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Day 102 Bank Holiday Weekend

weekend

Bank Holiday Weekend. Ugh!

So, I had a ‘stay in bed and stare at the ceiling’ day. I hate those. I am feeling paralised and useless. My heart is pounding in my throat and I have nightmares during the short naps I get. I know, that getting up and doing stuff would help, make it better, but I can’t. In five minutes I tell myself. Just another cup of tea… Go downstairs to make tea, only to get dirty looks from the cat. Her food bowl is half empty. I argue with her for a while but eventually she wins. Back to bed. I can hear people chatting outside, laughing. Bugger off! Someone’s knocking on the door, but I CAN’T get up. Leave me alone! (Later I found that a friend had left a bag full of rhubarb, herbs and homemade jam by my door.) The whole day went by like this. I’m glad it’s over.

Nearly Normal Day

Yesterday was different. A nearly normal day. Early in the morning I took the hound for a run on the beach, my daughter and I went to the cinema, son came over for dinner, laughter and chatting. The cats had brought a huge mouse (or tiny rat) in the house, so armed with two brooms (and lots of screaming) I got it out. Where it died of a heart attack shortly after. (We had a similar experience recently with a bird,  I’ll tell you about it another time.)

Hopefull

Hopefully, tomorrow will be different too. But I do find weekends difficult, more so than other days. We don’t have family here, my in-laws are in Dublin and our relationship is, well, different. It never bothered us because we had each other, our perfectly weird (as my son would say), family. We would do stuff on weekends, or not, depending on weather and mood. And we’d do things together with our friends. Now I am finding it hard, to ask friends if we could come and see them. Like being an intruder. Yesterday, friend ask me if we would like to join him for sailing, across the Lough. I ask him about three times if that would be OK. Duh, he offered, so obviously it is OK.

Wishing you all a nice long weekend

Susanne

 

 

 

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About Susanne Breen

Widowed in April 2016 after her husband died from cancer. A social worker, translator and accidental writer. Mother of two with one living at home plus 3 mad pets on the shores of Carlingford Lough. Originally from Berlin but now living in Ireland a number of years. These days she's learning to adjust and cope with widowhood.