Coping

It's a sunny Wednesday and the electrician has just showed me the massive hole that has been cracked open in the top of my fridge - caused because he opened a window in the kitchen causing the door to slam and a massive pewter head of a pig to come crushing down off the wall above and into said fridge. Not necessarily his fault, I suppose, but it is the straw that broke the camels back. I told him it was fine and promptly closed myself in the sitting room and sobbed... continually... for ten minutes. I cannot cope any more. I need a house that works and where everything has it's place. The builders have been here since August, what's that, seven months now, and there is not a clear end in sight. To be fair to them, the delay has not been their fault but the structural engineers, but I'm passed caring who's fault it is. I cannot fully grieve in a building site and grief magnifies every, minute, little hiccup into a full blow catastrophe as well as having everything up-ended for months at a time. I feel untethered and displaced. My nervous system is shot to hell and I need calm and a place to call my own... without builders walking into the house at any given moment. I'm writing like I don't like them... I do. Very much. They've done a cracking job so far (although quite a lot has been broken in the process) and they do look after me very well. It's just, as with any build, it's lost momentum and I'm reaching, if not reached, my critical mass of building work. I need the job done now and I need them gone... I need to start to rebuild my own life, not just my house.

The contents of my kitchen in the spare room

I'm angry. I'm angry with Oli for starting the building work in the first place, knowing that he wouldn't be able to see it through. Did he think about how I would be able to cope with the loss of him AND a building project? Did he stop to think about what it would be like to be desperately trying to hold it together whilst trying to look like you've got things under control?? I'm losing it here. I am not sure how much longer I can keep going for. Did he think about that? And he left me. How could he do that? He promised me that we would be together forever but he's not here. How fucking dare he leave me to do this on my own? And there's something dying in my fridge that I can't identify so every time I open the fridge door the kitchen stinks ... and did I mention that it's now got a fucking great big hole in the top of it. AAAAAAGGGHHHHHHH!

Fucking great big hole in my fridge

The builders caught me crying yesterday. They came to the house when I was having 'a moment'. It's the first time since the build began that I've showed any signs of grief to them. It was not my finest hour - I generally try not to show anyone except family and very close friends my raw grief. I don't want to embarrass anyone and feel that it maybe showing too much vulnerability. I try, at all times, to convince people that I am coping.. whatever coping means.... in fact, I've just looked it up. It means 'to deal with and attempt to overcome problems or difficulties' There you have it. In reality, I am definitely NOT coping. I have neither dealt with or overcome the 'difficulty' of Oli's demise. But, between you, me and the gatepost, it is a lot easier in company to pretend that I am.. less awkward. So I pretend. I pretend that I'm coping just fine. And I reckon, around 50 percent of the time, that works.. it makes me feel less dead inside. As for the other 50 percent.. well, I still feel pretty wretched but hopefully you wouldn't notice.

Have I mentioned that there's a belief that grief hits worst after six months...? We haven't even reached five yet... holy fuck.