to be the person facing this, if it comes down to it, because I'm not the right person for it. And I have no idea how He will react to this sort of thing should it be that.

But inside I think I'm morally contracted to deal with this if it turns out to be that dreaded reality. What if this is some sort of unearthly calling? What if I am the one chosen to deal with this because I morally cannot turn away? Because I know the right thing to do. I am the sort of person to do the right thing.

I am not the support type. I'm not the carer, or the advisor. I'm not a shoulder to cry on or a therapist. I just don't have it in me. I don't even believe in half of the issues people claim to be dealing with in their heads every day. But I do believe in Cancer. Everyone believes in Cancer.
I don't know if I believe in God. I can never make up my mind.
But I pray to something that this is nothing. It all turns out to be a false alarm.
Miss Havisham will be fine and I can go on the way I was before.
Please, please be a false alarm.
I have no idea how to deal with sort of thing if it does turn out to be that, and death frightens me. I cannot watch people as they lose people. I've watched several people say goodbye to their loved ones and each time I've had zero idea how to even relate to the situation. I have never lost anyone and I feel as if this might be a vile trick Death is playing on me. Waiting until my guard is down before he snatches away people who I love.

I don't love Miss Havisham. But I know someone who does, and I don't want to witness their grief. I'm not even thinking about Jones, I have a rough if perhaps jaded idea of his opinions on such matters. It's the bulldog of the family I am concerned about.

Of course I cannot keep secrets from Jones. It's impossible. She doesn't understand that.
He's away and it's driving me to distraction, into a grey mood because I know and he doesn't.
I won't spoil his trip. The bulldogs with him too and I couldn't bare to consider his reaction. Please, please turn out to be nothing.  I will wait until they're back. In the meantime I have to deal with this dread, just her and me, and hope it turns out to be nothing.


No comments:

Post a Comment