Sunday 30th August
“I try to take one day at a time.
Several days attack me at once.”
How true is that statement?
For quite some time now I have been holding it together. Well, I’d like to think so; my outward appearance gives that impression, whilst inside I’m filled with sadness and grief.
Every now and again I have a little help from prescription pills, but I don’t like to take them regularly. I do take St. John’s wort though, every morning, (supposedly nature’s prozac), and I do believe it does take the edge off of stressful situations or episodes of depression.
Today whilst out with my husband, mum and sister, (our regular Sunday ‘shop and lunch’), I felt ‘funny’. A strange tightening in my throat and neck, pain in my head and stomach. Most unnerving. My husband is convinced it was a panic attack. But I don’t panic. I’m sensible, I’m calm, I don’t worry, I’m level-headed. Or I would like to think so. But today, I just didn’t feel right.
Maybe several days were attacking me all at once. Maybe my grief just wanted an outlet, and bubbled up to the surface for a while. Maybe last night I didn’t really sleep properly and was awoken by a nightmare, silently screaming.
It took a bit of time, but sitting down, making an effort to breathe slowly and deeply, the tightness around my throat and chest began to lessen. My hands no longer gripped the edge of the table so firmly.
Was it a panic attack? I really don’t know. But I didn’t like the way I felt. Most unusual.
I do know that I think about you constantly: right from the moment I wake up, when I see your photograph on my bedside table; throughout every minute of the day; during the time spent at your graveside; to the evening when I close your curtains; and then when I sleep, when I try to have happy dreams about you.
I miss you so much.
Sending love and kisses and hugs.
Sweet Angel of mine.