Okay so most people have noticed the absence of new blog posts. Some of you even wrote to me in Spanish to ask what the hell was going on. At first I thought you were trying to sell me Viagra or penis enlargement pills but Google translate revealed that no, TC actually has fans that speak Spanish. I don't know why you're writing to me in Spanish when I clearly speak English, but I loved that you tried and it gave me a good opportunity to try and increase my knowledge of other languages. I failed in that endeavour, in case you were curious but my buddy Google was there to help me out. Anyway, I digress.
The reasons for the absence of the blog is two-fold.
1.) My husband has just had major back surgery; and
2.) the lead up to the back surgery has been ugly and I'm officially wrecked.
Hence the absence of the blog posts. I cannot write when I'm miserable. Well, that's not strictly true. I can write when miserable and it's beautiful writing if I do say so myself. Vivid, emotive and almost 100% likely to trigger a call to the Mental Health Crisis Team followed by a short stay in a room with no sharp anything. So, no happy blog posts and not even enough energy to write an explanation for their absence.
The lead-up to the surgery was nothing short of a living nightmare. Without going into details, let me just say that pain can make people insane and drive them to do and say things they wouldn't normally do and say. And that even if you know that, the things those people do and say to you can still hurt like a bitch and make you question your worth. It was surreal - like being in a bad movie made for day time television.
I had, naively as it turns out, thought that I would get a break once the big man was actually in the hospital. I figured that even if he didn't feel better and drop the Mr Hyde persona, he would be out of the house and my mood would improve and I'd get back into the swing of things. I did not count on just how much I rely on the presence of that man, angry or otherwise, to sleep. It's true, I never get as much sleep as I need when he's on business trips but those business trips have never really been for longer than a week and they've never been accompanied by so much stress and worry. I had no idea how dependent I was until now.
So when he did go into hospital I was quite upset to discover that when I'm alone in the ridiculously phallic bed the best I can get is six hours tops, all of it light and broken. The back surgery was largely successful, but there's still some more to do so instead of eight nights in hospital, it's now looking like closer to three weeks or more. And slowly the effects of my insomnia are gathering speed and power. I am now barely functioning and it's starting to show. So far this week I have;
* Forgotten where my children are and what time I'm meant to pick them up on at least three occasions.
* Forgotten that I was supposed to be visiting my aunt until she called me to ask where I was.
* Fallen asleep on the dining table at my mother-in-law's this morning when collecting my children.
* Done the shopping on three separate days and each time completely forgotten all of the essentials that were on my list and, on one occasion, I returned home from the "big shop" to discover that I had enough food to make precisely one dinner. The rest were ingredients that got me halfway to a couple of tasty dishes, but not enough to achieve any of them even by fudging it with stuff from the pantry and freezer. Cases in point; pizza bases but nothing to go on them. Noodles and broccoli for stir fry but nothing else to go in it. No meat whatsoever.
* Forgotten what day it is repeatedly, going so far as to dress my small son for daycare and drive him there before I remembered that it was a Saturday.
* Completely failed to realise that the person introducing themselves to me is actually the sister of a good friend and not just a random.
* On three days, forgotten to eat until I was at the point where I was feeling like I was going to pass out and my peripheral vision was closing in (about five in the afternoon).
* Left my poor ancient dog out in the rain on the coldest night so far this Summer without even feeding her dinner.
My poor little babies are already stressed about Daddy not being here. Having a mother go over the edge is out of the question. So I spend most of my energy trying to fake it until I can make it again. When I discovered I had nothing in the way of breakfast for them because I'd spent four days by myself mostly at the hospital, I stayed up baking banana bread which I proceeded to pass off as "breakfast cake". It has taken me a solid week of preparation but everything I need for Charlotte's first day of school is waiting on the dining room table. Hat, dress, freshly shined shoes, socks, undies, drink bottle, Foogo, school bag... I will be the mother they need and deserve if it kills me.
And every night after they go to bed I spend all my time manically cleaning everything so in the morning they will wake to clean clothes to wear, clean dishes to eat off and a house that appears to be functioning, as long as you don't scratch the surface too hard. Charles has told me that while I feel like my life has all of the stability of a space station on re-entry and that I'm falling apart, this is the most "together" I've ever looked in my life. House clean, diet under control, exercising, acting like Mary Poppins in the presence of the children, the whole shebang.
But secretly I wonder what the cost of all this is going to be at the end. I am beginning to feel so thin and stretched that I feel like I'm going to tear into a million tiny pieces or crumble into dust. I don't know that I will ever have enough sleep to feel whole again. I don't know that I can cry enough tears to vent all of my anger, frustration and fear. I don't know how to put myself back together again and I've got no idea what I'll be like if I ever do manage that. I have begun to feel somewhat detached and separate from my life and the people in it. It's almost as though everything is happening to someone else and I'm watching it down a telescope. It feels surreal. I'm sure it's something my brain has helpfully done in order to help me cope but how does one turn that off and go back to being "normal"?
This is not living. It's not even really coping. It's just existing...trying to anchor yourself and be stable in a state of flux as best you can. I don't really know what you're supposed to do in these situations but for now I'm going with "fake it until you make it". No matter how weird it feels to keep going through the motions, I plan to keep right on going until I either break or I snap back into focus and life gets back on track. And a big part of that will be trying to resume writing this blog...for all of you, including my Spanish friends.
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