No matter what i do at the moment, it’s not quite good enough.
I need to push myself harder. Deal With It. Big girl panties on, suck it up.
It’s been five weeks and you now have to return to Normal, whether it will fry your brain or not.
Everyone has an opinion on me, at the moment. Everyone has an idea, a standard.
And I don’t live up to most of them.
I am not Mothering well enough.
Truth be known, and I know it (people seem to think I’m in denial, I’m running away, when i am facing this every fucking day) I disconnected from the entire world when this happened.
Fuck it, wouldn’t you?
I disconnected and lost myself. I lost Lori. I lost Lori-Mum. I lost Lori-Wife. I lost everything.
All those connections, they are just starting to come back now. Connections to the real world. The problems of Life. The problems around me.
Slowly, slowly. Because it hurts. It feels like new growth in my brain. Every time one of those tiny neural pathways connects to another, and my mind rebuilds itself from the shock and horror it’s been through, it hurts.
Connecting hurts. It’s exhausting. I’m exhausted.
The connection with my kids has been back for a while now. I ache for them, worry about them, love them with my soul.
And I thought it was OK. To just float for a bit longer. To let someone else get their juice and sandwiches, change their nappies. And i could give them cuddles and play with them and just be around and start to get my life back together.
But apparently not. I’ve been ‘lucky’ and had help for as long as people can tolerate me. And everyone is at the end of their tether. I have asked for too much, been too weak. Show my softness far too much.
Now, I’ve been told. Pull My Head In. Get Back To Routine. Or we will Take Your Children Off You.
I’m being selfish, you see. Selfish and self indulgent and a bit hysterical and really, Lori, get it together.
So… I am.
I don’t have a choice in it, really.
I’ve never felt more alone in my life.
As I said, everyone has an opinion. I’m people’s favorite subject to talk about at the moment, the people I know spend hours doing it.
And the consensus is always the same. Lori needs to Get On With It (I am, damn it, can’t you see I’m trying? What more do you want me to do??).
And everyone’s against me, or so it feels. No support here. Not until I Get Myself Together.
Support, I’ve found, it’s conditional, a lot of time. It will be given. But only if you are acting in an acceptable, socially correct way. keeping your grief contained. Not writing about it, not talking about it.
If I talk, if I complain, people give me a million excuses. For why I’ve been deserted. (“Other people have their own lives, they need to get on with them. And so do you”).
No one can just hold me and say “I know. It’s all fucked.”
Everyone tries to make it better, to make me better, by pushing it all away.
What if this is as good as it gets?