Watching hail bounce

The darkness of the wall here works well with that sense of the dark shutter that pulls itself across the mind.
Saturated.
I lay there thinking I can’t do this for another 10 years or more.
Stop projecting ahead. Unhelpful.
Overwhelmed and tearful.
It went downhill from Monday.
I knew from our first rather disturbing meeting that he reminded me of dad.
That piercing intensity. That tension.
But I persuaded myself it was fine. I could separate and I did.
This second time I thought how very different.
But then this time I realised what I had only unconsciously realised the first time. It was the smell. I could hardly bear it. I can’t describe it, but then that is how it is with the smell of humans. I wouldn’t have known I knew it until I smelt it.

Suddenly I am aware of sentences, paragraph breaks and full stops.

I want to put fresh air and space between

that

and the next.



I wish for the smell of my husband, of him. I can’t remember it any more.
I was able to be more of myself with him. I was able to be more of a daughter. For some reason it was just so much easier. I was able to be more fully myself and I’m not really sure what I mean. I think I was able to engage more fully in the world of others and family.

So much seems so overwhelming. I just seem to be so tearful.
Everything is getting me down; work, my unsustainable life, the driving, the coal (I get so much comfort from my fire when so little else seems comforting), the weather ....

The job can feel like the only thing that seems to be a bit useful even if I feel out of my depth, overwhelmed and shit at it (and that is even with having had a couple of days off the week before last).

Hearing from my friend that her daughter has had another fit after going so long without and we all thought her epilepsy was stabilised has just been the last straw. I feel so bloody helpless. And so sad ... universally sad.
No bad thing perhaps... the sadness of the universe.

I need to watch the hail bounce, get up, and ‘see into the life of things’.

... as I sit and write now, the next morning, it feels like decompression and having the bends ...
And Monday again tomorrow...