Sunday, December 28, 2014

Last Sunday of 2014

I am by no means a Nicole Kidman fan but she's been on my mind a lot lately. I remember reading that she named her daughter Sunday because when she was single and lonely she dreaded Sundays. With her husband and baby in her life she came to look forward to them as her favourite time. 

Since we lost Marcel, I too have dreaded Sundays, for the first time in my life.

When I was single, before I met Mr B, in the days post-breakup from a gross ex, on Sundays I was either out and drunk, or too busy recovering from being out and drunk to worry about loneliness. Nicole's reasoning for the name resonated with Mr B, unlike me he'd felt the same dread of Sundays when he was younger and felt like something was missing. 

Lately, even when I've had a brilliant week, weekend, even Sunday mornings, Sunday nights have been awful. It's the time I should be laying on the lounge with a 14 kilo snoring hot water bottle on me, no matter the temperature. Mr B should be in the kitchen, conjuring something delicious, while Marcel  and I watch some trashy downloads on the laptop, him usually the first to give Mr B a dirty look if he dared make too much noise. I would cop one too if I dared move, because sometimes I would have to readjust when my legs went to sleep. The best times. 

Even now, when I well and truly know better, I just had to retype that last sentence in to past tense. I forget the snoring hot water bottle days are over and remember quickly why I'm dreading my Sundays. 

I had an awesome day today. Early morning walk and coffee with Mr B, a quick swim, breakfast with my mum who is up for a few days, another swim and reading in the sand, seeing St Vincent at the movies, which was brilliant, eating too much popcorn, then home for an early night. Still the sadness has crept in and my thoughts can't leave my boy. 

Having never been one to wish my life away, I just cannot wait for 2014 to be done with. This is the last Sunday of the year and I am willing it to be over. I think of Nicole when I think that there will be better Sundays ahead. 

Friday, December 26, 2014

Merry Christmas

I had every intention of doing nothing in Christmas Day, and by nothing I mean nothing. No running around between parents' houses, no having everyone back at our place for drinks in the afternoon, no buying pointless presents and definitely no receiving presents that I don't want or need. The mass consumerism was making me ill in the lead up, I just didn't want to be a part of it. We agreed no presents, no buying crap for the sake of it, it's less than six weeks until we go away and we're spending more than enough cash dollars on that!

I'd seen my mum in Melbourne last weekend, my dad was going away and Mr B's mum was undecided til the last minute, so she snoozed she losed! I couldn't deal with any drama this year, I just didn't have the strength. 

We didn't end up doing nothing but it was an easy, relaxing day full of friends and a lot of drinks. On Christmas Eve we saw a friend and he insisted on us coming around to his place for lunch. It was a mishmash of random people, their house is like a drop in centre, but aren't they the best days? So grateful for good friends and that we didn't end up sitting around the house being miserable. 

We woke up, tried to sleep in but failed (again), went and got coffee (bless the lovely Greek family that open up one of the beach kiosks on Christmas Day), had a swim and went to lunch. I had my cry in the morning, not helped by opening a beautiful ornament with Marcel's name on it given by a friend, but pulled myself together so we could have a good day. And I'm so glad we did. 

So today we've cruised around, been out for breakfast and are currently roasting the chicken we were going to have yesterday. Sydney turned on the weather this morning, but I'm sitting here in my trackies while the chicken cooks, the temperature had dropped so much. Perfect roast weather, fine by me. 

I hope you had a great day with those dear to you. Merry Christmas for 2014. 


Monday, December 8, 2014

On moving on

I've spent the afternoon sitting on the sand, on one if those rare Sydney summer afternoons when the nor-easter isn't howling and half the city isn't at the beach. The old cliche of the ocean healing has never been more true for me than it has been the last month. Sydney's unpredictable thunderstormy weather has put a stop to that this week, and down has gone my mood.

Today I was back in the water. Workday washed away, tears hidden when they spring, my mind unable to think of anything other than ducking, breathing. 

Well meaning advice has floated past me. I nod, offer a token smile on one side, it's easier to end the conversation this way. I don't know what moving on or time healing means yet. I know it will happen and it can't be far away. Yet I don't want it. I want the memories strong and I torture myself with what ifs. I don't want to get used to it but I don't want the shock when I remember, because I forget. The joy and the good memories creep in every now and then. This comes as a surprise and I hold onto them when they do. 

I have kept my 'work face' on pretty well. I've been surrounded by so much kindness. I've been shielded from dickheads, cried with a senior manager over the years old loss of his dog, been covered for on the times the tears just didn't stop. Without any fanfare, someone who I didn't expect to gave me a key ring with Marcel's picture on it. She wrote me the loveliest note, telling me that when she lost her dad and everyone moved on she was afraid she'd forget him. I can't imagine, but I can. 

Every morning I am still bolt upright at 530. I wonder how long it will take my body clock to realise I don't need to be up. I've gone to morning gym classes, but getting home after Mr C has gone to works to an empty, silent house, is worse than staring at the ceiling in the dark. I can't walk without him, what's the point? I have had a wake up call to start looking after myself properly, stress does not do very nice things to the human body. The physical and the emotional can't fall down at the same time. 

I'm not myself and won't be again. I feel like a different person and my life feels completely not mine. 

I have started booking us a trip next year. Something I should be over the top excited for just feels like something to do to fill my days. For this I feel ungrateful. I have filled every spare minute with so many plans, anything to not have time to dwell, to be always on the move. 

I know all of this will change and will keep on changing. Everything will keep on changing. 

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