I had an odd week last week. Hubs had to stay home to look after me one day, which unless I’d had surgery, was unheard of before now. Archie came in to kiss me goodnight, surveyed the state of me, then kissed me on my head. The next morning he appeared beside my bed and decided that I still wasn’t well as, ‘You’re so pale Mama.’ Hubs took me to the doctor, I got told to carry on as I was and just ride it out. I carried on with the paracetamol, fluids and bed rest.
I basically did nothing for three and a half days, went back to work on Friday; managed an hour then came home again.
Picture credit: The wonderful C.Cassandra, Hubs got me her KickStarter package for my birthday last year. http://www.cassandracalin.com/comics-nottoday.html
I did watch the new season of Queer Eye, as I’d been saving it up for when I felt rotten and I’m so glad I did. It was beautiful. If I could sprinkle as much love and consideration through the world as the Fab Five, I’ll be a happy woman.
And on my last day in bed I realised that if I changed my VPN location, I unlocked the different programs on the Netflix. To say I was filthy about not realising this before now would be an understatement. I could have watched the US The Office from start to finish by now. Oh well.
All in all, not much to report. Although the funny thing we’ve noticed in our group chat about Erika, is our lows are synced. We all seem to struggle on the same day or night. HellCat said today that the chat is a nice place to hang out because we can all say what we feel and not worry about being told to ‘Get over it’.
I’m in the middle of it, I don’t want to get over it or get used to it yet. I spend my entire life trying not to feel emotions (Helloooo alcohol!) I want to honour Erika and ride this out properly by feeling it and being with it. Which is why when I got upset watching Arch play in the pool after his swimming lesson, I let the tears fall. I said to Hubs that I was worried that I hadn’t done enough and that I was missing her. Classic grief guilt, no more no less. My face after wiping the salty tears away on a towel is not so forgiving, I’m red raw :/
But I’m proud of it. In a funny, awful, sad, muddled way. Proud that I said to Hubs, “This hurts. This is why it hurts. I’m being visited by emotions and I’m gonna sit here with them”. As I was also wearing my Woman’s March t-shirt at the time, it was on top in the drawer, no other reason – it probably also looked a bit odd. #UnsatisfiedCommunistScumbagFeministGoblin
Erika’s lisp and gentle mouth always sounded and looked incongruous when dropping the F-Bomb. But I know she’s doing the sign of the horns with one hand, flipping us the bird with the other and cheering us on as we wobble on our paths.
It’s the best any of us can do really.