Good Grief 12

It has felt like a week of just hanging on mostly. The weird thing about grief is that you would think that the actual loss itself was quite enough to be getting on with thanks, but all sorts of other stuff seems to emerge to join the party. Anything that might have been lurking seems to emerge and shout, 'Hey! there's a party ... all invited ...' and all the dodgy neighbourhood characters come out of the shadows. Self esteem gets pissed and falls in a heap on the floor dribbling and gibbering; previous losses pop in ghoulishly as if mistakenly confusing it for Halloween and cry in a corner into their beer; all the things that have felt 'dealt with' in the past seem to have been on the dodgy drugs and loom in contorted, garish fairground fashion having been on the roller coaster and called by to throw up on your carpet. I think the pressure of work got a bit much this week and the sheer physiology and visceral quality of grief, which I don't think I've touched on much yet, just became a bit overwhelming. A walk after work helped.