6 Months

Six months of the most unbelievable pain I've ever felt.

I miss him so much.

I always wonder whether I should post comments like these. For one, it seems to worry some of the people closest to me, and I sometimes wonder if it makes me look like a whinger.

But as I've said many times, I set out to document every step along the way, and I mean to do just that.

Sometimes I think I'm getting worse, not better. In the early months after Sam died, I was doing a passable job of 'keeping it all together'. Or so I thought. Perhaps I confused not crying and being strong with what it really was - supressing everything I "should" have been feeling.
I certainly cry more now. I feel more sad more often. And as I've mentioned before, there is an aspect of depression (whether you call it that or not) that has crept in: I don't feel like working, cooking, cleaning, exercising, even interacting with people all that much. And I am doing just enough to stop things from going too far.
(Don't worry readers, I am going to see my GP today).

When I write posts like this one, people talk to me or send me messages asking if I want to talk. It think it's fantastic that they do that; it shows that they care, but most of the time I don't want to talk.
There are lots of reasons why: I don't want to burden people with it; I've documented it here anyway; I'd rather talk about other things with people that are close to me. And I just don't know how much it would help. Me, that is. Thank you for the offers, but it's not what I need.

As I've said before, I get a lot out of putting everything down here. It's kind of like a clearinghouse of thoughts sometimes, and there have been times that writing it down has helped a lot. I think in the future it will also be good to come back and read through it all. I sometimes struggle with the public/private nature of it, but I actually enjoy the fact that 'strangers' read it and get something out of it, as well as people that I know.

I could have done all this with a diary, but I don't know whether I would have. I've kept many diaries in the past. Briefly. There were the numerous 'teen angst' journals, where I agonised about boys, dreamed about pouffy-haired popstars, and collected angsty poems and song lyrics. There are the million diet diaries that I've started and stopped (seriously, who writes down EVERYTHING they eat and drink, every day, for years on end??). There are the creative writing journals that I've started: "observe everything, write everything down". There are the journals I've kept (or is that 'meant to keep') about my kid's antics. And there have been countless other diaries over the years. None of them have lasted long. This is the only one that I've sustained longer than a couple of months. I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the subject matter. Maybe it's the medium. Maybe it's me and where I am...

Anyway, I can't believe I've written another one of these posts. I've got another one that's almost ready to go, will post later. Today I'm having some 'me' time: going to the doctor and having some quiet time (last time I took a day off, Oliver was home sick too). Later on, Anthony, Oliver and I are meeting some of Sam's friends and one of his teachers for Goodberrys. It will be nice to see them.

Dear Diary,

I went back to work yesterday. It was OK, but by god was I busy!
I already had a lot of respect for librarians, but now I am in AWE. How they manage to teach a full and rich program to a bunch of classes, as well as doing library stuff is (at the moment) beyond me! I'm sure once I get the hang of it, it will be better, but my goodness!

I suppose it doesn't help that I'm still feeling a bit under the weather. I really should try and get to the doctor I guess. Like I said in a previous post, last time I had a sinus infection like this, I ended up with pneumonia. It doesn't seem to be getting any better. This morning I woke at 4am (god knows why!) but couldn't get back to sleep. After a while I got up, thinking I'd go to the gym and then write in my blog. But when I got up my head was so heavy, and I was coughing a bit, so I just lay on the couch for a while. Feeling a bit better now, but I shouldn't really take any chances. Off to the doctor today methinks!

That reminds me, the other day when I saw my lovely (wonderful, awesome, fantastic) brother and sister in law, Laura asked me how I was feeling, as she'd seen my post about being sick.
This happens a lot - someone will mention something related to a blog post, and for a moment I'll think 'how the heck did they know that?'
That's also how I ended up with all the dragonflies. People read or hear about something, and then they act on it. It's almost exponential sometimes too! After my post about the dragonfly, a lovely work colleague presented my with a cute stick-on dragonfly which now sits inside my phone case. Thanks A!)
Despite the initial surprise when someone makes a comment like that, I find that I don't actually mind it. It's funny, I do tend to be quite a loud-mouth at times, and occasionally over-share, but there are some things I don't discuss with many people at all. But these thoughts (and sometimes secrets) do go on here, even though I know (mostly) who is probably going to read about it.

I wonder what it is that makes us more comfortable sharing our innermost thoughts and feelings on (digital) paper; things that we probably wouldn't readily discuss? Perhaps we're afraid of the reaction? Perhaps it gives people time to think about what we've said?

I remember years ago (when I was a teenager), my dad found my diary by accident. He didn't read much (these days, I don't really care if he did, I probably would do the same if I came across something that my kids wrote), but commented on something I'd written about my Poppa (he had died not too long before that). I was a moody teen at the time, and these thoughts were probably not something I was going to talk about with my parents, but in a way I was glad that my dad knew how I felt.

Don't get me wrong, I certainly don't advocate reading other people's diaries, and I certainly wouldn't go looking for one, but what is a blog but a more sophisticated, online version of a diary?

I think for me, maybe I do want to share, but I'm afraid that people don't want to hear about it (or at least want to choose the time and place that they do hear about it). This comes down to some of my longstanding personal issues I guess: I don't want to be boring; I don't want to be a burden; I want to be able to be the good listener...etc...

I'm not going to be solving my personality/self-esteem issues any time soon. In fact I probably never will, but it doesn't matter. I'm happy with this arrangement. I get to say how I feel, and you get to choose whether or not you listen. And please, dear reader, don't feel bad if you don't feel like reading, because I've got it out of my system now anyway!

Perhaps I should dig out some of my old diaries. Should be good for a laugh!