It’s Not An Ending, It’s An Evolution

07/01/24

I think I might be in some form of shock; I feel bizarrely numb and detached from reality a lot of the time.

Mind you, I think I’ll take that weird, otherworldly feeling over the tsunami of grief and terror that hits me whenever reality breaks through.

There’s a part of me (possibly linked to the long, neurodivergent lineage within my family) that gets insanely frustrated at not being able to logic leap this process.

You see, logically I know this pain won’t last forever; somehow, some way, I’ll find my path through; time will pass and I’ll eventually get to a better emotional and mental space.

I struggle to see what I gain through the pain.

Oh, alright. Fine.

I do actually believe there are lessons to be learned, and fucking silver linings to pretty much all the crap I’ve faced up to now. So I guess the same will eventually be true of this current life changing event.

How-ev-er….

Surely it should be possible to take a leap from here (the pain) to there (the not pain), without having to wade through the sewage in the middle?

To just decide to feel better, and ta-dah…

Surely the same lessons can be learned looking back, when in a space of relief and peace?

Is it actually necessary to claw my way through every painful fucking minute in order to gain the knowledge?

Lena, my actually diagnosed neurodivergent sister, has tried her very best to explain to me why the pain is part of being human, that it’s necessary, and even, ultimately, good.

I’m not convinced, and still get frustrated that I can’t just heal.

Begrudgingly accepting that I can’t just logic my way out of this, I’ve made myself a vow:

I am not going to end along with the marriage.
I’m going to evolve into the best me I can possibly be.
I will become more not less.

JP

I don’t really have a plan, which isn’t helping at all with this sense of being adrift.

I need a plan so I have something to anchor myself to.

A plan can change in the future if it’s not working, but I need something right now that helps give me structure outside of work.

I can’t bear to stay in this emotional place so I have to do something.

Lena keeps reiterating the need for “self-care, being kind and gentle to yourself“.

I have been doing some of the things she’s suggesting (you know, the bubble bath, body lotion type stuff) but to be quite frank, it’s not having the effect she would be hoping for.

The main reason I carry on doing it is so that I can honestly tell her I’m doing stuff, and then maybe she’ll stop going on about it.

That sounds harsher than I mean.

She’s already got this magnetic, beautiful, quite healthy inner self.

I’d like what she’s got, but I’m not sure I can actually have it.

She’s genuinely a beautiful person; I’m kinda not.

Doing the self-care things Lena’s suggesting – baths, lotions and potions, tasty food, ensuring my inner voice is saying kind things – all of it’s empty, it doesn’t mean anything to me right now.

I want it to; lord knows I could do with that, ‘Ahhh‘ feeling of slipping into a hot bubbly bath, knowing something delicious is cooking in the oven while I soak.

What actually happens is, I get in the bath and immediately find myself back in that last night before my husband left.

The ghost of him is sitting talking to me, like we did in the early days, like he did that last night. It was as if knowing he was leaving the following day somehow freed him up to stop being mad at me; he showed more tenderness that night than he had in years.

So I end up in the bath, sitting there bawling my eyes out, until I’ve turned into a human raisin and the water is cold.

Or I’m doing a record speed wash, slapping the sponge over my body, pulling the plug and retreating back to the bedroom within minutes.

I mean, sure Lena, I had the bath, but it didn’t feel very nurturing.

Then we get to the lotions and potions, which I’ll admit, my poor skin desperately needs after many years of neglect.

But I get sad, because who am I doing it for?

Yeah, yeah, it’s supposed to be for me.

C’mon, though, I’m never going to get the same buzz out of seeing myself naked as I did seeing the desire that used to be in his eyes when he saw me naked.

Again, I push myself to do it so I can tell Lena I did.

And a little bit because if, as he’s indicated, there’s a chance for us, I want to look better than he remembers. I don’t want to present him with a haggard old crow of a body, that confirms his decision to get the fuck out of here.

As for food…

Still constantly stress puking so even when I do force down a mouthful or two, it’s back out within minutes.

The extent of the throwing up is actually starting to scare me; I’ve not had puking issues like this since I had my non-functioning gallbladder removed.

Weight is dropping off me and I hate it.

Post-operation, food became a joy again. I was so happy to finally get a few curves as a result of a fully functioning digestive system.

At the rate I’m currently going I’m going to be under my pre-operation weight within six weeks. At that weight I was described, by my delightful mother, as looking ‘cadaverous’.

I get stressed about the weight and food thing, which is just piling on top of the husband leaving thing, and making me puke some more.

I’m trying to make every mouthful count by ensuring everything I do eat is the healthiest possible option – dried fruit and nuts, salads, soups, smoothies, stuff like that.

It’s the best I can do right now.

Future Jess will look at regaining those precious pounds, but the immediate focus has to be on gaining nutrients rather than bulk. I absolutely can’t allow myself to get sick, mentally or physically, through poor diet and lack of nutrition.

I would so love to feel connected to my love of food and cooking, but nothing stimulates my appetite, which makes the effort of preparation seem awfully pointless. Particularly for one.

Whoever said, “Me? I love cooking for one. Well worth the time and effort.”

Certainly no-one ever did it within my earshot.

Cooking for one is shit.

I’m lonely and I know I’m already exhausting the very limited number of people I can phone, particularly Lena.

Time to start searching the internet for some ideas, because I’m no closer to having that plan.

The good news is, I’m still committed to the vow (above).

JP